The beginning of my blog journey

I grew up a writer.  I remember the scents of cinnamon hot chocolate, and hiding out on my twin sized bed, snuggling up to the latest new novel series: Little House of the Prairie, Anne of Green Gables, Nancy Drew...I couldn't get enough.  My mother would knock on my door, and when I wouldn't answer, she would abruptly walk in and scold me for reading.  "Janaki, you need to go out and ride your bike and play with the other kids in the neighborhood. Stop reading in your fantasy world."  But, I was an addict.  I couldn't put the book down.  I wanted to be the protagonist of the latest novel that I was reading.  I wanted something more than riding my bike down Highstone Drive, and living an ordinary life. There was a vision of the world that I gained through pen and prose, one that gave me hope. 

I penned multiple diaries, years before the concept of a computer and a blog existed.  When I read them now, I laugh at how a mere dentist appointment or fight with a friend via middle school seemed like the end of the world.  Reading those diaries gives me levity.  The ability to laugh at your intellect, your former existence.  I never was brave enough to share my thoughts with the rest of the world. Perhaps, because I realize that I think so differently than the norm.  After 32 years, I finally decided that the fear of failure as a writer stunts the ability to write and express oneself.  I'm due for a release on my soul, on my fingers, on the complex release of self expression.

As Joyce would say,

"The object of the artist is the creation of the beautiful. What the beautiful is is another question”

We all have our own versions of beauty, but I find beauty in the simplicity of language.  The beauty of language is that it brings us all together.  We can now explore love, loss, independence, and growth together.  Join me.