chapter zero | preface.

preface.

   My name, as surely you must have gathered, is Rebecca Emily Darling. I am the daughter of two college professors -- one a Russian historian, the other a practical chemist -- and I grew up in Boston where the scent of books was as heavy upon the air as the flame colored leaves were against the sky. The house I was raised in was a yellow dollhouse atop a hill, and the field across the way was home to many geese who I knew all by name.

   Is that all true? It is mostly true. If you make exceptions for my calling a Victorian farmhouse a dollhouse and exaggerating when I said that I knew all the geese by name (I knew one by name; his name was Duke; I was four and I take no responsibility for my poor choice in animal names. I once named a duck Wendy, but that is really neither here nor there.) I believe, you see, in the collision of Fiction and Reality as much as I believe in the collision of atoms throughout the Universe (I do not, however, believe in The Secret, a Savior -- unless you are talking about yourself or select works of classical literature -- or the unfortunate notion some have that Democracy is nothing but a sham.) Long ago I began using the term Personal Mythology to describe this belief, and my belief in using stories to understand yourself and your past in the same way that humanity has always used stories to explain the presence of the Earth and the Sun.

   I am not for wont of blogs, to be honest. I write and curate (although very, very rarely) the blog Rococo Vintage { fashion, fairy tales, + gin gimlets } and also post on the Rococo Vintage tumblr, but I have begun this blog at the urging of my bosom friend and soul sister T'ai Rising-Moore. I need an outlet for my words that are my words without a fear of mixing my words with my business into a brown mess like you get when you try to use oil paints without knowing what you are doing (I've done it, I would know.) I need a place where I can share my voice and practice being unafraid to do so; I so want to be unafraid to share my work.

   Also, I rather enjoy writing about myself and telling people what I think. I do. Frankly, if anyone who writes a blog tells you that they do not they would be big-fat-lying. But that being said, I'm not an over-sharer when it comes to my (current, anyway) personal life. I don't believe in that. I don't believe in bringing Instagram on your date nights, for example, and I don't believe that every moment of every day has a need to be documented. Although of course that's just me. I like to keep some things sacred. Or mysterious. Or perhaps my life is just really boring and I simply don't want anyone to know. YOU WILL NEVER EVER KNOW THE TRUTH.

   But, if you will come with me here and stay a while, you will know me. A bit, anyway. If you peruse these chapters and try in your mind to feel the spine of a book upon your palm and feel the rough edges of a hand cut page upon your fingertips, you will learn about the beasts that roam throughout the caverns in my mind and the nasty neuroses that flood my thoughts at times and the hopes I try to hope while I sit drinking my wine. (Sorry, I had to top that off with... you guessed it... a RHYME. Sorry sorry please forgive me I had to.) But really, I do so hope that you will enjoy your stay. And more than your enjoyment, I care about what you think. Rather, I care that you do think. I hope that in turn these chapters will make you feel understood or make you feel confused or make you feel something you're not quite comfortable with but that you're going to sit there still for a while and contemplate and maybe see things just slightly differently (or maybe not) when you are done.

   Mostly, I hope you read. And this is the end of The Preface.