Oops

I have so many good posts I wanted to make between midterms and now, but I really didn't have the time. But theres a LOT to recap... so I guess I'll just pick up here. =)

It is day 1 of 2010. Funky stuff. I am sitting at home, at the table, on my computer. I feel like my dad- who is usually sitting here writing away. I wish I had the creativity to write, but I prefer to journal as opposed to writing. I like to reflect on my personal experiences as in depth as possible, and its a slight difference from "writer." I like writing so that the audience may understand my reasoning for actions, or so they may relate to my experience and see it from my perspective. I feel that writers write to get any emotion or reaction from an audience- before they write the scene. I really don't care in how my audience reacts.

Moving on though- I have nothing to write. Sooo on my time off I have spent working, with friends, and on the down time learning some American Sign Language. I think its a time well spent.

Its good to be home friends =)

The Paradoxical Zen

  As I pull out my pen and paper, a hidden excitement dawns in me, something that has laid dormant for so long.  I love writing, its a little passion of mine that I have only picked up recently, but something I do hope to continue.  Then, when I have a pen and blank sheet at my ready, I freeze.  Well, damn, I have nothing to write about.

  But I don't move to put my stuff back.  I sit so still, debating with my own self.  Allowing my thoughts to eat me up whole.  I have so many personal experiences I can get out, that I can describe in vivid, beautiful details.

  I can write about what has broken me this past year, with the layoffs, lack of theater, and failing of classes.

  I can write about my travels, out to CA and back, my cancellation in Chicago, my trip to MN, my road trips.

  I can write about my future, about St. Kate's and the physical therapy program, minoring in Theology and so forth.

  As I spiral in a whirlwind of my past, present, and future of my life, I come to a simple conclusion.  What do people want to hear?  Who will even read it to begin with?  Should I give what I want, or what they want?  Do my experiences get the credit they deserve being voiced by myself, using everyones' eyes' and ears' as a writing tool?

  Probably not.  Maybe I won't do them justice.  Maybe I have never done justice by writing them to begin with.  So lets back track to square one.

  I love writing.  Let's hope I can do that justice.

  I must retract myself from my mind eventually, its only so long until someone worries.  I come back to my pen and blank sheet.  Smiling, I gently pack up my materials.

"Maybe Tomorrow."