Once Upon a Time

when i was a little girl i had a maniacal love for everything bright and colorful. what had color, had meaning. and i exuded an unconditional happiness that far exceeded my awareness of the monsters of life. but when the years of adolescence reared their hideous heads, and when the affect of said years left me a sour, cynical and angry adult, i lost my love for all things luminous. or rather, i simply could not find anything that satisfied my inner eye. perhaps i lost the joyful little girl inside of me due to a decade (or more) of confusion, betrayal, and religious propaganda. it was a myriad of things, i suppose. and i could attempt to sit down and figure it all out, put the pieces together and finally proclaim "yes! this is why i am a fuck up!" but really, that would do nothing but make me even more angry and colorless. so rather than sitting in a frantic rage, going over every sour detail of my life, i will simply write. because writing has always seemed to help me make some kind of sense of my world, even if it makes sense to no one but myself. behold, this blog is an attempt to rekindle my love affair with the written word.