“You made up for my life, celebrate it
Annotating, everything’s implied
And it grew, I just couldn’t decide
For all that I want, I’m dying to scale its side”

Sometimes it’s best to let the camera decide the point of an image and sort it out later.

This song, in true-to-form poetic disguise, defines me well. An unsure, tentative reaching for identity, and a desperate, almost silly need for self-importance apart from others.

I would so love to know what I’m going to end up as, or who I’ll be, or how much of the world will know my name. And yet, in that yearning, I find my inspiration to be more than I am. It’s what draws me forward and calls me into the unknown and the hopeful “yes, and”. “I’ve forgotten what I’m made of” but I’m dying to know it again, or even for the first time.

I’m pretty sure that the basic concept of “who I am” changes about every two years, which means I’m about due for a new reshuffle of identity and purpose, loves and hates, focus and vice. In high school, that change was from awkward loner to unsure artist. Then, in college from quiet artist to progressive wanderer. Now, at a new mark, I’m changing from wandering artist to something else. Poetic creator? Contemplative maker? Wandering gardener? I guess we’ll have to check in two years from now to see what happened.

I always want to know how things will turn out in life, but I know that ruins the fun of the journey.

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