After an intense year of graduate school, keeping a full-time job with little breaks, I have a ginormous creative block.

I am saucy…
I am ready…

I …am still starring at a blank page.

I even tried to draw/paint again to try to break through the artistic brick wall.

I…am still starring at a blank page.

So, I decided to go back to files.  I, the sassy school girl I am, have saved almost every paper I have written since third grade. 

I found this excerpt from “An Autobiography” I wrote in high school for “Period F” almost 19 years ago. This excerpt is in direct translation – wording, grammar and all. The best friend I speak of is, of course, the infamous Kaz.

Perhaps this was foreshadowing of the blog…

        “My best friend and I would go to the mall every Friday night because we both knew a lot of people that hung around there. My best friend’s sister would also come with us and we would meet a lot of people through her also because she was the same age as us. This was when I started to realize that there was more to the world then preppy stuck-ups. My own personality began to be born, I started wearing new and different clothes and wearing my hair a different way. Boys started to come alive and this was where the fights with mom and dad started to begin.

        The fights were always about the same thing–dating and boys. My side of the story was that I wanted to be able to date people if I wanted to. My parent’s side of the story was that I could not date until I was sixteen and that they were going to stay close to that rule. It did not help that two of my cousins had the same rule, which made it even harder. I was determined to get my way. My parents were determined to get their way. Everytime we would have this conversation we would bang our heads together and would not wish to recognize the other person’s feelings and thoughts. I guess by that time they were sick of fighting and decided I was responsible enough because after a long, long time they gave in.”

Ah…inspiration.

I could still smell the typewriter (yes, typewriter) ink on the paper.

Finally, a crackle of creative light...