For some random reason I decided to Google my full name today, and what I found was a blog post from 2008 from a MySpace page that was extremely short lived. The entire premise of what I was trying to do back then is what I have only recently succeeded in doing – getting back to my authentic, creative voice. I think it’s interesting/hilarious/insightful that it took me around four years to really come full circle with finding my way back to myself after years of journalism, years of being a critic, years of writing publicity and dare I say, years of lying?
This year, I began telling the truth through my writing. It’s been the most liberating, most freeing process I’ve ever truly committed myself to, and this blog stands testament to that. Sure, I’m publishing a form of journalism again, but this is the purest, truest, strongest form of journalism there is – it’s channeling that voice that we all sometimes like to hush, to suffocate, to completely run away from. It’s journalism for the sake of sharing and connecting as opposed to selling and promoting. (Not that selling and promoting your work is a bad thing, which is another HUGE area I’m working on. It’s WAY easier to promote other people, but when it comes time to promote YOURSELF, why do we always find ourselves silent, tongue-tied?)
That being said, I wanted to share this old blog to share, in one way, how far I’ve come, but in another way, how our personal truths will ALWAYS come forth and shine through and work their way out...It’s Just a Matter of Time ;-)
I think this is pretty fitting for my first blog.
The whole point of this page is to expand my writing past the journalist genre that I’ve been putting into practice…well…for a while now. Along the way, I seemed to have lost track of the creative writing pathways in my brain. I envision them musty and addled by cobwebbs.
This, I want to change.
Not only that, but the direction my life has taken thus far. The fear that wells up inside and threatens to ruin my very being every time I get too close to something I want. Something that would be good for me. Something that would make me truly happy.
Like writing. Writing makes me VERY happy. However, I seem to keep it on the back burner, rather than thrusting it into the creative and professional flame that burns right in front of me.
So things build up. Things you know you should take care of…like lame reports at your day job that you keep putting off because, well, you just don’t care. Fuck the numbers. Fuck the stats. You simply DO NOT care. And it’s not like you don’t want to do a good job, but there’s only so much one human being is capable of accomplishing (in the wide world of reports, that is).
So what’s the answer? Do a better job? Be more diligent? Yeah, clearly. But then again, a million other human androids can do your job, and probably more efficiently. Why? Because you’re NOT an android. You’re NOT a lemming. You’ve got A LOT more to give. You know that. They may not. But when has that ever mattered before? So why should it start mattering now?
Because we’re growing up, and all of a sudden the pressure to fit into that robotic, cookie-cutter mold is on, hotter than ever before. But that’s good, because now we’re pressured to REALLY do what we were made to do. To REALLY get off our asses and take a stand against what we were never meant to be. To REALLY become who we always knew we would. To FINALLY take life by the horns and get the fuck over ourselves.
And this writing space is yet another step in a succession of many towards that epic, but only, goal. Epiphanies come and go, and today marks the death and rebirth of yet another chapter in my life.
Jillian Kristina Locke, R.I.P.
Jillian Kristina Locke, Reborn.