All my life I’ve been writing. I wrote on walls with crayon. I wrote on the sidewalks with colored chalk. I wrote in a secret locked diary with kitty cats on the front, so cute, then penned over with hand drawn pot leafs and OZZY RULES 4EVER along with the name of my current crush, then scratched out and replaced by another, then another, then another..
I wrote sappy poems. I once wrote a little story that even had chapters to it for a friend when we were teenagers. I’d give her a chapter a week because it was a story of an adventure that had featured us. Somehow to my absolute horror it had circulated chapter by chapter around nearly the entire sophomore class of my high school. Thankfully it was met with enthusiasm and great critique. I grew up and as my relationships grew up along with me I kept more mature journals. I had a particular way with descriptives, once refering to the man in my life at that time as pig vomit. See. Colorful. Years later I would revisit these journals and laugh at myself so hard I’d cry. Low self esteem, the need to be needed and co dependency write a hilarious screenplay for sure, yet so true. Maybe that’s why I love cheesy sitcoms so much, fragmentations of my own life. Yet tucked away in the in between were written moments so quietly profound, so raw, so honest that they’d take my own breath away and when I’d read through them I was right there. All over again. I could reach out and touch that rose on the bush in front of the house. I could still smell the scent of that dark blue candle I’d burn as it mingled with the scent of the outdated house we lived in. In the evening alone with my little baby in the dark wondering why I was even there. I could hear the rain as it pounded down so hard on the sky window in the middle of the night. I was right there again, looking up wondering if the glass would hold.
I’d ace every writing assignment given me all throughout school. Though I admit I struggle with proper grammar. Blah. The grammatically afflicted, that’d be me. I couldn’t care less about the proper structure of a sentence, just tell me what you mean. We’ll understand it. It all sounds the same anyway regardless of it’s ‘structure’. It’s the Sagittarius in me. Somehow I’d manage to find a way to muddle through that part of it. But let my free mind loose weilding pen in hand, oh the places I’d go! I’d take you too.
My parents no doubt wondering what they were going to do with the likes of a daydreamer like me had asked if I were at all interested in going to college. I wasn’t opposed to the idea even though I wasn’t fond of school and struggled with it, later finding it would be the ADD that had tripped me up all those years.
When they asked what I think I’d like to major in I happily said English. That must have been met with disapproval behind closed doors because it was never acknowledged or put back on the table again, instead I went off to have a fulfilling career as the midnight shift gas station cashier for a few years. More then a decade later my mom had come across something I had written and genuinely wondered why I never did anything with that. Really. Her words were: “You write really well. Why didn’t you ever go to school for that?” That question would be answered on my end with silence. I was struggling with a host of different demons by then with a baby on my hip to boot, ain’t got no time to go down that road now.
That brings me here today, in the wake of a kajillion blogs. Here I can find my voice at last and for whatever. I can tell you my funny stories. I can share my life lessons. I’ll tell you things I found out along my way like it’s a secret, but really ain’t, but we can pretend it is. Just kindly overlook my improper grammar, masterfully unstructured sentences and the likes thereof. I’ve already told you of my grammar affliction and I’m ok with that. I’ll Google where to place a semi-colon, if I remember to. The following entries will no doubt be riddled with improper grammar, run on sentences (my personal favorite) typos and misspelled words. Yes, somehow even with spellcheck. I’m cool with that. Just roll with it. You know I know who you are.
*semicolon: use a semicolon between two independent clauses that are connected by conjunctive adverbs or transitional phrase.