Here I Am, For Real

On selfies, tarot spreads, and showing more of the face behind the words

So, I’ve been thinking a lot about faces lately. Not just the ones we show to the world, but also the ones we hide, as well as the ones that slip out in quiet moments when we think no one’s really looking.

Yesterday was Seth's birthday, and we had a little Lord of the Rings fire pit party planned. I wanted to clean up a little bit out back, get things ready, and maybe cut some flowers for a table centerpiece before it got too late in the day. 

I also spontaneously decided it was a good opportunity to brush out my hair, put on some simple makeup, and maybe snap a quick selfie or two. (It had been a while.) 

So I did that and shared one of the selfies across my social media platforms, just for a little something different. Nothing super staged, just me as I was on a sunny Saturday afternoon, pro "pineapple on pizza" t-shirt, sigil rings, and all. People loved it, as it had been a while since I'd really shared anything raw, behind the scenes, or completely unfiltered.

That, combined with how far back a Facebook friend recently had to dig into my timeline to find real pictures of me, made me realize I need to share more of this. Not because mysticism, myth-making, art, and creativity somehow aren’t real (because they absolutely are), but because even the best creative content can start to feel disembodied if I never anchor them back to the ordinary human face that’s living them into existence.

So this is me floating some of the same energy into my long-form writing spaces, tea in hand, freckles and shadows intact.

Faces Matter

Something I've noticed over my many years as a ghostwriter, copywriter, and essay writer of all stripes (and have been reminded of). People don’t truly fall in love with content. They fall in love with the people and stories behind it.

The articles, the images, the mystical fragments — those things might absolutely draw someone in who's never been to your world before, but what keeps them watching is ultimately the human heartbeat underneath it all. When I share my writing or my artwork without ever showing the person creating it, I imagine it can start to feel like it came from nowhere, like my voice is floating at people from out of a void instead of from another human.

The truth is, most of us want to know who’s behind the words. We want to see the face that laughs at its own bad jokes, the hands that shuffle the cards, the eyes that have cried through the lessons someone is now writing about. That’s what makes it real and keeps it relatable.

So showing my own face here for the first time in a while, freckles and all, is my way of saying, "Yes, the things I write about are real, but so am I." I'll do my best to make it a regular thing moving forward.

On Emotional Honesty, Priorities, and Being True to One's Self

It always seems that the more I have on the agenda for work on a given day, the more I actually feel like writing something of my own instead. A blog entry, usually, or a bunch of shorter social media updates... but occasionally a snippet of a longer story, a piece of flash fiction, or a poem. Usually, I react to those thoughts the way I was taught to -- by telling myself I need to get "the important stuff" out of the way first and then if I have time later on, I can spend what's left of my energy doing things I actually want to do.

The trouble with that approach to writing is that nothing expressive or passionate ever actually gets written. There's always something else to do that "needs" to get done or that society would label as more important. By the time I get to the point in my day when I'm out of things to do, it's the wee hours of the morning and I'm exhausted, not only physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. The last thing I want to do at that point is write some more.

In fact, I'm constantly wondering if maybe that "work first, play later" is actually the wrong approach. For me, anyway. It certainly feels like the wrong one. One of these days, maybe I'll learn that it's OK to be someone that makes decisions based on how they feel and not how good they look on paper or how many of the right people sign off on them. When I just allow myself to give the first hour or two of my writing day to something that I'd actually like to write, I don't resent having to work as much as I normally do. I resent the need to earn money less, since it no longer encroaches upon my self expression.

On Obstacles and Goals for 2013

Wow, I can't believe that yet another year has been and gone. This realization never seems to get easier to deal with for some reason. I'm sure I'm not alone in this, but I always tend to look back on the year in review, feel like I didn't accomplish very much, and wonder where the hell all the time went. How could I have been as busy as I was -- and really, I'm always busy -- yet not feel like I made any real progress?

Occasionally, it occurs to me that I'm probably keeping myself busy focusing on the wrong things and that's why I feel the way I do around New Year's every year. I always fall into a very well-defined trap, especially professionally. I start feeling like the best way to gain the sense of accomplishment and well being I want most is to focus on earning more money. Money -- at least in theory -- buys you choices, freedom, and wiggle room. I feel like people need more of those things in order to feel happier and to have more time to pursue their real dreams and goals. However, the process of earning money takes up the lion's share of your time and energy, so ironically you never actually get what you were after in the first place.

That's totally what happened to me this year. I wanted to earn more money so that I could afford more and I did that. I was able to pay my bills more easily, as well as pay for a lot of things that my loved ones and I needed. However, I didn't accomplish any of the things that were the most important to me. I wanted to try to reclaim my creativity at least a little bit this year and produce at least two or three pieces I felt were good enough to send out to some publications I have my eye on. I also wanted to get off the computer at least somewhat regularly, get out more, eat out more, go to more local events, and make some memories.

Summer Musings and Some Photos

Monterey Scottish Games and Celtic Festival 2012

It's a curious thing, getting older. Especially when it comes to things like the passing of the seasons. I remember when I was a kid, summers -- or any season, for that matter -- seemed positively endless. Now that I'm older, I get what my parents and the adults I knew in general meant when they talked about the way things would change as I aged. "One day, time will just start spinning by and you won't have a clue what happened."

Me as I looked on July 7th of this year.

OK, yes. I get it now. I'll be 37 years old on my next birthday  and at this point weeks, months, or even years fly by like they're on speed or something. It's easy for me to lose track of time, especially since I am so terribly busy these days. I've never sought to be a busy person, per se, as I've always preferred it when life moves at a leisurely pace. However, I suppose this is something else that just happens when you're an adult.

Somehow, I did find myself with a serious relationship, a family, and something that really does look an awful lot like a career the way that everyone else did. I love it despite the fact that it still feels as if I'm a child who is merely playing at being an adult... but it keeps me busy and it keeps outside of my own head a lot. I'm not sure that's always the best thing for me as a writer and an artist, but it is what it is. I'm still very much in the process of making adjustments there.