IMG_7113.JPGI am a 25-year-old jumble of lovely words, songs, & pictures who can be found traipsing about the Columbus area. And this is my top-secret blog—which is only a secret because I do not tell anyone it exists & therefore no one knows they can find it, much less read it.

One time I overheard my mother call me her “mysterious child,” & so I blame her for all the years, primarily in my angst-y teens, that I believed I had some hyper-unique & unknowable soul; I would come home after school & insist I be left alone to my work—my writing, painting, guitar-playing, & general creative brooding. A lot has changed since then, but, then again, a lot has not.

With time & maturity, I learned that I do not, in fact, have some deep & twisted mind, I am not actually that difficult to know or figure out, & I am not some rare, tortured genius oppressed by intrusive authorities who “just don’t understand!” (Oh, teenage me). Turns out I have this thing that we call “being a creative.” Who knew?

I will admit: I do slip into my “I have a deep & twisted mind” coat every now & then; frankly, the idea of having some air of mystery is sexy & entertaining.

Anyway, as I am sure you must have guessed by me briefly mentioning that I painted in my youth, I’m an artist at heart, so bear with me:

I believe all art is born from a soul trying to make sense of, reflect, and/or interpret what God has already made to be perfect and beautiful, whether that is through writing, music, painting, dancing, sculpting, photography—anything. If it is pure art, I think of it, in a way, as an act of worship that God delights in with us. That is just the way it makes sense in my mind.

Also, I’m working on not taking myself too seriously.

I will tell you right now: I have no idea why you are reading this. Don’t get me wrong – I’m positively giddy that you somehow found me here & that you have read thus far (meaning that hopefully that you are at least partially interested in what goes on in my head), but, honestly, it baffles me that you are currently reading my words. Madness.

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