My Mess

Before I came to Raleigh, I had this romanced image of myself that I wanted to achieve.  I was sitting on the floor surrounded by paints, brushes, and canvases; the utensils that comprise a creative life.  And I was painting.


Because the last time I picked up a paintbrush — other than to repaint some walls — was in middle school, mandated by a program I was in.  I never signed up to take an art class in high school or college.  Clearly, painting is not my creative therapy.

However, I eagerly anticipated high school AP English and then, after two years of back and forth, chose English as my major in college. 

All the signs point somewhere.  And it’s not to an easel. 

In the last few weeks, though, I have allowed blog posts and articles to create my version of a painter’s mess on the floor.

I pulled out some posterboard and have taken to writing down notes as they bubble to the surface.  For example, I want my articles to be thematic of my belief that unemployment can be empowering.  And I would like for an aspect of the blog to express how seemingly insignificant events can help shape some life lessons.

It’s been nice.  To have these guideposts to rely on.  It provides character, plot, and theme.  The tools of someone who likes to write.

*A new article can be found here.


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