Friday, September 4, 2009

Love...


I can't draw. Not even a stick figure. I sing all the time, but I'll never sign a record deal. Play- dough remains a lump on my table no matter how I mold it and though dancing speaks to my soul in a way that words can't describe, the last time I took the stage, I was twelve years old.


I consider myself an artistic person. I have a deep and reverent love for all things creative and I think that my ineptitude in the previously mentioned departments is the reason why I write. I was talking to one of my dear friends the other day about this emotional roller-coaster of a journey we're on and she said... "Let's be the ones who see this to the end. Let's not be the ones who quit after a few months or a few years..." Of course, I agreed right away. But why? Why was I so quick to agree? Why was there no pause, no moment of thought to weigh the pros and cons of what I was about to agree to? Why such faith in my response?


Dancing really does speak to my soul. When music and body movement come together to convey an emotion, an idea, a story, my chest swells with emotion. I cry. Literally. I think that dance is one of the most beautiful things in the world. I dance in my kitchen, I wiggle in my car seat, I sway and move without even knowing that I do it. I feel the same way about writing. It sort-of plugs the hole that nothing else in my life can fill. If you asked my family, they might say that writing is the only love of my life, but that's simply not true. After not writing for so many years, I guess you could say I'm in that teenage stage. You know the one, the first-boyfriend stage where he's all you think about, he consumes your thoughts and all of your time. Sort of like a new love. Writing isn't the only thing that makes me feel whole, but it's the creative outlet that I need to make me feel like I'm following a path, that the ebb and flow of my life is right where it's supposed to be. That I'm where I'm supposed to be.


Writing is my art. The keyboard is my paintbrush and my fingers are my legs moving to the beat. The words are my lump of clay and pallet of color. The white screen is my canvas. I won't ever have an exhibit in the Louvre, and American Idol can count me out next season. I'll watch the dancers from the audience and the play-dough can just be what I squeeze to relieve stress. My pencil sketches notes rather than still-life and even though my words haven't found the public stage yet, I'm going to see this to the end. I won't be the one who quits.

8 comments:

Abby said...

I love the way you described it as the all-consuming teenage stage. I think that's where I'm at too. Great post!

T. Anne said...

Well written! I agree, writing is your art and the canvas is so big and so wide. Aren't we lucky to fill it?

Sharla said...

Absolutely! And if that post was a painting, you could hang it on your wall! That was very artfully done!! :)

My husband is very supportive of my writing...but in kind of a limited way. He's all for it as long as it's not encroaching on his time with me or while we're watching a movie he wants me to pay attention to...etc.

So my family knows it's important to me, but probably won't really get it until I get agented/published. Notice I said "until" and not "unless"! LOL

ElanaJ said...

You are so much like me! I cry at dancing, music, art, all of it. You'll see this through to the end, I'm sure of it. :0

Angie said...

What a great post and so beautifully written. You've inspired me today!

Suzanne said...

I love you. It is your art. And you are an artist, and we will never stop.

christine said...

Well said, Amanda!

Mandy's Life After 30 said...

I followed you from "Tales of Extraordinary Ordinaryness" because you have my same name (Well my actual given name is just simply Mandy). And I'm so glad I did. I loved this post. The way you detail your current stage of writing is how I feel as well. I spent years avoiding writing, feeling uninspired. And this year, I gained my confidence and my dancing groove if you will. Now I read and write every day and it's such a beautiful, liberating feeling. It's so great to hear others going through what I am too. Thanks. I'll be following you now.