I write to find peace.
I'm still working on it.

I'm writing in an effort to leave track of what little I've figured out in 34 years.
It's strange but in my 20's I think I had more of the answers.

I seem to have misplaced them since then.

At that age I felt that I had lived 3 peoples lifetimes and had somehow been able to heal myself by myself through the deepest of introspection and so much self denial and sacrifice. I was able to view situations with wisdom. But wisdom grew ashamed to be with me.

I got lazy. I was young and although I had matured I still needed a little guidance. I looked to the world for inspiration and direction but is was busy.

What happened to me then was a series of events that tore my convictions from me at the firmest level and sent me into years of incomplete existence.

I've been at odds with my environment since before I was aware of it. It's taken it's toll.

But I'm nothing if not stubborn and so I insist on gathering all of my broken pieces and glueing back a solid human being with courage, understanding, patience and love oozing from every crack.

Writing is a passion of mine that I can afford to get lost in. It's every bit of the release the stereotype portrays it to be. I only wish I'd started sooner. Then I might have more relief.

My passion is ...

writing accurate and thorough accounts of the many things in my mind.

I know too much about ...

my mother.

My parents always told me ...

I told you so.

My childhood ambition ...

was to be an actress that travelled the world.

My favorite memory ...

is traveling alone in my car to any of many destinations.

Why I write ...

to live a better life.

What I am reading/watching/listening to ...

my childrens voices

My first job ...

at a soda fountain in Marble Falls Tx. I was around 9 yrs old

My best moment ...

Working on my first scene in my first film and seeing the reaction in the director and DP's eyes.

My inspiration ...

art in all its forms - painting, music, acting, when it shows human courage, faith, love, forgivness, and endurance

Creative Writing > Reflections Reflections: Change

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she was naked and dripping words on a page that was tattered by disinterest and misinterpretation.

after the accolades and ogling were past she sat nude and cold on a hard black and white surface. her conscience.

so littered with things unsaid and unexplained it needed a voice but her view was caught on another sight a few pages down the book.

what was, what is, what are your philosophies the pretty clean voices whispered on fragrant winds of suggestion and invitation?

too many to think of to much to put into word or on paper so she just believed they were there and worth noting...

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