So it begins...

I have always had a love-hate relationship with words. The writing process feels so private, so intimate. But then again, we have bastardized it to the point that the process is exposed for all to see, comment, and worst of all, track changes on.

I write in my professional world. But more often, I edit. I edit with red pen. It's a terrible thing to do, and yet- I find it helps me find the clarity needed to edit objective. To edit, to change, and to interrupt the work product of a colleague and sometimes a friend. A secret- sometimes, if the person has been particularly good to me, I'll search for a different color pen. It feels less offensive.

Throughout graduate school, and in my professional life- writing has been stripped of its magic. Where it was once an escape, a solution, and a voice- it has become a vehicle, a mechanism and a tool.

So this is an attempt to reclaim a lost voice. An attempt to put it all in one place. No matter how connected we have become because of the internet- I feel like I've lost the art. Not going to lie, Pinterest scares me. It feels like a huge commitment. Facebook? We can all admit that relationship is unhealthy, and overly exhibitionist. The only thing worse? Twitter. Not a solution to world hunger. It is just not.

So here we go. Here I go. To try and reclaim a lost love, and some pieces of myself along the way.