Just One of Those Introspective Thangs

Today at church an excerpt of my work from a book I'm published in was read as part of the lesson. It's one of those moments in life where your breath is taken away. Yesterday night my breath was also stolen as Hedwig kissed me on the lips...well...close enough anyway. But it's not the fact that I was picked out from a crowd of people that impressed on me so much, but that I meant something enough to be seperate in this amazing audience enough to be singled out.

Here I am. I'm a background girl all the way. If life were a stage I'd be the chair that was always in the background to create the scene but never acknowledged or even sat in.I might not even be a real chair, I might be a realistically painted facsimile of a chair on the wooden panelled set. Now, don't think I'm depressed and find myself insignificant. I don't. I'm of consequence to the situation. Usually. I have the honor of being the ultimate spectator. Yesterday was a rare day of spotlight. It was nice. Today has been similar, though with lesser flair and tomato juice.

I find my life suddenly moving foreward. And, even more significant than this, I believe I've found my life. I thought it was stuck in the back of the dryer, but here its been the whole time.

No one ever wants to admit their own successes. To do that would seem egotistical. Society deems such self-adorement over-bearing and extraneous. If you're good you'll know it by the paparazzi's direction and the amount of coke you snort in ability to regain confidence. Or, if you're well adjusted, you'll be a one-hit wonder.

And so something deep down in my psyche, conditioned with precise care, hurts and pains at the admission that my writing is something of calliber enough to effect someone. My ego shivers in anticipation at the brush to its tangled mess of contradictions.

But, I like my writing. And I want to paint with my words in that totally overused cliche kind of way. I want to effect people and maybe give them a new direction of looking at things. Turn things counterclockwise. Turn the page of life upside down. My talk with Mr. Beuerlein yesterday night and the fact that he's been reading gives me a confidence I can't explain except to say that if I mean more than a painting of a chair on the backdrop of some lesser than par level performance of some lesser than par level play, maybe I can mean more to everyone else in that same way.

I'm having a good day.

I'm going to buy some pencils that aren't piss-colored.

currently: I feel so...optomistic!

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