Autumn is a 31-year-old St. Louis native! Because she was homeschooled, Autumn has sadly never been able to participate when anyone asks the inevitable question: "Where did you go to high school?" Despite this impairment, she received degrees in Music (Voice) and Art at Lindenwood University, and has been a freelance photojournalist for several years. Autumn likes to blend aspects of art decor and fashion photography with journalism, and she loves to play with every imaginable style of creativity, photographing events such as, The Kevin Kline Awards, The St. Louis RAMS, Alive Magazine, and various boutiques and venues. For the last few years, she's also decided to tackle the writing profession, armed with a lot more wisdom and enjoyment than what her years of formal education left her!
Since 2009, Autumn has written three novels, two novellas and has been concentrating on short stories about ordinary people in situations out of their element. One of her shorts was recently published in the July edition of Bareback Literary Magazine, and she'll soon have a new work in The Rusty Nail Magazine. Although some people might describe this as unhealthily unfocused, she'd much rather be labeled as unhealthily curious.
For those of you who have found yourself in the Midwest area during the Snowpocolypse of 2013, you fell into one of three categories.
The Panic-er. You are the person who listens to your mom and the weather channel when they both insist we’ll all have to blaze our way out of our homes with a flamethrower because we’re going to have 13 feet of snow by tomorrow morning, and we’d better make sure to fill up those barrels leftover from Y2K or else we’ll die of thirst.
For the past couple of weeks, I have been a secret agent. Or actually like Lara Croft and Indiana Jones, without the big chest and whip. I’ve been mingling with important people, getting into hijinks with Nazis, exploring caves to uncover sacred and lost treasures.
Our weather has been taken hostage.
I saw a man coming out of a café* at the corner of Skinker and Forest Park Pkwy wearing nothing but jogging shorts. And not even the kind of jogging shorts you could call “wearing,” because in order to wear something, there has to be a fair amount of material involved. No, I am not providing pictures.
Ah, daylight savings time, when we don’t know what our place in this world we are supposed to be. Originally developed with the idea that “early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise,” thus gave us extra daylight in the summer would make us more productive citizens. With the wonders of modern technology, we no longer have to manually set back or ahead our clocks. Now, we have smartphones that will do it for us, or at least, they’re supposed to (mine didn’t. Luckily, I checked it again and then set it back manually, then spent the rest of the night thinking it was actually going to do it again and make me two whole hours early…or late…or…whatever).
Ah, it’s the time of year when a sense of creepy looms. When hair stands up on your arms, and dread is amplified.
Of course, I’m talking about NaNoWriMo! What else did you think I was talking about?
I am not a sports person. So you should stop reading now. Because I will inevitably make you angry by the end of this post. But I am not into sports. At all. In fact, the only time I have EVER watched sports of any kind was when someone in my vicinity turned on the channel and forced me onto it, and even then, I had to find something else to do as the play-by-play, or the calls, or whatever, were shouted in excited voices soon to be echoed by everyone else in my vicinity, that I tried to ignore as I finished a chapter in my book or I check Twitter.
Although we are not the kings of horrible traffic, being a relatively large city, we have our share of bumper-to-bumper moments, and more than complaining about the weather, we enjoy complaining about the traffic.
Guten Tag, Mein Herr! This is my first post on OnStL.com, and I’ve been thinking of how to start this “column.” I know people want to read about things that are fresh and hip. Unfortunately, you’re not going to find anything like that here. You might also be checking this out, expecting something to read that will surely boost your I.Q. I will not be writing anything like that, either.