Okay, so maybe my grandmother was the only one who ever called me Lexi.  And maybe she didn’t ever call me that.  When my mom told her I was changing my name she said it.

It sounds like a good name to use for my writing.  It isn’t my full name so it gives me the illusion of being somewhat more difficult to track and maybe a little bit safer.

Who am I kidding?  It’s 2014.  I’m writing a blog.  Online.  I have a Facebook account and am on G+.  My days of protecting my privacy ended long before I admitted it.

It’s okay.  I’m doing what I love.  I’m stepping outside of my comfort zone.  Look at me, growing as a person, or something …