Path of Self-Discovery

 I've been called a Renaissance man a time or two. No, I'm not boasting of some inflated sense of creativity or ability, but I will admit that I lean a bit towards the creative side, as most of you can tell from the countless entries I've made on this tip. But, if I were to be brutally honest with, and about myself, I don't know how to draw. Seriously, the last sketch I ever made was when I was nine and even then, it looked like it had been drawn by a chicken that had suffered a stroke half way through. Granted, such a comparison would be mean considering my age at the time, but nonetheless, I could not draw back then & I can not draw now. And if I were to continue in my candor, I would say that one of the primary reasons I stuck with writing was because I couldn't draw worth a damn.
 I'm sure most of you are probably wondering why I'm starting an entry on such a self-deprecating note, but as I've assured you all in the past, there is a method to my madness.
 I recently received a package in the mail, courtesy of my beloved parents. The package in question were a series of newspaper clippings that I had saved from my past. And while going over them, I couldn't help but feel both a sense of nostalgia and accomplishment. Nostalgia because there are times when I do miss being published (pardon the ego), but also because I see these as an accomplishment, but not because it has allowed me to create my own little bit of immortality through print. Since I'm sure most of you are wondering what I'm talking about, I will continue.
 As I mentioned earlier, I was never very good at drawing. And not just that. Coloring was a nightmare, connecting the dots were simply too much of a bother for me and even my handwriting was deplorable. In fact, a teacher has once described it as "the handiwork of a disabled troll" (what a way to boost a child self esteem). But, more than that, I wasn't very good at writing, or rather I wasn't very good at reading. As a child, I had a reading problem. No, I didn't have dyslexia nor was I plagued with a learning disability of some kind. I simply needed extra tutoring in that regard. Seeing that I was in need of extra help, I received it, through a most unlikely source. While I will not go through the details of said help, I will say that I will forever be grateful for it, for had it not been for the aforementioned help, I would probably still have the reading ability of a child, which would be most unattractive, not to mention a hindrance in the grand scheme of things.
 However, even after this assistance, my love for writing had gone unnoticed, namely due to the fact that, as a child, I had the attention span of a hummingbird and reading and writing wasn't high on my list of priorities. But that soon changed.
 Y'know, I once heard that the the best love songs in the world aren't about the guy getting the girl. Instead, they are about the guy NOT getting the girl. Though this may sound depressing, it does make quite a bit of sense. This was something I discovered through experience, though I will admit, they were painful experiences.

 After moving with my family to a new place, a new home, I was left with no real outlet for expression and venting. While in the course of studying for a test in the middle of the library, I was struck with an overwhelming stream of thought that I simply had to expel. Through that, I decided to simply jot down a few notes. One line became two, two became four and before I know it, I had written nearly three pages of thoughts, all in rhyming fashion, all in barely legible handwriting. I discovered poetry, albeit through less than romantic means. And this poetry is what I used on a daily basis through most of my formative years, often leaving little notes for certain young ladies that I found to be attractive. Amazing how, despite the eloquence of my words, they rarely understood or appreciated them.
 Fast forward several years later, to a young college graduate who has stood before the world and wondered what to do. After securing employment at a publication, I began to write. And while it was of a restrictive nature, I found the outlet to be most appeasing to the beast within, allowing me to both do my job and vent. And from there, I have been able to dabble in other publications and what have you, all which led me to this, my own piece of cyber paradise in which I hold domain.
 Now, if I were to be asked what is the point of this entry, I suppose it would be acknowledgement. I've spent many years writing, for myself and for others, that I rarely gave a thought to how bless I am that I have the capability to do so. I've been stopped by so many people all asking me how I do it. And while I have simply given them barely applicable advice, I can honestly say that I am simply motivated to do so. Perhaps I have a message, perhaps I have a cause, perhaps I just enjoy seeing my own words immortalized. Be that as it may, I must confess that writing has given me a pleasure that I haven't found else where.
 So, in the end, this entry is simply a message of gratitude to the powers that be. Thank you for allowing me to do this. While this most probably sounds self serving and vain, I acknowledge that I have something special. And I intent to use it to the fullest.

 In the end, we are all bestowed gifts that will serve us in life. This is mine. And I am truly grateful for it.