Christa was a pleasantly eccentric child. Although mostly absorbed in her own little world — populated by queendoms, pirates, and other fancies of the high-flying kind — at a young age she discovered that her collection of eccentric goody-two-shoes not only made her brainier than the average bear, but also left her with an entirely overactive imagination. After sprouting — or more accurately, pouring — into a tall drink of water somewhat early in life, she also found herself walking an ever-present line between shyness and silliness.

During Christa's Bookworm Period it became quite a rare sight to glimpse the emergence of her nose from a lengthy classic novel, an event which typically occurred in the course of writing funny nonesuches, ruminating over a musical film, or singing comedic character parts in various showy endeavors. Immediately following this period, Christa braved the vast educational seas on a ship called university, drifting to and fro in an ocean of aspirations and insomnia for many years. She was educated in voice (chanteys), theater (stage chanteys), film and media studies (silver screen swashbuckling), nutrition and how to commandeer a healthy life-diet (better grog for a better future), and how to dress with a stylish feather in her proverbial cap (one, two, swashbuckle her pitiful overabundance of shoes).

After her undergraduate voyage drew to a close, our hero became dry-docked in occupational port for awhile. Unsatisfied by the becalmed life, however, and feeling that plastics were not the answer, Christa now currently finds herself navigating the open graduate student sea, where a teaching credential has been sighted on the horizon. She has also enjoyed the staggeringly good fortune of stumbling upon True Love whilst visiting far-flung seas; both of their valiant ships voyage alongside each other as often as possible. Someday Christa would like to travel, to create, or to do some good where no good was done before. She would also like to buy herself a queendom.

Decisions, decisions.

* "Cabbage: A familiar kitchen-garden vegetable about as large and wise as a man's head." — Ambrose Bierce