Introduction (or Prologue)

I recently created a blog for my art and performance work to use as a marketing tool - to have a reason to document my work in progress, an easy forum to show off my finished pieces, to be able to talk freely about why I make the work that I do, what I'm thinking about it, where it comes from, what inspires me... and so on.

This is not that blog.

I realized I needed something ELSE, something a little hidden, something without my picture or a link to my website... something a little more private where I could just write. I'm not going to post the link to this on my facebook page so my 356 friends can read it. I don't mind if a few people stumble across it - I'm having a hard enough time getting folks to read the one I want them to - though I doubt too many people are going to become dedicated readers if they can't even find it. The internet is large, and there are a lot of "writers" out there. There are "writers", like my upstairs neighbor, Greg, where in 9 out of 10 conversations I've had with him involve the phrase "my novel." And then there are actual writers, who make a living, say, writing books or articles. And I guess I am part of the faction of "people who write" - I have always written fairly well and often, kept journals, got A's in English class, wrote for the school paper, maybe thought about applying to a journalism school for college but didn't. Instead I went to art school, where we didn't exactly have minors, but had "concentrations" instead, and mine were Video and Creative Writing. One of my writing teachers submitted a story I wrote for a writing scholarship and I won. I eventually made a sound piece/video project turned Senior Thesis magnum opus out of it. I was proud. (This one isn't on YouTube, due to objectionable content : drugs, boobs. The title is "Empathy.") So I'm that kind of writer.

I'm worried, somewhat, that I may let this get crappy: write stream of consciousness/poorly, confuse people and/or myself, or worse: bore myself and others. I'll try not to do any of that. Am I doing it already? I hope not. It does feel good to let the words out. It's so hard sometimes, to catch them... they drift in and out of our thoughts, sometimes so quickly that a pen and paper can never grasp the idea entirely, leaving things out and forgetting parts. Typing really is superior, then, and I've always preferred it. I've kept "computer journals" for years, documenting, expressing, exploding thoughts, feelings, ideas, loves, hates - and have let go of this incessant documentation as of late, finding it not so important. (Or maybe it was that time when the boyfriend I was dating started reading some things he really didn't want to know.)

Regardless, I have always needed to write, and I stopped for awhile there... and kids, we are back. (insert 15 minute break) Okay, now we're back. I got up when I realized it was noon and I was still in my pajamas - been awake since 9:30 - went and changed my clothes, reheated my tea, and thought of a million things that I wanted to talk about in this blog. On that note, this post is done. Enough writing about writing. Consider this the introduction.