Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Where I want to be 10 years from now...written in 1993

I've begun digging through some old journals and notebooks, rediscovering a period where I was doing some stream of consciousness writing and poetry. It has taken longer than 10 years, but I feel like I am pretty close to what I was dreaming about on this February day in 1993. Although, my black coffee- no cream & sugar has been replaced with gallons of Irish tea accompanied by cream & sugar, and a keyboard has replaced my pen and stacks of paper...

Where I want to be 10 years from now
February 18, 1993

I want to be a writer. I want to be a writer. I will be a writer. I will brandish my pen as if a sword - slashing down words with passion, slicing with pain, whistling with witticisms. I will be the heroine -dancing with glee - feeling my heart in my throat. Having passions - putting them on paper. I will sit in my book lined study, the scent of books in my nostrils - the crisp, clean paper stacked up high - pens and pencils there. Perhaps they will be scattered. I shall feel incredibly alive and connected. Some days I will be filled with doubts - feeling fuzzy and worthless. Then a turn in the road and inspiration hits, the wings of thought fluttering into my creative pool, splashing me back in the face. My coffee cup by my side. The smell wafting up to my nose - comfort, warmth, definitive black.

When someone asks what I do, I shall look them boldly in the eye and say with ease... I am a writer. Sometimes thoughts will lie clenched in my stomach, fears gnawing at my gut. Then expelled bursting upon paper. Perhaps I will have to leave my study, my sanctuary and move my body - allowing the rock which is fear to roll out of my toes, so that I can bend over, pick it up, throw it in the air and watch it twirl another way before catching it. Or, I will pick it up and hurl it as hard as I can out the window. Oh joy! To really feel at one with myself - to have a deep private moment and then tease it out and let it seduce another. My red passion, my white terror, coloring a canvas of my own creation. I shall be the painter, the sculptor, the actress, the musician, the writer - all of these in one. The giant smile full of fierce sparkling teeth that has lain deep within my belly, the small child that dances there, safely - will come to dance upon my desk in the sunbeams ...smiling her rapt smile and she will be me.


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18 comments:

flutter said...

I adore this.

Jenn @ Juggling Life said...

I'm amazed you were that in touch with what you wanted. I'm glad you're achieving your dream.

Kalynne Pudner said...

"My red passion, my white terror, coloring a canvas of my own creation." I like this.

But...where in this scenario are your kids? Oh, I know: they're climbing your stacks of paper to harvest and embellish each pristine sheet with Washable Crayola Markers.

Seriously, the passage has a very fresh and excited voice. Nice.

jennifer h said...

You are a writer. You are a writer. you are a writer.

Your thoughts and words are stunning. They take my breath away.

liv said...

and look at what you manifested! magnificent!

furiousBall said...

When I left the band I was playing in about 6 years ago to be a dad, someone said, "you'll always be a musician, you don't need a band to be a musician". By the same token, you will always be a writer. you just need to, you know, write things

Madge said...

i love this. i love that you are doing this. you are giving me courage. for real.

All Adither said...

Wow, look at your new site! Awesome!

Sober Briquette said...

wonderful

wonderful you.

Janet said...

That last line?
Yes, indeed, you are a writer.

Lisa said...

You have achieved your goal! You ARE a writer.
This was amazing--I'm glad you saved and shared.

painted maypole said...

love your imagery here, and so glad you're living it! :)

Tootsie Farklepants said...

You ARE a writer. Van Gough was a painter for years before getting any recognition but no one would say that those years he was not a painter.

Not to say that you aren't recognized. Just go with what I'm trying to say here.

Not Your Regular Mini Van Mom said...

You are a beautiful writer, your words leap off the page. I am jealous :) My scribblings never sound that good...maybe I need to practice more!

Jen said...

I really hope that one day you are paid the big bucks to write (and me too - I won't even mind the competition if it's you : ) )
Believe it or not, I wrote a poem for a contest in elementary school about what you want to be when you grow up and won a prize. I said I wanted to be a teacher or a writer, but most importantly, a mom! Maybe I'll search for it and post it sometime.

Suzanne said...

Ah, the double edged sword that is our journals...

You are a writer, of course...how does this post compare with where you are today? Are you surprised by how far you've come? Do you recognize your progress as a writer?

-suz

Mary Alice said...

You are writer - and not only that, but God has given you even more...you have a life fuller than you could have even imagined then.

HRH said...

That was breathtaking.

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