Oh, blog how I have missed you! In the past year since I stopped posting everyday I have become complacent in my writing. I don't see that as a bad thing, sometimes I burn myself out, but then it is times like these that I feel the need to get back into writing everyday because it has always been a part of who I am. If you look in my closet there are notebooks, diaries, folders filled with paper covered in words. Some of those words tell a story, some of those words make no sense to a stranger, and some of those words are my soul making itself heard. My life from my first diary entry, when I was seven, dated May 20, 1984, said it all, "Today I made my first holy communion. I looked like a bride. It was a good day. I will write tomorrow. Tara" For the first few years of those diary entries, I wrote them as letters. The next entry is still one of my favorites. It is a story in which I write a letter home because I am at summer camp and my brother gets kidnapped and I figure out how he was kidnapped. It isn't a very exciting entry, but my brother was "brave and horoic" and I "kept my cool and knew exactly how to save him". I have no idea how I saved him, or how to spell heroic, but I filled a full page with words that excited me for a moment and made me feel as if I had a purpose.
Words, stories, history, life experiences have always excited me. I always want to know how someone got to be who they are, by their experiences. I like to hear the words they choose to describe themselves and the stories that they feel define the person they are. I know that is my favorite part about being an actor, figuring out how this character became this person. What is it that makes them who they are? How does a character describe themselves? Over the decades I have changed my description of myself, but one word has never changed and that is hopeful! It may be naivete or delusion this hope I hold onto, but I firmly believe that life can't always be as disappointing as it is. There has to be something better, if not for me, for someone else. I have to believe that dreams come true, or I wouldn't be where I am. I have to believe that I have a shot at being the "Tara" I write about. Maybe if I keep writing about this "Tara" I envision she will become real. A lot of people call me romantic or in my own little world. I write because I have to, it calms me, it puts everything into perspective, it heals me, it lifts me up. I write for the pure joy of it, even when I am pulling out my hair trying to figure out the word that would best describe something.
Is this my true purpose? To write? I don't want to commit to that possibility. It scares me. I don't feel as if I could be as creative as some of the greats out there. Maybe books aren't my forte. Maybe I can do human interest pieces on strangers, but how does one go about such a thing? How does an idea take flight and become something totally unexpected and fruitful? This is where my feelings of hope pop up. I am not one to force things to happen, I feel as if I lose something of myself when I do that. I have learned to do things that feel right for me, that just because I want something badly doesn't mean that I will do anything to get it. I like my dignity. When I write I don't expect anything to come of it. When I do put the pressure on myself to write a script or a play I dry up quickly. I have to psych myself out and tell myself that nothing will come of it and then all of a sudden I have ideas flowing and my fingers hurt from typing. It is a very strange game I play with myself, but it works.
So with a little trepidation I have decided to write everyday again on this blog. I don't know what will come out of it, but I hope that you will follow me on my journey and enjoy the crazy that sometimes comes out of me. It should be an interesting ride that I HOPE is everything I've imagined.
All my love,