I want to begin my first blog entry here by saying that I am experiencing a profound sadness with my lack of growth, and my slight "creative block." The last time I saw my little brother, he said something akin to, "I remember you used to write." Such a simple sentence, yet it brought tears to my eyes. I used to write....I used to sing, I used to live. I lived my life, and I was always creating. Even know, my brain is constantly fighting my common sense...my heart and mind want to create and to live, and my common sense wants simply to survive.

        This week has been a wonderful experience for me, because I finally admitted to myself that I am not "done." I'm not like a loaf of bread that has simply stopped baking, stopped evolving. We are chameleons, and there are things a person can continue to learn about themselves. What do I love, where do I want to be...I know that I don't want to be tied down to a place or to a person, until I feel more mature and complete than I do at this moment. I spoke to a wonderful friend of mine at the gym several days ago, regarding yoga, meditation, and self discovery. She told me gently that I have been so busy surviving, that I have forgotten what it means to live, and to learn new things about myself. For several years, when I have hit a roadblock, I simply try to "survive" through it, to deal with it as best I am able - but have not been able todig deeper, to discover why I have the same recurring problems and stresses, and what I can learn about myself, and how I handle challenges. Perhaps I could handle my challenges in a very different, organized and cool headed fashion. For example, when I'm pushing through my day and I run into something tedious and problematic that I don't want to do, I've been asking myself - "in your history, has ignoring things ever proven helpful? Wouldn't finishing this today be positive for your future?" If the answer is yes, I tackle the problem with gusto, knowing that much like a tough workout, it's just going to become easier and more automatic every time.


    I am slowing and losing my train of thought, but I would like to end with this; there is no deadline, no final countdown. We are artistic beings, and we are creating and changing until the day we die. I want to find the child in me who would sing until my throat was raw...until I was closer to getting it right. The kid who sang...because she loved to sing. ANd I think I would write for much the same reason. I don't think I'm going to have very many "two year plans," "five year plans," etc. I think I am going to live my life. I will always strive to get back to the drawing board and extract a more euphoric experience, I promise myself that. In the end, I can't depend on anyone except myself to fuel a positive outcome. I always said I wanted my career more than any man, and if I died alone with a history of gorgeous singing behind me, well, that would not have been a life lived in vain. Funny how maturity can wane in and out, I think I had more common sense at twelve years old when I recall some of my former philosophies!

Conclusion: there is beauty in flaws. And sucess is not defined by trophies or medals, but by the sheer effort of moving forward. Even though the art may not be recognized in your lifetime. We all have a duty to the universe, and we were all put here for something unique to ourselves, and we can't deny that gift, to our inner spirit or to the universe. :)

Please excuse any casual punctuation or grammar this time. It's been ages since I've written.