Once upon a time I was a helpless, full-time wannabe. Growing up in the rural suburbs of a dull city, all I could think about was ways to escape, and not until I was done with university and finished my first round of Julia Cameron's "The Artist's Way" could I leap beyond the fields those idiots surrounding me back then knew. I tore the chrysalis, spread my wings and flew away. I finally found a place I was not ashamed of calling home. That was back in 2005. My real life had finally just began, and it all happened within that year--including meeting the man I married.
I began this blog. I took classes, I experimented, I explored, I exploded, I was hired, I was fired, I was hired again, I got lost, I got found, I was told lies, I learned how to tell a fabulous story, I learned the truth about myself and the Universe, I had the best sex of my life during that year. I made more real friends within 6 months than over the first 20 years of my fucking life. I loved till I bled. Then I dipped my fingertips in the blood, and painted beautiful things on the ground I stood, and wrote poetry on the walls bordering the way. I walked in Beauty, and I recorded the stories I had to tell.
Then, instead of growing roots, I decided to move forward. I moved to Spain. Now there was no doubt I was totally out of the fishtank. I was a foreigner, I could barely speak the language, I made people laugh unintentionally. Best part is, I met a million others like me. A whole online social network of us. I was exhilarated, and I didn't want the fairytale to end.
And then I got sidetracked. I can only assume it happened when I decided that instead of exploring brand new creative possibilities, I wanted to deepen in what I was paying off more beautifully. So I acquired my fourth and fifth languages, travelled further out into the North and East, became a queer tanguero, learned a million new recipes till I could cook the perfect veggie meal. And resolved to get a paid day job. And dumped music. And writing. No wonder after all this time I look around and cannot see my creative work, other than a very creative life I've been living.
I do not complain, but this Autumn I got many people from that magical year come back to the spotlight of my online social life... One is published. The other is talking about the process of being published. The other just silently shines a little light from the other side of the planet, and the light shines all the way through to me. And the São Paulo gang, one by one, is slowly gathering on my Google+ Friends circle.
After six years, all I have to show for is what I have lived. The memories. The stories I have to tell, but have not told so far.
Are you willing to listen?