Creative, or Just Odd?

Tuesday, October 10, 2017

My mother always told me that I was creative, by which I think she meant peculiar. I couldn’t draw, paint, or dance very well. Lord help me, singing was not my strong suit either. Writing made my hand cramp, my arm forming the awkward spiral common to left-handed children everywhere. I liked to make sculptures but I wasn’t very good at that either, and I showed no real talent for…

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Imagining on an Epic Scale

Monday, October 9, 2017

When imbalanced brain chemicals send me into an anxious, self-doubting spiral, my beau generally says to me something along the lines of: “You have worlds inside you.” It’s his way of reminding me, when my brain is trying to tell vicious and defeating lies, that I am creative and passionate — and perhaps more importantly, that I have the ability to communicate those worlds to others. I think those worlds…

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