Hey there, Friend, how’s it going?
My name’s Arianne, and sometimes I go by Aria, like the character from Pretty Little Liars (as the girls I meet tell me), or like the “badass chick from the Game of Thrones” (as the boys I meet tell me), or like the musical term (as the awesome people tell me), or like the Vegas casino ( as the super awesome people tell me). Despite the kind of person you are, whether you fit into the four aforementioned people types or not, then you may refer to me however you like since we probably will never talk to each other in person–but please, let’s keep it all PG, for the sake of the children.
Now that I spent an entire paragraph on my name, I’m also an aspiring Francophile, albeit annoyingly so. Twenty years young, decent-looking, and currently mixing up a Screwdriver. Possible compulsive liar, wannabe adventurer, and occasional Gulliver.
I reside 3/4 of the year in the lively city of Austin, Texas where I party almost never, eat almost frequently, should be studying the rest of the time, and do computer dawdling shit like this all the time. The other quarter of the year I spend in the even livelier suburb of Dallas where I do pretty much the same stuff.
The Cursive Journal really has no intended purpose except to be there when I need it. Little caveat to all you who are interested in the messed-up mind of this individual: it’s going to be ugly. But in a beautiful way, let’s hope. That’s what I hoped to accomplish by having “cursive” precede “journal.” It’s beauty–actually quite a sham that makes you think it’s all deep and flowery and philosophical exactly like a cursive font is supposed to evoke, but it’s really masking all the wondrous ugly underneath.
So, with that, welcome.