The First of July - A New Beginning

Today is the beginning of something. And beginnings are always exciting. Endless possibilities are consistently waiting in the wings for a new beginning, a fresh start to arrive. And when the beginning finally takes flight, all that has been dormant has the ability to flourish. Directly after, new possibilities fill the foot-prints of the old and wait impatiently for their chance to stake their claim, for their chance to evolve. However, beginnings are also daunting and inspire fear. What if all the daydreams, all the thoughts do not translate in reality? What if ideas were better left unsaid? And worst of all, what if all the quieted thoughts and desires, those that are kept sacred and in the depths of one's mind, were much more impressive as figments or imaginings and are mere nothings once they become tangible? Nonetheless, a beginning is the opportunity to take a chance, to do something, and to relinquish the comfort of looking back. It is a chance to be brave and take risks. A beginning means that you have not only grabbed the reins of the future, but pulled on them...hard. And now you are off on some adventure or another, unsure of where you are going or where you may end up, but you are courageous enough to face what lies ahead. Bravo.
...I believe I have just congratulated myself.

Aside from beginnings, I love saving things. The drawers of my desk are filled to the brim with memories. I have a shoe box, covered in blue wrapping paper, that contains letters, ticket stubs, and certain e-mails and internet conversations that were of some significance when they were printed. I also keep birthday cards. Usually people discard them immediately, as they are more eager to open the present then read someone else's words. But I cherish them, because they are hints of the past. Photography is the most well-known form of remembrance. It has come to my attention that I am in a constant state of nostalgia and therefore feel almost spiritual when I see a beautiful photograph. I miss my childhood and the past several times in one day. I guess thinking about the "things that once were" is my escape from the present and the future. Because those elusive ideals scare the hell out of me. It's silly. Not only do I want what I can't have. I want what I've already had but will never have again.

Anyway, to make a long explanation short, to "nut-shell it", if you will, I have saved a number of passages and poems, excerpts and stories from the course of my life, thus far. They are scattered throughout my room, saved in random folders on my computer, and still inside of me (so many countless, "possible", unwritten words that are screaming to be put onto paper, or in this case, onto the screen). This blog will not be my journal. Though writing has always come naturally to me and is, perhaps, ingrained in me, I have never been able to keep a steady diary. Writing about trivial things, like my daily activities, bores me and I was never able to throw myself into that kind of routine. I don't believe anyone wants to read about my life on a day to day basis anyway. To be blunt, and probably slightly offensive, I find this kind of blogging to be ego-centric. When I read a blog, which is actually quite rare, I'd prefer not read about how wonderful someone's life is and how he did a,b, and c that day. Tell me something real, something painful, something inspiring. That is what interests me. You may call me cynical, I simply see myself as a realist.

Like Drew Casper, one of my film professors at USC and someone whose words I take to heart, once told us in lecture: the young people of this generation are "post-modern babies". We strive or struggle to create a world of our very own, where we, as individuals, are the center. We create facebook profiles and myspace pages in hopes of enveloping ourselves into a world of "me, me, me!". Our faces are plastered on the computer screen along with posed images of ourselves, laughing, making "sexy", "goofy" faces, holding red cups at parties all to send some warped message out to other people. So that we can judge others and be judged in return, but only to the extent that we provide. It is all surface and I agree with Casper. No one walks to class and admires the trees or the serenity of our surroundings anymore. Instead we chat mindlessly into cell phones or blast music through headphones - separating ourselves from the world. We limit our human connections by sending simple text messages due to ease and comfort. We don't challenges ourselves. We are lazy and sucked into a world of technology.

So...here I am - being, semi-hypocritical (as I do have a facebook, although I have grappled with it, deleted it, retrieved it - my main reason for keeping it being that, sadly, if I get rid of it again, I will, consequently, be cut off from many people whom I care about). And now I am writing a blog. But I don't want this to be my means of telling the world about myself. I don't want this to be self-centered. I know that, inherently, a blog can be seen as very "self" oriented, but this is not my intention. Instead, I want this to be a means of sharing creative work. I will be posting my creative writing in hopes that people will be inspired, moved, or entertained. In hopes that someone out there, who feels lonely and helpless, realizes that he/she is not the only one.

One Last Thought: My "father" (for lack of a better word) left my mother and I before I was born. He has virtually never been a part of my life and in doing so he has indirectly chosen the path I have taken. Despite the bouts of anger and emotional roller coaster his absence has caused me, I would still welcome him with open arms. My father-daughter story is not like the ones portrayed in films. The father doesn't come back. He doesn't beg for forgiveness while the angst-ridden teenager shuts the door in her father's face and says she can't forgive him. Sometimes there is a trite, happy ending where the two float off on some hot-air balloon ride (re: Drive Me Crazy starring the beloved Melissa Joan Hart) or they hug and cry in eachother's arms. Other times it is the child that completes the cycle of rejection. But here I am, willing to forgive someone who has caused so much unhappiness and unnecessary stress in my life, and he is not here...never has been and never will be. I am sharing such an intimate detail about my life because I believe that his absence is the cause for my innate desire, my intrinsic gravitation towards writing and other creative outlets such as singing, dancing, and acting. Research and data support the theory that children of single parents latch on to activities where communication is the key. Where being in the spotlight, being heard is of the utmost importance. And it is true, above everything, I long to reach other people. I use my writing first as a way to express what I am thinking and how I am feeling in hopes of releasing the down-trodden, negative sentiments that are all-encompassing. Other times I am simply inspired by an observation or a story and use writing as a means of making what I see in my mind or in reality into something more concrete. But ultimately I write as a means of communication. Thus the purpose of this blog is to share and connect. Do with it what you will.

Comments on anything and everything are encouraged.