I feel as though I’m losing my voice … as if it’s fading or off-key. This is observations in the key of d afterall, and I can’t have any “pitchy” inconsistencies dawg. Anyway, I feel that it was my power of observation, my voice rather, that has carried me this far – in terms of career and personal perspective. I don’t want to become one of those superficially fun people – you know the ones who after five minutes you discover have absolutely nothing to offer. Writing here and in my personal journals has given me visions of where I need to go, it has but provided me with an outlet to relieve frustrations and worries and pain and anxiety … and as more and more on-the-job accountability finds its way to my desk I feel now more than ever I need to reclaim my balance and perspective. In short, I’ve got to tighten up on the writing, so if you ever find yourself wanting to while away some moments, come here as there will be stuff to read. All of it won’t be good (I like to think that it’s all good, but looking back, it ain’t …), but it’ll be here and it’s the real me. And that’s what this is about isn’t it? The real me … since you can’t get my babblings in person, in the flesh, on a trampoline past midnight, in the long-forgotten hallways of a residence hall or in a cabin-side crazy creek chat, you may as well get it here.
(One friend surprised me today with an instant message. Gene, it was good to hear from you as I’d been missing you … )
She pointed out the sadness that one post contained … true. It wasn’t the chirpiest of posts, but I’m learning to be more real because it just works better for me. And honestly, once I wrote the post about feeling lonesome, I felt better. I’m just one of those people I’ve come to realize – one who, for better or worse, politically correct or not, just needs to let it out. Once I speak my piece, I’m alright. I realize that it may be a more selfish way of going about life, always dumping one’s grinds and gripes on the world, but woe is my spirit that tries to carry such burdens. I just don’t have the temperament for it. This I’ve learned through the wisdom that being 25 provides and plus, I’ve been told numerous times by family members and now co-workers that it’s just too obvious when I’m weary. (Apparently, the sunny side of my disposition has a higher popularity rating than its moody, melancholy counterpart).
It keeps striking me as funny how I’m seen by people. I so live entirely in my head. I have a vision that my face isn’t nearly as expressive as it actually is – which probably explains why I’ve never felt the need to play poker. I’d suck. My heart, my disdain, my pleasures are all perfectly worn on an ever-wrinkling sleeve – imperfectly and wholeheartedly revealing … I like it that way though. I’m not one for pretense.
But as usual, I digress. So here I am. I met a screenwriter the other day and remembered my writing aspirations, so that’s one more reason to write – as if I should need a reason. With all the encouragement from y’all and life material/inspiration, you’d think there’d be 110 pages chronicling my life already … but all in due time my friends, all in due time. The day will come when I’ll invite you all to sashay down the red carpet with me – we will chill on terraces from penthouse rooftops and talk about how sweet it all is …
I just sipped two delicious cosmo zingers – prime Stolichnaya vodka and some fresh ginger sprigged in there … I’m feeling delightfully metropolitan. I wish all of you to come here soon … let us fun together. (I just believe, when tipsy or otherwise, that fun should be a verb.)