I just noticed that my old intro to myself was as boring as sitting through a church sermon when you are seven years old. Can we say “BOR-ING”? So I am here to remedy that situation. I know on some blogs the intros are written in third person, like they have someone working for them. Let’s be real, I have no one working for me. It’s just me. Victoria.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have grown up in Austin, Texas where I was born, but only spent little over a year there until my father received his PhD in English at the University of Texas (Hook ’em horns!). My dad accepted a position at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill (Go Tarheels! Or whatever the saying is.) My parents packed up my two older sisters and me and moved to North Carolina where my younger sister was born. We lived there for about two years, just long enough for me to never have a memory of the place, when my father was offered a position that could lead to tenure, in Americus, Georgia. Of course, that’s when I have my first memory. It was of us pulling into the driveway and stepping inside our brick ranch that was surrounded by pine trees and also one large oak in the back yard. I remember the back door with glass slats for the window, that if you turn a crank would open and let the nice spring breeze flow through the screen into our family room. (I also recall tripping on the brick step one afternoon when I was in high school and falling into said window and breaking the glass.) I remember the hardwood floors and how the rooms echoed when we spoke. I remember the pinewood paneling on every wall in the family room and kitchen. We had arrived and would not leave until after I had graduated college from Valdosta State with a degree in Fine Arts (I know -pretty much worthless to most people.) About two weeks before I turned five, it was arranged one day, that I would go spend the night with my best kindergarten friend. When I got home, our new baby brother had arrived and was there for us to ooh and ahh over. So there were five us growing up in a three bedroom, two bathroom house. There were lots of creative moments through the years; making art, writing stories, playing instruments (not really by me), and all of this encouraged by our parents. It was a creative nurturing environment.
I love painting, writing, reading, watching movies, and one day I will be a more disciplined blog writer.