truth

A good friend recently inspired me to be more truthful. To be naked. To be okay with it. And, while I am pretty sure the internet is no place to do that. Here, with you. I feel okay. Whether you come by frequently or this happens to be your first time. Whether you know me or have never met me it doesn’t matter. It is time for some truth.
I am terrible with punctuation. This may not come as a surprise to you as you read my blog. I pay no mind to common language faux pas. I fear though, I am unfit to teach undergraduate courses while I myself posses the grammatical skills of a seventh grader.
The only thing, until I found music, that I have ever been good at is writing and going to school. If you were here when I graduated college and watched me go traipsing around Europe “looking for myself” then you know what a tailspin I took after the structure of school was taken from me. I have spent the last three years preparing (I thought) for graduate school.
I was accepted as one of two students to Boise State University with a full ride into their Masters program to spend three years studying the craft of Fiction writing. I am terrified. So terrified I am afraid I wont go. Afraid even more so as you read this that you will judge me should I choose not to go. And yet, the truth.
I almost just deleted all of this. The truth. Right. Press on.
I am at the very core of myself a romantic and nostalgia junkie. I have never stopped loving anyone I at one point loved in my life. They keep a very special place within me and become recurring characters in my songs and stories and hopefully one day, novels. Yes, plural novels.
I have never in my life been faithful to anyone. (currently trying and I think I am on a streak.)
I have the tendency to say things that make me sound like the person I think I am or want to be but in reality I am an antisocial hermit who watches more movies than books I read. That’s a terrible thing for someone “like me” to admit.
I commit myself to so many projects and ventures that I never succeed at any one thing. Part musician, part journalist, part blogger, model, waitress, writer, lover. Parts and yet no whole.
What is my true definition of success?
What will quell this burning desire I have to be “someone.” Who?
So, then the question I have is: who am I? and what is it I want for myself?
While I may have some truth. I do not have the answers. problem is they want one.