This is my first post here. To be honest, I don't even know why I'm here, or what I'm doing, or what I'm supposed to do. This is me, being me, as raw as I can be. Do you ever feel like you can't truly be you, ever? I mean, in this world of over-saturation of media, both produced by companies and individuals. With YouTube, and Twitter, and Blogs, and Insta, and a tone of other things... too many, if you ask me. How are we meant to keep up with that? We possibly can't. Right?

There is a basic formula we’re all taught growing up. The formula to being happy, healthy, stable, and successful. The formula seems pretty simply to follow, you work hard, earn money, save enough to retire, create stability, so you can live your dreams, and in essence have a happy life. But for some of us, this formula isn’t so clear cut. What if following your dreams provides errored data? What if working hard isn’t enough to retire? How can one formula work for a diverse range of people, and what happens when you break away from this?

I'd like to say that I decided to write just as a passion, as a way to spend my spare time, to learn a new skill. But, the truth is, that's not the case. I started writing as a therapy to myself. This became my way to make sense of what I was feeling—as a way to cope, to put my struggles behind me.

So I have a dream, a dream to show my art to the world, big, vibrant, complex! I like to make complex pieces, that are brightly illuminated, and are fantastical, cosmic, "surreal"...

The eyes weren’t perfect so he smoothed them away. The javelin, a spear aimed at the fearful remained the only thing that seemed right. It stood there frozen in the thrower’s hand like a shaft of liberty. The body of the man neared perfection. Each muscle and tendon told a tale of exercising, manipulating the physical form all through the power of the mind. Every line meant something. The thighs meant lower body strength that would sustain the thrower in his moment of truth. The onyx pestered him. It bothered him. He wanted to slice at the eyes, blinding the sculpture. This was May of 1928 in Wilmington, Delaware, and the heat began to drive the sculptor to even greater heights. Despite the intense hotness, he worked until the project was up to his standards. Upton Colmes sweated great beads that seemed like translucent beetles scaling down from his forehead. The work had meant to him that he would be able to free himself from the bondage of inertia. In his mind, he viewed any signs of lethargy as giving in, giving up too quickly. His black skin glistened with each and every touch of the electric bulbs in his studio.

Artists and Craftspeople love Beauty. Beauty may manifest as colorful, dramatic, whimsical, provocative, clever, or even just damned adorable. Very few of us set out to make Ugly. Consequently, our Facebook posts and Tweets, Pinterest pins and Instagram accounts show only the brightest, shiniest facets of our creative lives, and end up tending to look like the carefully-collaged “dream-boards” of fifteen year-old girls; all of the glitter none of the grit.

Hello and happy day! This is a past-post, something I wrote when I, "worked for the man"… that’s what I call trading my time for someone else’s vision. I have "worked for the man" at times when it seemed I couldn’t do anything else. The wolf who knocks at the door is relentless. When the debt to income ratio was off-balance and I felt hopeless about my Creating Happy vision, I would commit myself to finding a great job with the lessons I needed, while being of service. This is my account of the last time and hopefully, the last time I will "work for the man!"

I am not the greatest artist out there, but I do like to think I am good enough to be seen and appreciated. I am not institute educated, or have a degree in my art, but this is me. (I am a self-taught artist.) And maybe my art isn't to everyone's taste, but I do work hard at creating the picture. I create a story with my drawings.

I have had arguments and debates with other fellow Actors behind the scenes about Method Acting. Method Acting was the first style of Acting I picked up freshman in college. I read books from Stella Adler to Uta Hagen. As I grasp certain methods and teachings, I come to find myself grasping the idea of Methods, but I just felt it wasn't a natural or genuine process. Then I came to fully understand the concept of it; what Method acting to me is. A system to construct an emotional foundation built within your personal experiences to develop a character, or yourself.

Q: Who are you?

Whenever I show off my self-published book (either with a physical contributor's copy, or by showing a screenshot of the book on sale through Barnes and Noble), people will tell me how great the book cover is. And I would smile and think to myself: Yep! I can not only write, but also draw!

What happens when we stop and close our eyes? Do we see what is to come, what has already occurred, or what we hope to achieve? Do we achieve a higher sense of purpose?