Just the Beginning

Many of you may not know this, some of you do, but I used to write A LOT. I was into politically infused poetry in college and was an avid journal writer but over the last few years, things changed. Now I can't even tell you where my journal is let alone the few small UCSB publications I used to cherish, probably in a box packed in Anza with the rest of my past. That storage unit that somehow turns into a black hole filled with old yearbooks, love letters, and the occasional half melted scented candle, still potent through years of dust and mildew. Memories of another time, another life, something so foreign I don't even recognize it except there's my name in big black sharpie staring at me, screaming "Yes this is you!".

Crap. I don't want to admit that I was once a love struck college student journaling about some guy who loved me and left me and blah blah blah. Or, maybe I do. Maybe that's the good stuff and maybe, just maybe it's a revelation to see how much I've changed and how much I am the same. So here it is, the stories of my life, the transition from a 3 year old ballerina in a chicken costume to the woman I am today. My little existence that to some is irrelevant but to me is everything.