I've occasionally thought that "second wind" was an illusion that people created, something that one could only obtain after consuming excess amounts of caffeinated beverages. It seemed elusive to me and yet, tonight, the kind of night where I don't have anything special to be awake for, I have found this second wind. Minutes ago I was crashed on my bed, cell phone in hand, messaging someone dear to me who lives in a time zone so different that my night is his morning, and now, I am awake, fully, typing away at this here blog, with only the sound of the cold rain against the windows and this post's title's song playing in the room.
...yeah. In case you hadn't caught it yet, the titles of almost all my posts are song lyrics. Basically whatever song I've been listening to on loop that day. If you're interested, today's is "Set Fire to the Third Bar" by Snow Patrol feat. Martha Wainwright. You're welcome.
So my current favourite song is playing against one of my favourite sounds. I love the rain. Really. Cold, warm, summer, spring, fall, there's something about the rain that makes me smile- maybe it's the artist in my soul that enjoys how everything looks when it's dripping moisture from the sky, or maybe it's the romantic in me who wants to stand in the pouring rain and kiss that someone special, a la The Notebook (how absurdly uncreative of me...). I don't know what it is, but when it rains, I smile.
And when it rains, I feel like writing.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about my writing. Part of the reason I got into blogging, really, was to get myself back into writing; I wrote in high school like it was my job, as I suppose so many angst-ridden pubescents are wont to do. And then I lost it; I spent four years being academic and writing the papers they told me to write and reading the books they told me to read and being too busy to do a lot else that I lost my writing. I let it slip, I let it slide, I let it go, and in a way, I let a part of me slip, slide, go...I lost a piece of who I was.
That's so not okay.
One of the sweetest, brightest people I've ever known said something to me last night that's had me thinking ever since. She looked at me over our entirely-too-crisp-and-golden, artery-clogging-over-salted McD's fries and said, "You know, you're going to be successful in academics, if that's what you want to do. But I think you have something more, something creative and artsy, to give to the world". (DISCLAIMER: I may have misquoted that, because nobody's memory is perfect, but that was the essence of where she was going with it. So forgive me, mademoiselle, when you read this if what I've said is incorrect).
I haven't been able to get that out of my head. I've spent four long years being Jmart: the Academic that in some ways, I lost Jmart: the Artist. More and more, people who matter to me have been telling me that I need to write- a book, a play, poetry, whatever- and I think it's really starting to stick. Writing used to be who I was, and I let that piece of me die during my undergrad.
So here I am, reclaiming and reviving that bit of who I am. I'm bringing her back, Jmart the Artist. I've got a year off to do the things I want to do, and in this exploration, I'm going to find her, refine her, bring her back, so that I can once again be whole.
Or as close to it as I'm ever going to be.
...That wedding dress rant is still on it's way.
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