| Influences |
Me?
I write about life, death, love, and everything in between. Heartbreak, sunshine, funerals, new shoes, bad hair days, injustice, toilet paper--or lack thereof, joy, lost keys, Pepsi, Skittles, brothers, Mom's advice, good friends and family, running late, kiwi, kisses on Dagget Road, dressing rooms, Ramen Noodles. They are like photographs that stay stuck in my head for better or for worse. Some days I think it’s a curse. Other days I feel blessed.
It is perplexing to me how these pieces of everything I see, hear, and feel eventually spill out of me and land as ink. I stare at the blank page and search my mind for a way to make the photographs fit as words. Sometimes the answers just come, sparked by emotion and land deftly on the page. But most of the time the words come, not pretty like a puzzle, but more like a collage. Collectively they hope to say something important, meaningful, memorable. I stick them together using glue, a stapler, and some luck.
Do I do this to escape? It’s plausible. I lead a very ordinary life. Right now, I work a 9 to 5 job in addition to writing, recording and performing, which means I’m your average financially challenged artist. I love the people in my life, even if we sometimes drive each other crazy. I tend to laugh rather than cry. They say laughter is good for you. I don’t know who they are, but I hope they are right. I always try to do the right thing, though sometimes right is hard to define. I am emotional but tend not to express myself outwardly in an overly dramatic way, unless of course I am singing--that’s when my emotions are raw and unchained.
I like to think it's more than mere escape. I like to think it is because I love to connect with others in a way I couldn’t otherwise connect with them in my everyday life. Music drives those photographs, those memories that are stuck in my head, down to my heart where I can feel them beating. Thump thump, thump. For a few minutes we communicate as one, the storyteller and the listener…life is good. Then the song ends, and I feel compelled to share again. I need to. I want to. For you, for me. I won’t drag you kicking and screaming, but I hope to drag you nevertheless.
Thanks for listening.
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