Friday, January 6, 2023

Let's Try This Again

 OK here we go 2023. Let's see if I can keep up with this. To be clear, this is not about the typical resolutions that people do each new year. My creative commitment to myself has been ongoing and this blog is part of that. I have had a long journey as the rest of us have had the last few years thanks to a pandemic that we are still in. While some things have gotten better, the looming days of a divided world and the prospect of a healthcare collapse still whisper to us. The few mask wearers and recluse hold outs are a reminder that this thing is not over even if we pretend it is. It's going to stay with us. And while the remnants and memories of what I have experienced may find its way into this series I am starting, the focus will not be on the pandemic. 

So what am I trying to say? What is my focus? What is this commitment that I speak of to whom ever reads this and to myself? I have found over the last few years that I have much to say. I have over 30 years of journals and stories to prove that. I have 46 years on this planet that's full of happiness, sorrows, and everything in between. Sharing thoughts and stories have always been my go to. I wouldn't say that I have had an extraordinary life but I have had some extraordinary experiences. I would argue that most of us have. The difference between mine and others is that I am willing to share a lot of what I have experienced  in the hopes that maybe it helps someone. Also, my brain needs to dump. I am also not afraid to admit that I have enough of an ego to share and believe that people will be interested. 

I've been going about this journey in many ways and for most of my life. My first dream was to be an actress. I did plays. I performed for anyone who would watch. Then I wanted to be a pop star. I've always wanted to be a writer. Hence the journal keeping for over 30 years. Mom introduced me to the diary when I was 11. We had watched The Diary of Anne Frank. I must have expressed sone kind of interest in the fact that Anne, a girl not much older than myself, had kept a diary and the whole world read it years after her death. She was just a young girl with dreams in a world that didn't want her to exist. Even though she no longer lives, she will forever exist as long as those pages continue to stay in print. I'm not sure I thought deeply about it then. Mom just knew that I was a creative and she did seek to nurture that in me. 

When I was in the 7th grade, Ms. Slotemaker was my reading teacher. She too noticed that I loved the craft of writing. Because of her I went to a writer's workshop for kids two summers in a row. She would often tell me that I would end up on tv. And I have. I already had by the time I met her. My siblings and I were in a commercial for the local news stations. I had already been a model for a department store. She knew it would be on a bigger scale And it has. I wish it was more. It's exciting to see yourself on a major network. I'm not going to lie about that. 

The nurturing worked. I write. I have published a book. I've written short films. I've produced them. I've produced plays. I have been on tv and done a few commercials. I currently have a web series on You Tube based on a one-woman show that I hope to perform live this year, I have managed to do quite a bit even though I have a full time job. I want to do more. This series is a part of that. I have another book idea in mind but it's been hard to organize. My commitment to you dear reader, if you are indeed reading, is to share some of my insights from my journals and from the multiple essays I have fleshed out on paper or on this computer. It's going to be challenging. It always is right? It's tough to sit in a room and commit to baring your soul and hope there is more. It's a time commitment as most things are. Of course my husband has always encouraged my creativity. He has not always understood the ways it needs to manifest itself. However, he has watched me write and journal for the last 25 years and he knows it's crucial for my survival. He has pushed me into Mom's old bedroom and made a pace for me. My own office. That's another blog in itself. In the meantime, here's to baring my soul. 

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