Oct. 19th, 2010


Oct. 19th, 2010 12:03 am
plumgirl: (magic)
Inside the shadows,
There is no reason;
my heart can dance to music...

At times I wish I grew up with an ordinary aptitude for math, science, and other things, for I'm certain I would have pushed or fallen into some sort of place where I would be locked up and told to play my music, or draw my pictures, or write out the visions in my head.

Sometimes I wonder if the reason why so many of those who came before me in my family were unhappy because they were, in essence, artistic souls looking for validation in a world that valued different things: knowledge, financial success, institutions, religion, and conforming to the expectations of others.

As a young girl, I was often lost in daydreams and the illusions woven so carefully by others. Books and movies were not diversions, but vehicles of transport to the imaginings of the minds of other people like me. School and traditions kept me tethered to "normalcy," and because I was a dutiful girl, I played along.

And as the decades go by, that little girl and I, metaphorically speaking, are still pushing and pulling at this fabric of my self-identity and asking about where we should be going now.

... Set apart,
I am the music,
set apart
plumgirl: (maples)
I crossed the path of a black cat.
Through red leaves, I looked up at the deepening dark sky.
I inched through a tight space.
I climbed the stairs and breathed a crisp mouthful of air.
I came back inside and opened all my windows.
Then I sang, "LA LA, la la."

October 2010

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