Hands Up

I'm a perfectionist. As a result, much goes unwritten. Not just essays and movies and thank yous and status updates, but the tiny appreciative epistles I string together in my mind as I roll down the street for a coffee or a sparring session, the observations that flit through my head between sentences, the pretty/ugly ups and downs that I file in the "write later" folder in my brain. That lost folder. I think I threw my invisibility cloak over it by accident, and now...

Welcome to Badass Betty and the Industrial Inferiority Complex.

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