Permission

She sits, wondering waiting

Why is it that she’s so alone

 There’s so much to see, so much to do,

 But its all empty all dust

 All vanity

Nothing is worth the loneliness. Alone

Afraid

She stands. Walks around, what is there to see? Visions she’s seen a thousand times

Pictures engraved into her lonely mind that have forever been there

Images of a life she never knew painted onto

pages and canvases

And then she is gone, 

out past her mind 

past the gaping window 

and she is flying

her fears are left behind and she is free. 

She passes people, houses, smiles and laughs.

---

Dear Reader, this is the first unfinished, unpolished, unposted draft that I found waiting for me on my return to this blog. I can honestly say I don't know what was going on in my life when I wrote it. I don't even remember if it came from my perspective or a character piece. I know I took the photo. I don't know why I didn't post it.

I make a lot of excuses, I don't have time, no one will read it...do I even want people to read it. I have a very particular thing about deleting and starting over--I don't just like to get things right, I like to get them right the first time. Maybe this is why I have never changed my Instagram username, or why I have trouble starting papers. Maybe it's why I have trouble sometimes producing art.

This year I learned a lot about permission. I learned about vulnerability and being wrong and making things messily, trying extremes. I learned that you have to let yourself be connected to your art--to own what your character did, be okay with letting people see parts of them in you, whether that character is onstage or on a page (or screen).

I like to post things that are concise, I don't like to explain (or I explain too much). I don't like to ramble. I like to be profound and artistic, but that limits me. I have been inspired by a dear friends blog--someone who is sharing life with her audience (shout-out: you know exactly who you are)--and I know I want to write. Maybe I just need to give myself permission.

I have also been inspired that I now have people in my life who I believe would read my blog (however infrequently) and who might just might care about it. And that terrifies me! But at the same time... thrills me. And I thought about it and, yes, I like it a little that people actually read my stuff--I guess maybe its selfish or showing off, but if I'm going to wait to make things until my motives are completely pure--No more art for me.

So here's whats going to happen reader,
First, I'm going to call you reader when I feel like it. I liked this idea a lot (#stolen or inspired, whichever you choose to believe) and it makes me less inclined to be profound or perfect. Plus it reminds me someone in fact might be out there!

Second, I am going to post. I don't know what, I don't know how often, but I am going to give myself permission to post rough drafts, unfinished pieces, opinions that I might contradict later, observations about life. I even want to do some videos of pieces read out-loud and link them here, but lets not get carried away.

Thirdly, I am going to ask you to continue reading. It challenges me. I might write a separate post about why later, but to have people I know reading my work--it is a good kind of difficult.