Who Am I And Why Am I Writing to You?

One of the first things I learned as a writer is that characterswhether fictitious or realhave to live and breathe. Otherwise, why should the reader care about them, or what they have to say? That being said, I am the character who is writing to you in my blog. So who am I, and why would you want to hear my thoughts?

My definition of myself is, "With me, what you see is what you get. Whether or not you like me is up to you. But this is what there is."

Another definition came from a buddy who told me I was, "...like a puzzle
and every day you get a different piece."

So...for better or for worse...here are a few stream of consciousness pieces of the "puzzle" that is me:

I've always said that my home is my castle; that it can be as big as my hand (like my studio apartment when I lived in NYC), but it is my castle. So how is it that in the last twenty-four years I've moved from: my house in Iowa to highrises in Chicago for 13+ years, to a 4th floor walkup in New York for 6 1/2+ years, and now to a sun-filled apartment in Los Angeles, for 7+ months? My daughter said maybe I have a lot of castles.

Call me irreverent, but when I love a book I jot down my thoughts on the pages...highlight words, and sometimes paragraphs, and do it again, and again every time I read it. Until it resembles a well-worn, rainbow-like journal. I bought two books by Louise Nevelson that I'd been searching for since forever ago. I hesitated for a few moments before reading them. And then...I started highlighting. I'm sure she would have understood.

If I could go back in time, I would have danced more. Literally and figuratively. In junior high, there wasn't room in my schedule to continue taking the art classes that transported me into a magical world. In high school, I finally had room for them, but thought it was too late
because everyone would be so much better than I. I wish I could have given that sixteen-year-old girl a big hug, and told her what I know now...that she was safe taking the art classes. Because creativity lives inside us...all we have to do is set it free.

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