It is completely, utterly impossible to tell you who Erin is without first giving her the introduction of a champion pro wrestler.

*A small man in a fiery leotard cracks his knuckles as he leans into the microphone and clears his throat*

“WHO IS SHE? THAT TALL GLASS OF WATER, THAT LONG LEGGED, DOE-EYED, SASHAYING, LEATHER JACKET EXTRAORDINAIRE! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IT'S ERRRRRIIIINNNNN STAAAAAAFFFFORRRDD!”

*The small man steps away from his microphone. Exhausted from the mere effort of having to describe such a unique creature in three sentences*

...But she would disagree with this intro. She might bashfully call it overkill, and then smile the clever smile that is so crucial to her being. And Erin does this all the time. There is never a slack-jawed moment to behold, just stretched lips and shiny braces. Her smile is perhaps the one constant of her actions. Everything else leans on the fantastical and the unexpected.

Erin herself has stated that she finds her own existence highly suspect. And it's easy to see why this is. If my primary interests were lying on floors, talking to myself more than I talk to others, proposing to various strangers, drinking hot sauce, and finally, cuddling with plants... then I might reconsider the nature of my reality too.

So what does this Greek myth of a person aspire to do in life? In her own words, “ I'd really like to be a writer, film director, the Ringo of someone's otherwise stellar band, a platypus, happy, an Olympic athlete, the king of the world, or at least a good story.” I don't know if she'll ever be the Ringo of someone's otherwise stellar band...or a platypus. But I've known since the first moment I saw her, that she'd make a damn good story.

I met Erin in the high school locker bay. Without hesitation, she raised both of her hands, clucked her tongue, and finger gunned me. Almost like it was a muscle memory induced action. Then we said our names, talked business and parted ways. But not before the word groovy had come up several times and I was left with a feeling of admiration. The business we spoke of was the opening of a writing club for our school. I remember she was bouncing up and down, giddy with excitement over her one true passion.

We crossed paths on a route towards writing. She enjoys it the way a person enjoys hearing their own heartbeat. It makes her feel alive... and I hope she never stops. Because when I saw her work for the first time, it felt like I was seeing the result of a deal with the devil. I was laughing almost out of my chair, my sides ached and she shot me her knowing smile. If she ends up thirty years old slumped over in an accounting job, I will be sick to my stomach. This girl possesses more creativity in her pinky finger than most people in their whole body. This girl that wishes I had asked her, "Something existential that made me doubt my purpose even more than I already do. Because I love the feeling of being as useless as a bar of soap floating in the middle of the ocean. in a completely un-ironic way." And this girl who's professional wrestler name generated as, "Chief wonder", is not, and has never, gotten away with being average.