About

THE AUTHOR: SERENA WU

Perhaps, I am not your average hipster artist with torn skinny jeans, worn-in chucks, plastic black-rimmed glasses, and a knotty frizz reeking of pot—I never received consent from my idealistic Asian parents to attend an art school—but I do carry around a Moleskine filled to the brim with ticket stubs, snippets of emotions and thoughts, sketches of project ideas, and the crude beginnings of diary entries. (That is as hipster as I will get.) My black notebook has a T-pin stuck through the front cover, secured with a piece of masking tape—souvenirs stolen from one of the studio walls in Wurster where I spent my college life in dignified agony and every once-in-a-blue moon, blissful joy. To me, that T-pin is a memoir of a college chapter I have just finished writing, and the subsequent blank pages have yet to be filled with new adventures, insights, and blog-worthy commentary.

This blog represents my volumes of Moleskines, my T-pin, and future symbols to come—only in digital format. And me? I can also be defined objectively as labels. INFJ—the rare 1.5% (or so Myers-Briggs wants us to believe) of introversion, intuition, emotional feelings and judgment calls. Left-hander—and whatever creative, artistic implications there may be associated with holistic right-brained thought processing. Nerd—B.A. in Architecture from Cal within three years at age twenty (with all bragging rights consequently cancelled out with my utter lack of a social life in college). Geek—web and graphic designer, photographer and gadget lover, tech news junkie and blogger with a passion for social media—simply put, a Silicon Valley native born and raised in suburbia (or a sheltered cardboard box) with no adaptive defense mechanisms for survival anywhere outside of the Bay Area.

So help me. Share with me your perspectives, your commentary, your insights gained as I illustrate for you my world and occasional ventures outside of the Valley. I am pretty much stalker-friendly via FriendFeed, Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn—or let’s just Gchat at 4am in the morning. I’m nocturnal.

I also seem to abuse the m-dash like a caesura breaks a ballad—with poetic license.