April 2, 2010

After the introduction, I’ve decided that this blog will incorporate many facets of my life, which will soon be totally immersed in my bouncing bundle of breast milk. Some entries may be wrought with self-discoveries and revelations of myself to myself, but others may just be about whatever happens to cross my mind that day. One of the reasons I was weary of blogging at first, although many people had prodded me to begin one, had to do with my tendency to be inconsistent with some things. I’ve been known to take up something with such gusto as if it were my life’s only goal and then find something new and more interesting a month later.

Since I could first hold a pencil, I’ve been a writer. My grandma (we’ll call her Sylvie from here on out) would buy me multi-colored spiral notebooks to help me learn my colors and give me somewhere to write down all of the delicious thoughts that found their way into my head. I was known for being a very precocious child with a wild imagination and a mouth that never seemed to stop running. I always had a story and if there were enough ears around to listen (I only needed two), I would tell it. Eventually everyone got tired of me trying to lambaste their ears, so they would always say, “Danielle go write your story in your book.” For hours, I would sit bent over in a corner or at the kitchen table while Sylvie made some outstanding meal and pour my heart into my latest adventure. Sometimes there were princesses and dragons, but I mostly wrote about things I wanted to happen, putting my fantasies onto paper and hoping they would someday come true.

I even kept a journal for a short time, but that ceased as soon as my mother found it and read it, driving a large proverbial nail into the coffin of our relationship. I felt ridiculously betrayed, as if someone had gone through my underwear drawer and  thrown all of them in the middle of the street, exposing the elastic that had begun to unravel at the thighs of Monday’s pink frilly ones. As I grew older and became increasingly preoccupied with my life, whatever I thought it to be, writing was more for academic purposes than anything else, and I vowed to never keep my thoughts written someplace where other people could see them.  When facebook came about and gave me a way to connect with people and spew my genius/nonsense in the form of notes and status updates, I posted some poetry that got a lot of good reviews. One in particular, “Good Hair,” was published in the spring literary magazine at Temple University and I read it at a few venues to great applause and compliments.

Thinking about how good it felt to share a piece of myself with others and have them appreciate it as powerful words was more than I could have asked for, since anyone who considers themselves a serious poet/writer injects a bit of themselves into every piece they write (contest me on that one, if you wish).

I’ve said all of this to say that as I update this blog, I will reveal some things about myself that you may or may not have known (or even want to know for that matter). I will be honest with myself and with you, and all I ask is that you do the same. If you don’t agree with what I say, that’s nice. Have  a cookie and make it chocolate chip.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. LaNeshe
    Apr 05, 2010 @ 13:06:57

    Welcome to the word of blogging!

    Reply

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