So just write something...

I started this blog as a means of renewing my lifelong interest in writing. I can recall doing little 2-4 page stories in 3rd grade while I waited for my classmates to complete assigned work. I was always swift with completing assignments; creative writing made for a quiet, still student to my teacher Mrs. Logan.

My love for writing continued through Junior High School but somewhere in the Sr. High days my skills laxed. I did not take the time to write anything more than what was assigned. Instead I would gladly sit alongside an older student named Brent Zirnheld as he developed his stories and novel ideas. I recall throwing out silly scenarios and character names for spoofs. But that was where it ended for me. When Brent graduated, the yearbook included his Senior will. Though I can not quote it completely, he said something along the lines of "I will to Jamie Davis the ability to use his writing and creative skill. You've got it buddy so use it." I was stunned and humbled. I proceeded to enroll in an Independant Study class my Senior Year - Creative Writing. I wrote nothing. I considered no viable ideas. I lost a bit of my skill and style. I ceased writing...

I ceased writing until late 1994. I was living in TN. I had dropped out of college and decided to learn how to live as an independent, strong-spined man. I was between jobs. And on the day after Christmas I sat in my apartment alone. It was chilly because I had to keep the furnace temperature down to maintain ease of bill payment. My roommates were actual students at the local university and would not return for another 10 days. It was just me, the TV and my thoughts. Jamie meet Depression. Depression this scrawny, bewildered little bitch is Jamie.

I picked up a journal that someone had gifted me in the previous years; it was empty. I was depressed. And the only thing on TV was Dead Poets' Society. Pen meet Paper. Depression can be incindiary. I discovered that my self loathing, disappointment, loneliness and pain made for some really powerful strings of words - poetry. I filled that journal and then I bought another. My mind became stronger; my confidence improved; I found gainful employment. My writing became less. The journals kept being purchased year on year. And the ink on the pages became less and less.

I have written increasingly less (for my own personal pleasure) in the last decade. I fell flat on butt in love. I married. I have been granted a wonderful life complete with support, affection, income. I feel warm inside and happy most every minute of every day. And I have no idea what to say or what to write. My skill is weakened; my poetic bursts are nearly extinct. The bursts are like the polar bear, giant panda and the manatee.

I recently promised Lisa a 5000 word composition on anything that I wanted. I made this promise in preparation for my trip to India in September. I carried home pages of little notes about my experiences while there. I noted little things about my colleagues with whom I traveled. I took pictures; I noted colors and smells. I have done nothing more.

This blog (all 12 entries though weeks and weeks have passed since it's creation) is my sole enterprise for creative outlet. Yet very little is ever presented that is genuinely creative. My blips of thought are typically pragmatic not creative. It's commentary and not witty prose. It's a reminder of what I am missing so dearly - a genuine creative bonfire.