Elizabeth Heiselt: I was told when I married my husband, “What Micah wants, Micah gets.” I have two responses to that: first, it seems to be true and I am a lucky woman to have my wants be his wants; second, sometimes getting what you want isn’t necessarily what you think it will be. But that is okay; it is usually better. I have a BA in American Studies from BYU, an MA in Journalism from NYU, and a gold star in motherhood from my two-year-old son. Aside from having had pretty much all my wishes granted, I make my own bread, run a 4-hour marathon, and bake an ambrosial apple pie.

Mari Murdock: I’m a recently self-indulged optimist.  Spending the measly sense high school afforded me on pessimism made me realize I wasn’t getting my money’s worth. I invested in the color yellow, let the sun grow alliums, and learned how to bake baklava.  Now I’m enjoying what snatches of Carpe Diem the island of Oahu has to offer while remembering what God is like.  I love dressing up for every excuse for a costume, teaching people how to write essays, letting my hair do whatever it wants, and spending time with my extraordinary friends.  I also enjoy the company of Pikachu, Kerrigan Queen of Blades, and Rand al’Thor on occasion.  Yeah, I’m still in my larval stage, but at least I’m somewhere.  Thank goodness for life.

Stephanie Robertson is an aspiring writer and fine arts admirer who loves to participate in all things creative (whether from the sidelines or in the mix).  She loves her husband (who she gets to live and dream with), her two year old son (who she feeds, waters, and plays with on a regular basis), and her soon-to-be second son who is taking up residence in her womb and seems pretty content in there.  She is based in the lush, green country seaside terrain of Oahu, Hawaii and doesn’t plan on changing that anytime soon.  You can find her on the beach, in a mess of a kitchen, or hunched over a computer trying to sculpt her inner most thoughts for your consideration.

Avery Fellow: On my list of jobs is carpenter, fishmonger, art gallery attendant, shrinkwrapper, reporter, barista and government worker. My favorite job-related praise was for my flip-flop organizing skills at J. Crew. I am happiest when I’m sweating in bikram yoga class, running on a dirt trail, or making something up in the kitchen. I have a weakness for fortune cookies and magazines. And I like pulling the covers over my head when I sleep.

Shem Greenwood: I am a 27 year old male earthling, as far as I can tell.  I love to climb trees, but am afraid to sleep in them.  The ocean, Radiohead songs, and indoor plumbing nurture my believe in God.  I am perplexed by picky eaters. I find it romantic when beetles make love.  I sometimes believe I’m in a Jimmy Stewart movie.   I am polite to ghosts but impolite to Ronald MacDonald. If you’re homeless I’ll give you a dollar, or a custard tart if I’ve got it, and I hope you’ll do the same for me.

Jenna Chidester is a dirty vagrant who spends too much money on novelty instruments and too much time on wikipedia to really be healthy.  When she grows up she wants to sing Queen of the Night and have a house with at least one hexagonal room.  She hates peanut butter, sleeping, the Dutch language, tall people, and living in cold weather.  She likes swimming in deep water, gingers, cursive, little books that fit in your pocket, and passionate arguing.  You can find her laughing too loud when it really is inappropriate or sleeping in various jeeps scattered throughout Laie.

Bremen McKinney likes to use the old joke about loving to talk about himself in third person whenever he gets the chance to talk about himself in third person.  He loves meeting interesting people, and takes special care to find the crazies.  He’d like you to believe that you’d find him fighting for all that is just and good, even in the darkest and most difficult situations.  But he’s an anthropologist, he looks for the grease and the grime, and prefers to watch it all go down rather than get too involved.  There’s a pile of unread books and crumpled sheets of dirty paper with songs, lists, and whatever else he could think of scribbled on them strewn about his room.  Even though he recently told someone that he doesn’t define himself by his occupation, he has come to the suspicion that he does.  A majority of his inspiration comes from the people that he has met selling things on the doors, throwing boxes at the shipping docks, playing accordion on the street, and picking papaya.  Aloha, pleased to meet you.