Wednesday, January 23, 2008

The girl can't help it...

There's this new Fergie song that is constantly stuck in my sounds familiar, like it's a cover or a sample...Malcolm, help me out. Is it Little Richard?

I used to write a lot of poetry. I was even published in a college textbook and two poetry compilations. I don't have a copy of any of them, lol. They were about relationships and involved nature metaphors.

Do all bloggers long to be serious writers?

How did you envision your life when you were an angsty (or idealistic) teen? I had all kinds of plans, all kinds of ideas.

I was going to be a film maker and challenge the minds of the world.

I was going to be a sportswriter or announcer. A witty female with the scoop on all the ins and outs of baseball, tennis, football, golf...

I was going to be a journalist with an edge, but sympathetic to the everyman(woman).

If you'd asked my friends how they saw me in 10 years, they'd have said I'd be dressed in a wardrobe of black, flying high on caffeine with a cigarette burning away between my fingers.

In reality, I'm a feisty single mother recovering from a series of bad relationships and a marriage to a soul-sucking taker. Like that cigarette seen burning between my fingers, I was crushed out into an ash stained tray.

Something has re-lit the flame. I don't know if it is my latent survival skills kicking in in the face of adversity, or the love of a good man, but the ember is glowing again.

I may never be on the New York Times bestseller list, I may never call a championship game, but by God, I have a blog and a head full of nonsense. This is either fuel for the fire, or a recipe for disaster. Only time will tell.

The blogosphere is a unique experience. We are screen names, we are avatars, we are one. There will always be someone willing to share too much information, and then allow us to comment on it. It's like a soap opera, only without a writer's strike threatening to destroy our drama.