I am Ashleigh K. Rajala. The “Rajala” is Finnish. The “K” stands for “Kay.”
I divide my time between a variety of poverty-inducing ventures: writing for fun and writing for torture; watching far too many movies and reading far too few books.
I have lived previous incarnations as bookseller, bureaucrat, filmmaker, zinester, student, and wayward traveller. I studied Film at Langara after seven years at Simon Fraser entrenched in English, Archaeology and about every other Liberal Arts and social science topic you can imagine.
I am very good at Trivial Pursuit.
I am related to Dr. Samuel Johnson, writer of the first English dictionary, which explains my perfect spelling and penchant for black cats.
I once lived in a house in the South Hill neighbourhood of Vancouver with six people, four cats, one goldfish, and a vegetable garden for a front yard. We called it The Commune. It was where I lived with my husband before he was Husband, before he was Fiance, before he was Boyfriend, back when he was just Boy Roommate. Life was a sitcom and we were the “will they/won’t they.”
Once we ran away to England because we like having adventures. But we didn’t like it that much, so we came home again.
I have the personality of a superhero’s alter-ego. Only I don’t fight crime. At least not yet.
I am awesome. I understand a reluctance to trust that statement. I am about as reliable as a prophylactic that’s been in your wallet since high school.
But at least trust these fine folks and their glowing reviews:
“[Ashleigh is] everything John Lennon always wanted to be.” (Joe Verde)
“I’ve lived with [Ashleigh] for over two years, and I’m not entirely convinced [she is] an idiot.” (Dr. Roommate)
“If nothing else, I think you’re special.” (Mum)