Candlestick Maker, Really?

So, I was walking by this playhouse in downtown Roswell, across from Soda, where I get my haircut. As I peered in the windows, observing the props and the stage director leading a rehearsal of some kind, I felt this twinge of excitement. Acting! 'That's something I could do,' I thought. 'What a great way to express yourself and to be anything you want to be....'

The week before I was going to be a pianist. The day before that, an aspiring seamstress. Another day, an art teacher, a baker, and tragically yes, a candlestick maker.

What I am getting at is the world is busting open, buttons popping out, cluttering my landscape. It's a beautiful thing, all those little dots, but I also feel a bit schizophrenic. Like a fireworks display gone mad.

I am not crazy, mind you, but I am trying to harness this creative energy. I suppose that's why I am writing to you. You are part of this, you know. Part of my creative process, a witness to the necessary taming of the horse.

What would you be, if you could be anything? I think back to high school. I was always too timid to write for the yearbook; instead, I did layout. In college, even though I took poetry classes, I never submitted a single poem to the literary magazine.

Maybe it's not too late for any of us.