The artist formerly known as...

I met with some mommy friends from church yesterday and I noticed something about myself. I can speak a little bit more coherently than before. These GRE words are flying out of my mouth and my eyes grow big with glee realizing that I thunk up such big words on the fly. Words like juxtaposition, laconic, fo' shizzle. And I think it has do to with the fact that I have been blogging. Prior to this, I have only written emails and some Arbonne trainings since I left the work world. I do have a mommy journal that has some ramblings about Joey and Elysha as babies. But that is about it.

I kept saying last night that I believe everyone has one good novel in them. I have always wanted to write mine. I have no delusions that I can actually make a living by being a scribe. Or that Angelina Jolie will play me in the movie, that is based on the book, that is based on my life. But I just know that at the very least, I have a good short story that I can cook up and some periodical will want to publish it (maybe Vanity Fair, The New Yorker, Our Family Newsletter--only the distinguished journals).

I used to write all the time--mostly poems. But my poetry came from a very melancholic heart--which is why I LOVED foreign poets. Aside from Edgar Allen Poe, I found that foreign poets were the most passionate, yearning-filled, and unrequited. And I identified with them so profoundly. But then God healed my heart and my life fell into place. Then there was silence. From time to time, the silence was deafening. But I always felt that I could not let myself get to that emotional state, that for me, is my creative state.

These days, however, there is a yearning to write again...I guess we'll just have to see...