When asked to introduce myself I'm never quite sure what I ought to say, so I generally stick to the basics, which I'll do in this case. I'd like to be clever, but I just woke up from a nap and am still dreadfully tired, so I'll have to be conventional. :)

My name is Clare; I'm a cradle Catholic of Irish, Scottish, English, Dutch, and Danish descent; and I'm a little over a month shy of nineteen years old. I have six brothers, all of whom I am very fond. I was homeschooled throughout, and graduated from high school last spring. This coming fall I'll follow in the footsteps of my oldest brother and begin attending Thomas Aquinas College in Santa Paula, CA.

I never got over my childhood interest in everything, and wish I had the time to study everything that intrigues me. One of my greatest passions is music: I've taken violin lessons for about five years, I've taught myself the classical guitar, I can play a little piano, and know the basic theory of the organ though I wasn't able to keep up lessons. Language is another chief interest of mine, and I'm actively learning Latin, German, and Spanish, and actively searching for a good French course. I'm fond of singing, dancing, reading, writing, sewing, debating, and tea. My latest hobby is snowboarding, which I am decidedly not in the least good at, but I work at it... as long as I'm going down and on my feet all is well.

G.K. Chesterton has always been present in my life, more or less. Long before I was familiar with his writing I was familiar with his name. My father collects Chesterton first-editions and whatnot, and as a child I often admired the autographed picture of the man on the wall, which was hung just next to a framed original of one of his poems. In a bookshelf close by were several beautiful and very old books, sometimes bearing that same signature, and there were also little odds-and-ends tucked away here and there: for instance, a little menu in French, with that very same signature; and a note from a Mrs. Frances Chesterton, thanking the recipient for the condolences on her husband's death.

And so there was Chesterton, from the very beginning. Eventually I did get familiar with some his work, when my father read several of the Father Brown stories aloud. And shortly before I entered my teenage years I read the collection for myself. I was, as they say, hooked, and I read Heretics immediately following, which is still one of my favourite of his works.

So here's a classic and rather sappy statement, but I mean it very genuinely: Chesterton changed my life. He not only taught me about truth, but he taught me about joy and beauty and wonder. He caught me just as I was leaving childhood and convinced me that I didn't need to leave fairyland. He taught me that the Faith was true, and I've never doubted it since. He taught me that the Faith was joy, and I've safely avoided those that would say that wine, laughter, and merriness are un-Catholic things. He taught me that the Faith was glorious and courageous, and I've found that I have a new strength and resolve to carry on to the end. He taught me too the extraordinary wonder of being alive, and this wonder has helped me through all my dark hours.

I read his works, imitate his great example of Catholicism, live both life and the Faith to the fullest, and look forward to the day when I can at least meet my great hero in eternity.