The Lord Chronicle

Here it is. My second post. Bet you thought it'd never happen, didn't you? You probably thought I am one of those one-night-stand kind of bloggers (pardon the slightly inappropriate expression) who posts one time and never makes an appearance again, leaving you feeling a bit taken advantage of.

Well, I'm here to prove you wrong. I'm in this for the long haul.

(Side note: Where did that expression come from? If it has anything to do with fishing, then I'll retract my statement and replace it with "long term." I'm not a fishing fan)

I've been feeling lately (well, to be a little more accurate, I've felt this way for roughly the past 5 years of my life) that I am sort of like a human equivalent of Jell-o on a shiny, plastic plate...slipping and sliding all over the place as the plate is carried around in a crowded room. What I mean to say is, I'm not quite sure where I should be or what I should be doing. Should I stay nicely put in the middle of the plate or slide right off it and onto the shoe of the person next to me? This last scenario sounds dangerous, and yet it might be just what I need. No, not literally. I don't want to nosedive into a loafer - I want to try something big. I have friends who know exactly what they want to do in life and, in the process, are having amazing experiences. While they are out living their inspiring lives, I'm finding myself wishing I could join them, but unsure of how to do it. When is it my turn? When do I make the leap off the plate? Why do I just keep thinking about the million things I want to do and accomplish in life? Why don't I go further than that and actually start doing them? Maybe it's because there are about a million things I want to do, and I'm not sure which direction to go first.

As of right now, my next step is an audition in NYC for a professional musical theater summer program. It's less than one month away. I'm not nervous, but I am curious as to what the outcome will be. The rest of my summer kind of depends on it. What if I don't get in and end up splatting onto the floor in a gelatinous mess? What then?

(Another side note: I don't like Jell-o - it just makes for a helpful metaphor)

Well, that's the great thing about being such non-wielding substance. I may wiggle into different shapes, but that doesn't mean my life is over. In fact, that's an aspect of this life I love. As humans with free will, we are constantly evolving, learning and growing - changing shapes, if you will. Just because I haven't figured out what shape I'll be next, doesn't mean I'll stay in my present state (state of Missouri, state of mind, state of confusion, etc.) forever. It just means that I should have a blast in the meantime, gathering and receiving inspiration for whatever will happen next.

I. Am. Writing. A. Blog.

This seems incomprehensible to me. First of all, let me say that I am not one to jump on bandwagons. Or any kind of wagons, for that matter. The last time I remember being in a wagon, I thought to myself, "It is entirely too cold and this is a ridiculous amount of hay - why am I here?" And I proceeded to jump off of the wagon.

Doing things for the sake of popularity or conformity has never appealed to me. Thus, I have stayed away from creating/writing a blog as if it were some kind catching disease. I just have not had the time or desire to be taken down by the virtual equivalent of chicken pox. And yet, here I am...I have been exposed to the maddeningly spreading red dots, and they have started to pop up when I least expected. And the worst of all...I've started to scratch.

Let me be perfectly clear on this one point, however - I am not starting this blog because I want every one to read it and hang on my every word about the details of my days (although, I'm sure at some point, I will feel the need to vent through my keyboard). After reading a few random blogs over the past few months, I've realized it's a good way to spread my writer's wings (or fingers) and get some well-needed practice in. I like writing. It would be a fabulous realization of a dream to actually write about things I love (or would like to learn about) and support myself by doing this.

So, in an effort to become a better writer (and appease a few people who want to know more details of my somewhat uneventful life as I attempt to make it more eventful), here is my first post.

Doesn't scratching chicken pox leave scars? Sigh...what have I gotten myself into?