I’ve spent most my life as a people pleaser. Gag. Recently, I’ve started to see the insanity of it all, how the more you try to please other, the more you lose the sense of yourself. Suddenly, I can’t remember my favorite color, favorite book, best friend… where did I go? Now, I’m not trying to say that having a favorite color makes an authentic person. And sure, I’m all about blaming the people I try to please for my sudden lack of perceived identity which is probably unfair but that’s neither here nor there at the moment.
So, I’ve begun to develop a list of things I know:
- I am a crafter (hence the gingerbread cyclops). Forget shoes and hangbags people! If you want to go shopping with me we’ll be headed to JoAnn’s or Michael’s.
- If I had to choose a favorite color, I suppose I’d pick red but I find it oppressively restrictive to choose one out of millions.
- The book I couldn’t live without is the Bible but the reasons for that choice deserve their own blog rant so for this list I’ll pick Little Women. The first time I read Little Women I became Jo March and dissappeared into writing. I wrote my first “book” when I was in the third grade (it’s even bound and illustrated elementary school style). I have stacks of pages, story beginings, random scenes, outlines, research… but somehow I forgot how writing makes me feel. I think Little Women deserves a re-read.
One Thread That Winds 