In Two Parts

Part One:

Finally, a moment to myself where I can sit, sip my coffee and think.

A friend once said to me that she looked forward to final exams (or any other imposed deadline) because it ensure that her apartment would be clean. As I sit in front of a list of creative goals I’d like to accomplish in the coming weeks (long neglected goals, I might add), I find my mind wandering as I ponder entering a writing contest.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve had a problem calling myself anything other than strange. At a young age, I was encouraged to take art lessons and my mother would introduce me as ‘her daughter, the artist’. I would always squirm and wave off her title. Even when I was actually going to school for art, I would never refer to myself as an artist. Because I’m not. See.

And now I’m on the verge of my first full review and photos to appear in a really, real magazine. Yet, I can’t seem to call myself a writer. Go figure. I suppose it’s sort of my forever feeling of looking into the fishbowl, rather than being inside swimming around. Is it fear? I don’t know. Who cares right? It’s the act of doing it that matters almost as much as what you do.

I just don’t know.

What I do know, is that next weekend we are flying down to San Jose, renting a car and driving down Highway 1 to Big Sur. Henry Miller Library, here I come!

Part Two:

I saw Aqualung last week and it was fantastic! I love Matt’s voice, sort of Tom, sort of not. Listening to Strange and Beautiful as I type, a compilation of two albums released in the UK. The new Coldplay is out (in case you haven’t heard … doubtful). At first listen, I was unimpressed, however that’s the beauty of this band for me. The albums tend to sneak up on me and then imprint themselves on me wholly.

That’s really all on the Sonica front … for now.