Living Outloud

I'm a loud person.

In conversations, I often raise my voice inappropriately (and the people who love me make gentle note of my increasing volume, helpfully). On the page, I like to inappropriately capitalize random words, letters and SCREAM IN ALL CAPS sometimes, just for the hell of it. My High School Creative Writing teacher wrote me many notes about this, regarding my poetry. What can I say? I just like to be loud. And capital letters? Are loud.

Online, and in person, I'm what is known as an "oversharer" although I have really toned myself down in the past few years. This is just part of my loud personality.

My mom likes to share the story of how I would talk and talk until I was hoarse as a little girl. (And she nicknamed me "quacky doodle" as a result.) This doesn't shame me, it makes me proud. And happy.

I like being loud.

I think one part of having dreadlocks, to me, is that as a white person, they're very loud. They SCREAM for me. (They scream: I'm not afraid of being different! And oh my goodness, how very fucking true that is...)


Yes, I've had social pressure to tone it down. And I like to think I can modulate my inner loudness to socially appropriate levels (with a little help from my friends). But mostly? I live my life outloud. And I am proud.