Sunday, August 24, 2008


Some days I wish I was a writer. A real writer. Someone able to transform the everyday into poetry and provide as sense of purpose, understanding and meaning. Someone witty and clever able to create new analogies evoking emotion. Writing was always my biggest fear in school. I would sit in front of a computer for hours, repeatedly, to write what it would take one of my roommates a half an hour. Then, I was lucky to get a B. I absolutely dreaded any form of written assignment. All these things considered, I am surprised at how much I enjoy sitting alone at my keyboard congealing thoughts that run through my head. The change of pace in my mind as my thoughts are transformed into words and sentences. There is a calm that settles. And although I may not have the most magical of minds, I am content. Content to be who I am and that be good enough to present to anyone who cares to tread across my pages.

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