Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Words on a page are the same as a pencil sketch; limited in their scope of being understood, or worse, misinterpreted. One must use adjectives, more words, to view shadows and highlights, just as more pencil or charcoal enhances, or defines the sketch.
In my case I have always used photos to do what I've not had the capability of doing with words. I am not a word-usage descriptive, accomplished writer. I am a wordy artist. And as I sat writing away on a recent children's story I realized how inadequate I truly am at mastering adult composition; mastering the adult mindset. The children's stories always come easy because I still remember what it's like to be a child. My nieces and nephews tell me they enjoy my stories because: "Aunt D, it's like you're a child writing about a child." Yet my child-like ways have hurt me within this internet sphere of "meeting other adults and thinking they want to play."
If I am confused it is only because I live in a world few live in. I have a disability that extends to mental, emotional and physical arenas. I have done nothing to become this way. I took some prescribed medications given for 4 years and those were the disabling bullets that took the life I knew but cannot get back. Things will never be the same... and some days it’s not all bad. During those years of medicated torment I saw things you could not in your wildest imagination see or conceive. I saw, felt, touched, heard, and acknowledged a world of existence you have no idea is even there and eventually I arrived at a place so full of light and peace; I wanted to stay but purpose had me return to this place, where now, only my subconscious remembers what it is I returned to do.