Hmm…so my ‘Pro-JECT’ is doing well. We’re still getting more recruits and creative people to help out. Someone’s making a video to send in and we have banners and avitars. It’s crazy how much we’re into this. We just need more people…

So anyway…

I really want to get back into writing. Not ‘blog’ writing or journals, but actual story telling. I haven’t done it in ages. Well, a few months, but that’s ages to me. All of these amazing words and sentences flowing through my head are just dying to be written down and heard, it’s just that every time i’m in front of paper they disappear. As if they were water in my hands or a breeze passing by. It’s depressing.

I’m trying to figure out this urge, too. Why do I want to do this all of a sudden? I haven’t bothered for such a long time (minus the creative writing class I took recently), so why now? A little voice told me last night: ‘You want to be heard.’ And a while later I realized that it was right. When we die, our voice dies and we are forgotten. Horrible people are remembered, regal people, and amazing people alike, but for someone destined to go nowhere-I will just sink into the ground silently, like a bug you never noticed. I don’t want that to happen.

Perhaps everyone goes through this stage. I wouldn’t doubt it. We all dream of fame and glory at some point, but the thing is, I could care less about money. I just someone to know me-to think of me and smile. I want to effect people the same way artists do. They give out everything in themselves and reach into people hearts. Thousands are saved by a tremor in a voice, a brush stroke, or a typed word. It’s a miracle, really. But why…why can’t I do that too? Why was I destined to be so boring and plain, when I want to help so much?

And another voice says: ‘Take what was given to you and make it better. Make it yours.’ And so I listen, and watch, and read-learning from the artists I admire until I find an opportunity. I want to make a difference. I want to help. And so I will.