Once upon a time there was a man named William Hamilton Gibson.
…no, that’s not me. I know this is an “about me” page, but hear me out.
William was an American illustrator, author, and naturalist from the 1800s who had a sensitive soul. He loved to write about and draw pictures of nature, even from a young age. From what I can tell, though he had a number of illustrations published and wrote several books, he probably would have disappeared from the layman’s consciousness if not for this famous quote:
It’s from a chapter on spring in his book Pastoral Days. He was busy examining the delicacies of nature (“Often on this sunny slope, so sheltered by dense pines and hemlocks, have these charming clusters [of arbutus], pink and white, burst into bloom…”) when suddenly it began to rain (“I recall the ‘tat,’ ‘tat’ upon the dry carpet of beech leaves, as the delicate anemone in my hand is dashed by a falling drop!”).
He goes on to describe in flowery detail (appropriate, no?) how he and his companion had to stop their nature observation to hide from the brief rainstorm, which ended with brilliant sunshine. It is in that moment that he exults in the fickleness of an April day. You can read more about it in this Google book, on pages 33 (third line from the bottom) through 36.
William and I have very little in common. We both have a fondness for art and writing, but our similarities stop there.
However, the weather he wrote about—typical of the month of April—describes me rather well.
Hi, my name is April Mack, and I am just like my namesake.
I am spring after a long winter, full of hope and joy for the future. I am sunshine, birds singing, and warm breeze—except when I’m not, usually unexpectedly. I am big dreams and loud laughter, except when my heart gets too full and tears of bubble over from joy, compassion, or pain. I love what I love with a passion. But if my heart’s not in it, I am fickle.
I hope you agree with old William that your time spent here is as lovely as the fickleness of an April day!
A few extra facts:
- I was born in 1985, fifteen days past my due date. My poor mother.
- As my birth indicates, I’ve been a perfectionist procrastinator from the start and have been battling it my entire life.
- I am the third out of four generations in my family who have lived in Tokyo, Japan, even though we are all Caucasian Americans—my grandparents, my parents, my husband and I, and then my kids (who were born there but are US citizens). I’ve lived a total of 22 years in Japan so far. I’m currently living in Texas, USA, for the first time.
- I speak English and Japanese. I used to also be fluent in SEE (sign language), but I’ve gotten a bit rusty.
- My eyes used to be blue; during puberty my eyes turned green. My hair also changed color, from white-blond to sandy brown, though more gradually. I was in college the first time I heard, “Good, there are no blonds in the room. I can tell a blond joke,” instead of the usual glance and “no offense.” However, my eyebrows and lashes have always been dark.
- My original career choice was to be a fire truck (yes, the truck). I considered “princess,” “professional singer,” and “artist” before settling on “writer” during high school.
- I’m a huge fan of shelter blogs and interior design. It’s like playing with a life-size dollhouse.
- One of my bad habits: Cracking my joints.
- I can’t stand coffee. I prefer Japanese teas (ryokucha and hōjicha are my favorites).
- I suffer from chronic random forgetfulness.
- There is not enough willpower in the world to keep me from eating chocolate. Treats are never safe in my presence.