Now You Know

Hey...

You know I've been thinking. This blog is about honesty, that's the goal, entirely.

Many times I try and think til I come up with silly topics just to write about it.
I always try to make sure it is relate able and important, but I feel at times that
repetition is kind of a thing that I have managed to do.

That's the process..the way a person who writes works, balancing an idea, deciding whether to say it or not. Its all personal. Its you and the computer, its you and the blank piece of paper, its the darn pen that just wont budge from where you are holding it.

Writing is a cosmic essence that descends when pressure of a deadline is marked. I've mentioned writers block in a blog just last year, and it was just my crazy stuck part of getting through it. Its so darn tough.

Its so mental. Honestly, I understand if you are just puzzled about how many times I mention "writing" or being a writer, doing the thing I said I am doing, writing.

It just enveloped my being since I was in 7th grade I guess. At that time, I wanted to write a book. Attending my close-knit middle school, I wondered what am I to do. I detest math, science is important, but not important enough for me to be blown away. I had a journal. I forget now, a book brought me to think. Think about scenarios, concepts, and people.

I declared to myself, and I believe my best friend at the time, that I am writing a story. I titled it Lake of Emotions. I came up with a character, a girl of course (girl power was so in), and a situation. Centered around emotions, my teenage mind was full of whirlpools dealing with self-acceptance and questions of purpose. I'd wanted a character that was just like me.

It was a goal. Then, it evolved, I wanted to write about her as a super hero, at the time Kim Possible was making the impossible happen all the while she was going to school. That was epic.

Everyday, I wrote, as much as I could, especially on a good day. By the end of middle school, I felt that in this short time, that I was leaving something behind. It was time to evolve, get into high school, possibly change. Where would my writing spirit fit?

So to make my evolution less of a downer, in highschool Literature, particularly British Literature,  opened the flood gates to my imagination and changed my reality. I breathed, and the dawn of my previous ambition was walking back to me.

Now, I've talked to many people, done some crazy things that have made me laugh, experienced happenings that have shattered me into a million pieces, and have ignited the fireworks to live this life. To move...move forward.

Ever since I returned to this place, my inner dreamer, has considered many possibilities on where this will lead. Not really sure. I try and plan, but amazingly its never what I expect, and I appreciate that.
Like this blog post for instance. Completely unplanned. Just thought of right now.

I love and honor that. Not really sure if what I've just regaled will impact, make waves. But I sure hope that in one way or another it helps assure you that writing is not a crock-pot of arrogance.

Its about unveiling a curtain that will never take form as you see it, but rather surprise you.

Simply that.




Love and Respect to You always Dear Reader,

CC