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So much I want to talk about, but never quite sure how to put the words together. I just read a blog that reminded me that it's time to really think about what I need to do to prepare for my future. So what is it? writing? photogrophy?, I used to get told that I had a lot of potential in both fields before I started to just stopped attending classes. Do I really need class to be a writer, probably not I continue to write pieces relentlessly every night, its almost harder not to write than it is to write. I mean I could always go take literature classes and creative writing classes, but I dont think I could stick with all the grammer lessons, since usually I just seek out word play, turn of phrases, and characterization. I always thought if your characters where compelling and complex they would write your story for you.

So what brought this on. I was going through a draw with notebooks full of scattered prose, lyrics and concepts and I am just trying to organize them into something that maybe could produce some kind of cash flow.I always get to self concious when it comes to things, I write.

Wow this turned into a huge rant.

Here is a random piece I found on a disc some where.

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Her hands start to cramp and she starts to panic. She tries hard to get her message across but it won't come out. Falling back on the floor she closes her laptop, not believing what she has just witnessed. She takes in another breathe and paces the room. What was wrong with her? Was she going to be stuck like this forever?

A spark of fire, to re kindle the use of her hands, as her arms scrape a wrench, she becomes to loose and needs repair. Unknown of the events that have taken place, a phone is answered with of course I will come look out for you. I will be right there. Lights parked outside slant in a new direction and the world turns to me and says you're screwed. It can only be one of two things and the first one doesn't usually bring on this sort of reaction to the glow of the screens. In a haze stairs are climbed and confessions are made. The whole time she's thinking she is crazy and that her friend now thinks so too. She pushes herself through the web to find out what's on the other side.

Before she knows it's the next day and things come back to her, she stills feel a bit off, and bit turned on. Searching for answers she returns to the scene of the crime, and bares witness and testifies on behalf of the actions the courts have passed on her. She offers a plea and a new solution. They tell her she is free to go but something is wrong. Every little thing she encounters is affecting her as she tries to understand who she is and what she has done. The glow still remains and she is changing. It's time to call in her secret weapon. She sends a letter back home to mother; your child needs you fast. She is fading out to sea, where the eagles have spread their wings and taking flight.

Words chime in, as she is called the one thing she has since come to hate. Her hands model the ones of the night before as she tries to help find a cure to put out the flames that surround her, She wants out of this hell and if she has to side with the devil she was going to return to the way she has always been. She starts to see the light up ahead. Her guardian angels have pulled together, and bring her back. She knows deep down that these two will always mean the world to her. There is a bound there that she would never dare to break away from

She sits down and thinks to herself time to become who she has always been and rises from the ash