A new beginning.

I blame it on my mother. She was one of those moms that would always read her kid a bedtime story. She did all the different voices and everything. One of my earliest memories is laying in bed with her while she read the Sesame Street book, Which Witch is Which?, to me and I happened to laugh so hard that I had to run to the bathroom and puke in the bathtub. (I was scared of the toilet but that's a whole other story.)

Needless to say, we never read that book at bedtime again.

We surpassed picture books with simple sentences and mom began to read the Harry Potter books to me at bedtime, or she'd start to and then encourage me to finish them on my own. Soon I was beasting through all kinds of books and racking up AR points like a pro. In second grade my reading level was at the seventh grade level and my teachers could hardly get me to pay attention because "silent reading time" lasted all day for me. They should've left me alone too, because even though my vocabulary was a bit advanced for a second grader when the book closed I never shut up. 

I eventually realized that I could write my own stories. The earliest I started writing was in fifth grade and I actually finished my first novella in eighth grade. I was always writing. Poems, songs, stories... the scrap paper in my binders was always filled with something that my brain wouldn't let go of.

My creativity endured til eleventh grade when the immense workload of my A.P. classes pretty much squashed all of it. If I actually had time to sit down and write I didn't want to. My faith in myself as a writer was completely slaughtered with all of the C papers piling up in my Language Arts binder. I was a writer, not a freaking editor, but you don't get your own personal editor in high school. Especially when your classmates are hellbent on being better than you. 

Stripped of my creativity I found myself no longer wanted to read for pleasure, either. Too many research essays, too many unenjoyable books to be read before a deadline, too much crap. My brain no longer had room for creativity and I became apathetic to literature, whether it be reading it or writing it.

A few months ago I got a spark of inspiration from a dream; that being the first spark of inspiration since I graduated high school. So I'm currently, very slowly, writing a novel. As for this blog- it's for everything else in my brain.

Rants
Console game reviews
App reviews
TV reviews
Stories from work
Stories from childhood

Essentially anything I want it to be. Practice makes perfect and quite frankly I'm tired of being a shell of the once super creative being I once was. So come along with me and we'll find something, anything together.