“She can’t help it,” he said. “She’s got the soul of a poet and the emotional makeup of a junkyard dog.”
-Stephen King, Under the Dome
There is no denying that I’ve been wrenched into dark places, but most of my life has been a furiously bright ball of light. So it makes no sense that I have always lived to leer at the macabre like it’s my cloak-wielding brother, long-lost at birth. It seems that nature can and will dominate nurture.
Just as I think it; I want to write about everything. But my careful planning–the brain storms and scheming–have decided that passion nurtures nature. I think that in a few months or more at most this blog born of social ambition will still cater to all musings horror, down to the last vestige.
What you should know about me, if you want to know anything at all, are my penchants for poetry (my BFA gets creakier every year) and playing various symphonic instruments. That I will become a stooped older woman with a house comfort-full of cats. How deep affected by visual arts media I find myself, in front of a movie or a video game. The bizarre ways that anger motivates me to patience, and cheerfulness to catatonia.
Most of all that, whatever I end up piping on about, I would love to hear from you on each and every subject if you’ve something to say. Or another path to take.
*Unless noted in the post, all embedded/inserted media on this blog is of my own making. Those that aren’t are by friends and colleagues. If you like what you see, let me know!
*I intend to open invitations to my colleagues to share their thoughts on anything that comes into the amorphous scope of this blog, so please keep your eye out for guest writers!