Catching up on rants

Haven't written recently, been concentrating on the continued writing, editing and so forth of the fan fiction I've been writing for Daoc, Dark Age of Camelot. Loving it, the latest story is a real monster in size but has turned out quite well if my friend's opinions and feedback means anything. Which they do, their continued support and suggestions have been amazing. So I write for me, for them for us all.
Had to take a break from running the business for part of the faire season but that's okay. It's time much needed for other projects, time to reorganize and get back on track.
Try to channel my creative energies better and trying to continue to move forward with my artwork. Trying to get focused again. Boy is that ever easier said than done. The writing seems to be the one thing I've kept my teeth fairly solidly sunken into at this point in time. But my fingers are itching for the feel of pen and pencil, the sounds of the utensils against the paper and the smell of the incense and the outdoors. Headset on, music cranked and lost in my own world while the the hand flows across the paper. I like to have lots of fresh air and the smell of an indian incense mingling with it as I work.
There is something to the contrast between the smoke and the crisp air of autumn that bring out creative in me. It hits a note within.
I'm finding it easier however to channel my feelings, my emotions into creative endeavors. As a very dear friend explained to me, "your art is the key". She was so very right. Allowing myself, giving myself permission to be what I am, is the key.
As the saying goes, "To thine own-self be true". It is terribly hard to break out of the molds, one has imposed on oneself in the desperate attempt to fit in to others preconceived notions, that you should be, whether physical, emotional, spiritual or all of the above.
Having grown up with an older sister as a guardian and assistance from an elderly grandmother, my view on things is a bit different. It was an unconventional life in some ways. Mother dead at 45, I was 11 at the time, father died 7 years later, after having already abandoned the family. Said he couldn't handle my mother being terminally ill from cancer. Never saw him again, only had limited contact with his new wife, who told me he had passed away. Grown up too fast, childhood and circumstances that mature a person walked hand in hand. Mature in some ways, but still a child in others. Makes for a bit of an oddball combination as the years progressed/progress.
Once upon a time a dear friend pulled a card out of a tarot deck, handed it to me and said, "this card is you," it was the Hanged Man. A card of self-sacrifice, sometimes I think the Fool would have been a better one. I think of myself at times as the "Wise Fool".
Too trusting and skeptical at the same time, quite the juxtaposition.
I'm stern and soft hearted. I joke about being a doormat, but if someone steps on a friend, I'm the champion, the defender, ready to bear arms against wrong doings.
I will not hesitate, except when it comes to myself.
I have loved the unlovable, forgiven where others cannot and still I go on. I guess in a way I'm my own worst enemy. I find that I have a tolerance for things that amazes even me. I keep asking myself, when will enough be enough?
I find faith in the strangest of places.
I have it tattooed on my lower back, Keep Faith. It's a motto that I've followed for a long time. I cannot always fully understand or even explain the hows and the whys, only that I just do. Blind faith...walking out into the hand of God, leap of faith...
And so it goes, Keep Faith. :-)