Ready for Piper to talk about herself in third person as if she isn’t the one writing this bio? Buckled in, reader?
Strapped up? Thoroughly prepped? Well good, because Photographer, Commander of the Normandy, Master folklorist and overall weirdo Piper C.J.is a binge watcher of science fiction, Mass Effect cosplayer, and personal chef… for whoever happens to be in her kitchen. When she isn’t pumping out academic papers or sitting in a windowless office wearing blazers, she’s probably 1) at an ice rink 2) road tripping 3) taking pictures 3) up to her eyeballs in the wonderful world of content creation!
(Let’s take an aside and talk over here for a moment where the rest of the bio can’t hear us. Just between us bros. WTF is “content creation”? Who calls themselves a “content creator”? Why are so many things in these sentences in “quotation marks”?
Let me put it to you this way: you know that feeling when you’re working at a restaurant as a server, putting in 9-5 with data entry, commuting to the office, or running a cash register when you’re tired, everything hurts, and you want to die?
What about the reverse of that, where you paint a picture, write a short story, upload a pixar-style animation to youtube or sculpt the lyrics to U2’s “With or Without You” from discarded soda cans, and you love the act so much that you get completely caught up in the production, lose track of the clock, while your body feels like it’s filled with warm honey and for the first time in your life you’re at peace with the universe?
Well, defining yourself as a “Content Creator” is when you quit the retail job that makes you want to hang yourself from your own dirty socks and decide that you would rather live a starving artist’s life, painting, taking pictures, cohosting podcasts, and writing whether or not you make the kind of wage that impresses people at your high school reunion.
Satisfied? Let’s get back to the bio, quick before it gets suspicious. )
I–mean she (whew! that was close)–just enjoys making things, whether it’s this silly colorful website, freelance documentaries, arts and crafts, paintings, works of truth or fiction or 40,000 word epic poems about Jeff Goldblum, the creativity and freedom of bringing an idea from imagination into reality makes me–I mean her–come to life.
Piper wrote her first full-length novel when she was 13. After a series of heartbreaking discouragements that would make you reach for the tissues, she gave up writing, shelved hobbies, and tried to be reasonable for a number of years. She was in standard after-school activities, was elected student body president, graduated Magna Cum Laude, and wore a crown as the Nordic equivalent of hometown sweetheart… for a little while. She had an acceptable four-year degree and a full-time job televising her weather predictions to Western North Dakota. She rented a typical basement apartment and owned normal amount of collared shirts, dated adequate partners, and was living exactly the life prescribed for someone of her age, sex and location.
She was doing just fine. And she was deeply and undeniably unhappy.
Piper fizzled and floundered at the act of “normaling”. She was a wrath monster, stitched together with grumpy attitudes and self-sabotaging behaviors. She quit jobs, ghosted relationships, picked fights, and I even hear she sprayed acid from her semi-aquatic amphibious gills if you looked her in the eye when the moon was full.
Somewhere between her twenty-third birthday and whatever day your calendar says it is now, she flipped Normal the middle finger and disappointed somewhere between 30-2,000 people.
She fell in love with a strapping young hockey player and joined him in his gypsy lifestyle around the world, both doing what they love. She went back to school to get her Masters in Folklore. She stretched her brain for the sheer pleasure of noggin expansion. She read dusty books and wordy articles and began to paint with whatever colors Pocahontas told Disney enthusiasts to utilize. She struck up a handful of freelance deals with various websites, writing and crafting articles with artistic freedom. She wrote healing apology letters to many and scattered metaphorical ashes for others.
She goaded Meg into creating their audio baby, Shut Yer Five Hole, and began building their terribly rewarding hockey empire (and you can now buy their merch if you want to contribute to the empire’s rapid expansion). She talked her graduate department into allowing her to finish her Masters by creating and producing a documentary on poaching in Newfoundland. She grabbed onto the coattails of friend, confidant and voice coach Amy Johnson and began narrating books, selling her broadcasting abilities on various platforms and making dolla dolla bills from her living room. She wrote the next Great American Novel (…or something like that.) And most importantly she began to drink a cocktail that tasted something like pride and a lot like joy with the perfect dash of peace (and maybe a splash of coconut rum?)
The moral of the story is probably something positive like: follow your bliss. But it may also be: Piper hated working socially acceptable jobs, made a series of stupid choices, but put up her ship’s little sail and somehow found her calling anyway.
Still reading? (…Why?)Well you’re about to run out of material here, but I guess I can provide you with some other outlets for pointing and gawking at ‘ole Whatsherface.
When Piper grows up she wants to be Sam Maggs, so any similarities you see are a very intentional “single white female” emulation… minus the murder bits.