novelistic nomad

I have never been the best when it came to talking about myself, so bear with me as I attempt to dazzle strangers on the Internet with an amazing insomnia-induced introduction that will (possibly) knock your socks off.

Hi, my name is Taylor. Yes, Taylor, like Taylor Swift. But I wasn’t named after Taylor Swift— she wasn’t famous yet when I was born. I was actually named after a different musician named Taylor. Can you guess who?

If you guessed Taylor Dayne, you are indeed correct.

When I was younger, I use to really dislike my name. It always felt plain to me. I use to think that if my name was a condiment in the fridge, it would be mayonnaise (apologies to mayo lovers) because it was so boring. However, now that I am a 30-year old lady, I feel like I have grown into my name and have learned to appreciate it. My mom is probably grateful that I no longer give her grief for not giving me a more feminine name like Jessica or Amanda.

I feel like I have always had misguided passions like that.

For example, my favorite class in school was always Science. From reading about the solar system to binging Animal Planet, I loved learning about the different types of Science. Being a scientist was my second dream in life. My first dream was to be a taxi driver in New York City with a mustard-yellow cab, specifically so that a rider would abruptly hop in my car and yell for me to follow the car in front of me. I knew that was a long shot, so being a scientist was my more practical backup plan.

However, my grades begged to differ. I did fairly well in History, and my Math was mediocre at best; however, Science was my kryptonite. I could never understand why I kept flunking my favorite subject until I realized that it wasn’t my favorite subject. While I appreciated Science, I couldn’t deny that at the end of the day learning about how a stone was smoothed and buffed by erosion had nothing on a good Nancy Drew book.

I wouldn’t say that I had the same thirst for Literature as Matilda or Belle, but I can attest that one of my core memories was when I was finally old enough to get my own library card (which I still have to this very day, thank you very much). I was so giddy that I made sure to sign my name on the back of it and immediately put it to good use. I think my mother immediately regretted that decision when she saw my stack of books and realized something: I, and by extension she, would be responsible for the books until they were successfully returned. Don’t worry — I took care of the books as if they were the finest treasures.

Naturally, this led to my backup-to-my-backup dream: To be an author. I started off with writing a short story about a grandmother witch whose grandchildren accidentally lost her cauldron the night before the Halloween party. Then, I found myself eager to write any and all essays that were assigned to me in my classes. No matter the medium or topic, I loved to write.

While I did not find myself in a cab or on the moon, I did dabble in writing here and there. It was usually for fun, though I did complete some freelance work here and there. In recent years, I would say that most of my writing has just been in my personal journals… Until now.

Writing may never become my full-time job — heck, the job I have now keeps me busy enough as it is — but I have decided to branch out and put myself out there, starting with this blog. My posts will be a mix of everything from inner thoughts, dreams, reviews, and travel… And anything else I can think of. I may not fit into a specific category or niche like the Internet suggests, but then again it is hard to limit myself to one thing when I want to write about all the things.

If you made it this far — thank you! I look forward to earning more of your time.