Valerie Willman. Indo-phile. Artistic. Conundrum.
Spontaneous. Mama of two. A lame-o cook and an even more questionable housekeeper. News Flash: I spend too much money on books and organic groceries.
If I could be a fictional character it would be a cross between Elizabeth Bennet and Maude. Miss Bennet, because she’s equal parts fire-y and loveable whipper-snapper. Also, she gets to kiss Colin Firth. And Maude, because she lived from the inside out and collected art and was sooooooo alive. Every. Day.
Speaking of hypothetical parentage (because we were, weren’t we?) – Stanley Tucci could be my dad. ‘Cuz he’s impish and hip and intense. And has eyes that could melt PVC plastic. With one gaze. I don’t know who I’d want to be my mom. Probably nobody could understand me better than my real mom. But Bette Midler could come close.
Wow! If Bette and Stanley had a kid together, and let’s pretend it was me, and that girl wrote her own bio page for her website, it would be twirly and swirly, green and loud. It would be a manifesto, and it would make you want to creep closer. But not creep out. It would pop and crackle and taste like rava kesari. Because I am a beautiful vessel of creative juicy-ness.
Silence. Even though my writing can be loud, I write in silence. I need to access the world where my words mean something. And then I write them down. If I’m stuck, chocolate helps. Also, episodes of Laverne and Shirley. And dancing in my kitchen to Spotify.
Deadlines are sacred. If I say I’ll do something for you, it’ll get done. Even if I have to fall asleep on the couch to do it.
My grand, audacious goal is to have grand, audacious goals. When I want to honor my authentic self, I listen to “If You Wanna Sing Out, Sing Out” by Cat Stevens. It really lets me get my freak on.
My greatest wish is for all of us to see the Divine One in each person we meet. I also want people to give me more compliments.
I’m really great at editing, writing – and reading when I’m supposed to be editing or writing. I give a mean massage, too. I have good hands. But I still talk on the phone in the car – even though it’s illegal now – and sometimes I don’t eat, because I forget.
“Let Go” by Frou Frou lets me fall apart, and “The Cave” by Mumford and Sons lets me get back up again.
“Breathe” by Anna Nalick is an emergency song only to be used as a last resort when I’m feeling my most afraid.
So now that you’ve made it all the way to the end of my About Page, I want you to email me and tell me how much I inspire you, how you wish we were best friends (in a totally non-stalkerish way), and share this page on your Facebook timeline. And hire me. Seriously.
