Sunday, December 30, 2012


Words and music have seduced me my entire life.

I don't ever remember a time without music and books. One of my earliest memories is of diving headfirst into a huge cardboard box full of children's books at a yard sale. The woman had told me I could have as many books as I could carry, and my mother had to pull me away crying because I couldn't hold as many as I want. It is quite obscene the number of books I own now. I honestly thought if I got a Kindle, that would reduce my purchasing of real life books. Hasn't even slowed it down.

Music is another obsession of mine. My paternal Grandmother dreamed of going to Nashville and becoming a great singer like Patsy Cline. And then she met Grandpa. Seven kids later, she contented herself with singing with her children, and passing her passion on to them. One uncle has played with Bob Seger and Chicago, as well as putting out several albums with his own bands. My dad is a pretty damn good singer, the other two brothers play guitar and drums respectively, one aunt teaches music. Music is as essential to me as air. I think I started reading my dad's Rolling Stone magazines when I was 7. One of the greatest regrets of my life? I can't sing or play a note. I think occasionally about trying to learn an instruement. It may happen some day.

One thing I can do, and do damn well, is write. I've kept a journal since I was about 6 or 7 (the first one was a Minnie Mouse journal. Cute as hell.), and I've written stories and poetry since then as well. I'm really getting back into the story writing, and I'm determined to be published some day very soon. I want to be the author that convinces a kid or adult that they love to read, and can't live without it in their life. All the places I've been in my mind, from the surface of Mars to the sewers of Derry, Maine, have inspired me.  I want to be that inspiration for someone else. I want my words to transport an awkward teenage girl to another world, where she can speak with dragons and save the entire planet. Reading, and dreaming myself somewhere else may have been the only things that got me through the unrelenting hell that was high school. It is also the reason my first tattoo was a dragon's head. Thank you Anne McCaffrey.

Is that a little arrogant of me? Maybe. I've realized lately I don't give a damn if it is or not. This is a part of myself I've allowed to be walled up for too damn long, and I'm clawing at those fucking bricks with bloody fingers until only rubble is left. And for the first time in a very long time, I feel like I can draw a complete breath. So maybe I should think about guitar lessons?