More specifically, a lifelong bout of creativity. Featuring fruitful flights of fancy. And wit that could poke an eye out. Welcome to Hayley.
In a Headline:
Purveyor of Finely Woven Words
Creative Branding Technician
In Long Copy:
Wifey. That’s my name, though it rolls off the tongue of only one other. It was at nineteen that I converted to half a person, joining with my best friend against the concept of divorce as much as in pursuit of marriage.
It is this readapting of norms which has come to mark my forehead. Not scrapping or undermining mores, but making their essences work for me as I fashion a custom path toward my goals. Rethinking is the root of my creativitree; repurposing ideas for better or for novel is my m.o.
Adventuring a guess as to why I’m this way, I’d cite my fruit salad of a youngtime. I ripened in the breast of the inner city, the lower-, and the upper middle class suburbs. Half the time, I lived with a man. The other fifty, a femme, as I passed through crusty Catholic uniforms to sterile, state-funded schoolyards. Even my city sang of a duality: a gleaming blue-collar town punctuated as often by big tech and academia as row houses and union carpenters.
Cycling through my various worlds, I learned to get comfortable in different boxes and appreciate a rainbow of life modes. I’d like to think I’ve taken the best from each world to formulate a sense of what is practical and common practice. So I’m thankful for my salad. After all, without sensibility, what is creativity but a kooky barrage of escapades and conjecture waving in the wind. Unsavory.
Grounded in reasoned creativity, I combined a love of words, ideas, crafting, and psychology into a pursuit of advertising. And as an Ad Ma’am, I’ve given much thought to my personal brand. It’s called Wifey.
Beyond a purely marital metaphor, the persona of Wifey is one of rethinking and all Haylian idiosyncrasies. Wifey is “Why not?” Wifey is thoughtful, creative execution of an unusual plan to make it work for you. Wifey is weird, always bringing nature inside the house or asserting with earnestness and minimal arrogance that contemplation is a hobby. Wifey is savagely savvy, foregoing life insurance for a home burial plan and hosting a complete wedding for $3,000, garb and stone included.
What's more, Wifey is chronically, though not terminally, curious, priding oneself on hovering just under the limit of asking too many questions like, “Is anarchism actually crazy?” Wifey is lexophilic, using the written word as a chance to DJ language, spinning and blending meanings and syntax into melodic tapestry. Wifey is thorough, with mad respect for details and the dictates of English. Wifey is driven. No one jabs a jaunty "Hardly working?" elbow in your side. Wifey drive even pushes you to create your own position at work so you can get paid while developing a portfolio.
But more than anything, Wifey is kind, attributing a foundation of benevolence to God’s goodness as well as strong family relationships. These are the fundamental roots of Hayley.
If you have further interest in Hayley's strands of rearranged alphabet, please reach through the screen and let’s shake hands.