A quest to make sense of it all. Or a sense to make a quest of it all.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Lady. Ladylike. Ladymusings.

Back in 2004, I took on "Saint" as a last name. Somewhat prematurely, as the wedding was not until 2005...but seriously, if your name would soon be as cool as "Sarah Saint", wouldn't you want to put a rush on it, too? I did. This necessitated a new email address. I had long been ashamed of my old one, ophelia_dear@hotmail. I chose it when I was 13 and I had sort of a thing for Hamlet. (Ok, I still do, but I no longer have Waterhouse prints shouting that love from my walls.) I was terribly dramatic at that age. I made sure everyone knew I was reading Victor Hugo (the unabridged Les Miz). I may or may not have had a cat named Danae. Basically, I was begging for a beatdown I never receieved.

I digress.

There wasn't enough thought put into the new email address. Brandon had started referring to me as "Lady Saint", so I just tacked that together to form ladysarahsaint@hotmail. *sigh* I regretted it almost immediately. One, it sounds like I hang out at the Renaissance Faire. A lot. (And I probably would, if I had that option more than once a year, but to sound like you hang out there a lot and you really don't, is so very much worse than actually hanging out there.) Secondly, there's this: Nocturnal Admissions.

Which is a now-defunct blog (c'mon, Lindsey!).
And I know nobody goes there anymore. But that picture pops up if anyone runs a Google search on me, with the caption "Lady Sarah Saint", and I look like a *$%#*@# dominatrix.

I'm not.

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