I grew up in the southern California 90's, which, if the internet is to be believed, was a pretty great time to be a kid (it was). I'm from a relatively small town on the edge of Los Angeles County. Far enough to avoid the real glitz and glamour of Hollywood, but close enough for it's ethos to splash over the rim of the San Fernando Valley and onto my little town. Lets just say there were lots of day spas and small, vicious dogs in strollers. We lived in the house my mother grew up in and as I got older things got fancier and more affluent until it was hard to recognize as the same place I learned to ride a bike.

Needless to say, I was aware that my town wasn't a very accurate picture of life as many people know it. I was left wanting to explore and experience life outside "the bubble". I was very lucky to have traveled a bit, and gotten a taste of that reality. I got to spend a few months living in Australia on Mickey Mouse's dime, visited family in Malta, and saw elephants in Tanzania.

After a lot of screwing around in community college I ended up at Humboldt State University, where I fell into journalism. News editorial to be specific. I reported for the school newspaper and learned to string an adjective and a noun together. I also did some broadcast and photography — talk radio, variety music shows, and a little photojournalism. Out of all of that came a love of finding and telling stories, which is what I'm hoping to pursue going forward. I have no fancy gear, so I would hesitate to call myself a photographer. But my phone has a camera (or my camera has a phone) and I have a voice recorder. I always carry a pen and a notebook with me. What more does storytelling really require?