Jumping back on, just for the ride....

Okay, so writing...it's in my blood, much like painting, I find myself pondering relatively small details, sometimes random artifacts that are barely visible to the naked eye. Yes, I find myself, thinking, "Man, that's somehting to write about."

So this is what I plan to do, maybe I will refer to my life as an open book, but my intent to write most likely refers to the almighty metaphor that has always been a close acquaintance throughout my life.

Now, I've mentioned it a few times, as of lately, and maybe it's ridiculous, but for some reason, my mind has shuffled through memory after memory, and without too much difficulty- this is what I recall....

I remember learning about a "melting pot" in Social Studies or American History class in Jr. High School. I specifically remember looking around my class and thinking that rural Ohio was not a melting pot! So...years later, here I am. I'm in NY. The most amazing and diverse melting pot on the planet...and seriously, a smile appears on my lips, and tears (yes, I swear this is true) form in my eyes, just to express that I really chose to be here in this place, as different as it is from Columbus, Ohio, I know that there is something extraordinary about feeling uncomfortable, about knowing that I can stand in the middle of a crowd and be absolutely okay not needing to know everyone.That has taken time to believe. I have peace within, mixed with enough fear, that it keeps me taking me one step closer to the destination of my choice.

There's something so beautiful about not having all my ducks in a straight row, the perfect sort of row that I always tried to encapsulate by living as though I had a map telling me where I could find the treasure of all treasures (So, I watched National Treasure the other day). I think, I think I know, but more often than not, I find that I am a stranger to my own glorious brainstorm and that I have to back up and reconfigure everything. It's not pretty, by any measure, more often than not, I can allow myself to feel like a failure. But there's nothing like failure to kick me into gear and try harder, to be even more passionate and eager to reach the goal, to accomplish the dream that has risen in my heart, that has found its very breath in my writing and art. It's never easy to express, it pours out, but unlike my art, I've never taken my writing as seriouslyas my art, which never has made much sense to me.

So, I know that I am the last one to say this and that, but for this instance, it is an absolute miracle that some people weave themselved in and out of our lives like an elegant rose amongst casual daisies.

Typically, I'm just that diamond in the rough, sort of barely recognizable to anyone else, but the very person who will make me realize that I'm worth the highest value, regardless of shape, cut, color, or circumstance. I am not 1 of 10, 1 of 100, 1 0f 1000, 1 of 10000 or 1 of 100000. Simply, I am 1 of 1.

See me as I am, not as a white female from rural ohio, but as someone who came to NYC with a pocket full of dreams, just like any other human, I am part of this melting pot that makes us so strong, I guess that's why I can't just stop writing. Out of the blue, I know that I will always have something to say and I will just have to focus more on making art, but nothing is really stopping me from writing....