My name is Lindsey. I’m one of those annoying introverted compulsive oversharer types (AKA a writer), and this is my blog. It’s been going strong since 2003.
Some trivia to get you started, if you’re new around here.
I grew up on a farm in rural West Tennessee and I still have a thick streak of country in me. That streak most often surfaces in my desire to be barefoot at all times and the way I pronounce Long Is. Long aaaaaaahs. I have a considerable pottymouth but I like to think I wield it creatively. My mother does not approve and sometimes leaves comments chastising me for it on the internet. I’m a little too fond of sparkling wine. I ramble when I talk and I write long emails. Sometimes I get lucky and have lucid dreams. I snore. I lived in Memphis for nearly eight years right out of college and I miss it a lot. I bite my nails sometimes but sometimes I don’t. I always go for the pun. Taking pictures makes me happy and my motto is shoot sober, edit drunk. I love to travel, and would do it almost nonstop if I had the means and the time. I am addicted to newspapering, although I hate the late-night hours. I am nearly positive that I won the baby lottery with my kiddo. If you ever meet him, you will know what I mean by that.
I pay the bills by leading a team of 16 or so folks who design five newspapers in the Gulf Coast region. It’s a super challenging, crazy, go-go-go-all-the-time job, but it can be pretty fun.
On the side, I have a design/photography operation called Eyedot Creative. I sell prints and stationery and such on Etsy. I do freelance work, so if you are in need of someone to photograph babies, engagements, events, gardens, pets, etc., or in need of someone to whip up some designs for your business cards or websites or flyers or invitations or whatnot, shoot me a note at firstname.lastname@example.org.
About the blog name
One of the funniest books I’ve ever read is A Confederacy of Dunces. I ripped “theology and geometry” from this passage:
A green hunting cap squeezed the top of the fleshy balloon of a head. The green earflaps, full of large ears and uncut hair and the fine bristles that grew in the ears themselves, stuck out on either side like turn signals indicating two directions at once. Full, pursed lips protruded beneath the bushy black moustache and, at their corners, sank into little folds filled with disapproval and potato chip crumbs. In the shadow under the green visor of the cap Ignatius J. Reilly’s supercilious blue and yellow eyes looked down upon the other people waiting under the clock at the D.H. Holmes department store, studying the crowd of people for signs of bad taste in dress. Several of the outfits, Ignatius noticed, were new enough and expensive enough to be properly considered offenses against taste and decency. Possession of anything new or expensive only reflected a person’s lack of theology and geometry; it could even cast doubts upon one’s soul.
That paragraph just happens to be the first paragraph of the book, which appealed to my laziness and seemed serendipitous at the same time.
Obligatory I-would-like-to-stay-employed disclaimer
Everything uttered on this blog is my opinion and most likely completely ridiculous, and should not be taken as representative of the views of the company I work for.
To keep a record of my life and to get the occasional laugh.