I have always been a writer. In my mind. Occasionally pen finds paper and a few twenty pages in a pretty ill journal…smells familiar. Empty pages though.
I suppose we will see how this goes. A little bit of everything. No “I’m a music junkie mom of 4” bio-tagline-niki-keepin’-it-100-hiphop-forever-birdwatchin-buddhist-wannabe blah, blah, blah…I’m laughing now. Yes, a little bit of everything but mostly nothing…a gemini…with intentions on lightravel…travelight
I make grammatical error.
I fly from one subject to the next
my thought process (G.O.O.D.I.E.)
cell therapy and attempts at fuller pages
I guess we could make this “revival” all poetic or whatever, and call it a return or even a rebirth. Because here I am a mother, a full time professional, a full time student, a full time thinker and worrier, flitting from one thought to another, attempting a blog. I feel called to write more often. I prefer to write with a really good pen or pencil. I think I have a better shot going digital. I am not sure who will find this blog or who I will share it with. I can promise only myself for now. Constant musical connotations and references, sex, race, money, superficial politics, actin’ like I know, old thoughts, new beliefs, is what first comes to mind. I write for healing perhaps. Or maybe to fulfill this sudden desire to make sure I am seen as more than all of that regular ish. What IS that?! I’m still too scared. Pretty funny as I grow older to become a little more withdrawn but in a happier, introspective way. I’m probably gonna spout some pretty contrived “universe, karma…I am trying to reap goodness and grow everyday” hilariousness. Ahh well. Trying to stay ahead of what’s heavy. Unload.
I’m gonna change my mind. I need it to be easy.