Determination.

Long before I knew what the word blog meant, I wrote in a journal. I still remember my first one and insults I would write about my brothers in it. 

While I do not pour out my deepest feelings and thoughts into my blog, I consider it my alternate form of my personal expression... consequently my journal has suffered. 

In a hazy, concrete summer, I have found it hard to become inspired in any way in my life. Usually this is an area that I excel in, it frequently comes and goes but lately its been more going than coming. Here in my favorite place in the world, my sunroom, rain pouring through the Elms outside I have reinvented myself. I have promised to stay up the whole night and just do the things I have wanted to do since May.

Blog more than random pictures, write in my journal, and rediscover my life through my room filled with it. 

I read every article in the new Vogue, scoured the pictures and felt connected to my creativity.

I read one of the blogs I frequent, a girl who I consider to be the best in blogging business, and she wrote that she was having doubts about why started a blog. I was so surprised to see this confident, fashion fatale so insecure about the impact she has had. It made me think of the same question, why do I do this when it could really mean nothing? It is the question I often ask myself and it is usually my motivation for not posting for another day...week or longer. 

Then as I sat here, wishing I could write the way the vogue staff and writers do, look like Gwyneth Paltrow on the cover, and wear the clothes in the editorial, I realized that in the smallest way my blog is my personal Vogue. It is my own growth through style and writing, and it is my hobby that makes me happy. I blog when on days like this when I am inspired and I blog when I am happy, in no way is it a self promotion or job. Just simply a hobby that gives me joy and helps me grow to maybe one day write as exquisitely as the greats I admire. 

My blog is my own way to look like the girls in the editorials and resemble Gwen, and when I see the pictures of myself that my friends or sister and I take between giggles, I feel beautiful. Not for anyone else but me. 

Long were the days where I was only an athlete or the "funny girl". Long were the days of self preservation in fear of failure or hurt. 

So, heres to what I want. (To secure my goals, I must publish them publicly) 

- Write a book.

- Host a TV show. 

- Star in a movie. 

- Have a "sunroom" where I can watch the rain, where ever I am living. 

So, let it rain, then the sun wake me from my writing as I sit on my floor, stuck to the hardwood.