Hero

Let us start with a preface.
      I am not very eloquent when it comes to prose. I am not good at talking. I stumble over my words. I ramble. I struggle with getting my point across.
But give me a subject or a feeling, and allow me to write nonsensical poetry that evokes some kind of emotion and I'm all over it.
But I want to try something new. I want to tell you about myself. As hard as it is for me to do. Let's give this a shot. Here you go, cyberspace:

I am just a person. Who has a lot to her. Just like you. Just like the next person.
I believe in souls.
Laughing is important. As is crying.
Music is everything to me.
I collect music. I play guitar. I sing in the shower.
I have yet to find a doppelganger. I would like to have one. But alack, I have none.
I am strong. I am also weak.
I have severe anxiety and depression.
It has been with me through it all. A constant companion I didn't expect.
I hate talking about myself. I would rather talk about generalities that pertain to life and happiness.
I would rather listen than speak. I don't always ask questions.
This sometimes rubs people the wrong way.
I would rather sit quiet and listen to the way people speak and watch where their own train of thought leads them. I find it fascinating.
I remember things in different hues and colors. Ask me about it if you wish.
I aspire to be an artist.
But when people tell me that I am artist, I always disagree.
I respond with the phrase, "I pretend to be."

As much as I deny being an artist, the thing I simply cannot deny is the importance and the significant role that art has played in my life.  As far back as my little brain will allow me to remember, art has been there. I've grown up with a Grandfather as an art publisher, who constantly pushed me to create. He would buy my drawings from me for a dollar. At one point he bought one of my paintings for twenty bones. My parents have always had paints and paper, scissors and glue, and any other supplies I needed at my disposal to feed my creative hunger. And now I find myself, rounding my 21st year, reverting back to my childhood self. And it is true bliss. I love it all. The mess. The process. The struggle. The craft. The self-analysis. The meaning.

Upon discovering that I study art, the question I always find myself being asked is,
"What is your favorite thing to work with?" or "What is your favorite medium?"
        My response? Collage.
Upon hearing my response, I seem to always receive a quizzical look, or a feeling of unsettlement.
I think this is an answer that takes people aback. Collage is something everyone can do. Anyone can stick a bunch magazine clippings on a piece of paper and call it art. As much as I don't like to admit it, that social response made me question my own work as well. Why is my medium of choice is collage? For a long time I had no idea. I was simply drawn to it. I had the hardest time forming an explanation for my actions. But on my study abroad last summer, I was forced to bond my actions to explanation. And what I conjured up was this:
Every day we experience new things. We meet new people and we feel different emotions. We make decisions everyday that lead us to new opportunities. Each step we take, each word that falls from our lips molds us into something new. Something that we weren't ten minutes before. And those actions and events don't necessarily have to be monumental. They are small and simple things. Each one adds to the creation of a better human being. They mold and shape. They create anew.
And how does this relate? Collage, to me, is the exact same concept. You take random outside sources, photographs, paint, adhesive, ads, whatever you can think of. The limit of material that contributes to the final product does not exist. But they all contribute. They all add to creating something new and original. And as you piece them together, they create something beautiful. Everyday things contribute to our own, personal final product. To the betterment of our souls. Random "materials" contribute to that process that makes us into who we are. And that's the beauty I find in collage. It resonates so fiercely within me that we are shaped and changed by random people, places, feeling, actions, and events. We are all collages. Being masterfully crafted into something wonderful, by something greater, beyond our power. If we let the good in, and seek out the great, those things will mold us and change us into a masterpiece beyond our imaginations.

* Hero - Family of the Year