In leiu of actually telling you anything about myself:
Sometimes I think about all the music that isn't written yet. That someday someone will string together the notes of my new favorite song, and their music will change me just a little bit. Their art may redefine me, or clarify my definition of myself. It will cause something new to click in my brain, and the world will be sharper than it was before, more in focus.
Like the optomotrist scrolling through lenses, the right combination will be hit upon and I'll learn the secrets held in the smallest line of print. It won't matter if they're just a jumble of meaningless letters. I'll know, and that will matter.
Sometimes I think about the paintings unpainted, still disassembled. Still locked away in tubes of pigment, waiting to be put to canvas. Or all the textile creations that are still just thread, a bolt of fabric and an idea - a plot, a plan.
I think about the words that haven't been linked together, the stories that have yet to be told and the books yet to be written. Maybe I'll be the one who learns the secrets of those words and strings them together. I will tell the world something, and it will be changed just a little bit.
It will be snapped into focus just a little bit clearer.
The world is awesome, and overflowing with possibility.
My life is all possibility and choices. Everything is within my reach.
These are my tales of reaching and over-reaching.
