For me things become clear once I begin to write. It started when I had an assignment to write my own version of a poem we read in class. I was still Barbara. It was a simple assignment in which I decided to give life to the victim in the poem. His story in that one verse was wild with vivid reds of blood and kicks. His ego torn becuase he wants his killer to keep his Jordans fresh as he dies on the sidewalk. To me it was nothing, but it brought my teacher to tears. She told me I gave someone without a voice a chance to "sing". To me I felt I was being lazy not trying to think so hard of my own poem so I borrowed from the one in class and here I was sitting in class being told what I did was genious.
Not going to lie it felt good to be praised.
After that she told me I should practice more on poetry and free verse. I told her that I really couldnt, that my assignment was a cheat. But she continued and said those that speak a lot usually need someone to listen but sometimes that someone isnt there. So use the pen and paper to my advantage and let it flow. It doesnt even have to make sense. Thats the beauty of writing...the rewrite.
She also told me to take notice art is always borrowing from others. That was before I cared about being an artist in my field or actually taking a look at things.
I have been writing since, I have notebooks filled with random ramblings and thoughts. Stories and poems that reflect what I hope to one day place on the screen.
In this digital age its time I bring it to some attention. I dont know if anyone is actually going to read this, or read this and care. But this is for me to establish where Barbara has gone, and why Barbi is the persona people love.
I'm not schizo or bi-polar...just trying to find me in a world filled with broken promises and maybes. Limbo like Inception.
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