Sometimes I just get the urge to write. About what, I have no clue. It comes about when I read. As my eyes pour over the words weaved by another, I have the urge to do the same. I’ve never been the creative type. To create something from nothing is quite difficult for me. I’m the appreciator. I know what to look for in good books, good music or good photography. While I possess none of the talent it takes to produce such things, my eyes can search out the key ingredients to make such wonderful art. I would love to be a photographer. To capture, on film, a moment in time that will never come again. To arrange a cornucopia (I love that word) of meaningless things and create a beautiful collage. I have my moments. The right angle, the right mood, the right model (mostly Whitney) all culminate into an amazing photo. Consistent awesomeness is not in my repertoire, as least not where photography is concerned.
Even though I wish I had the talent to write or take amazing pictures, I don’t. It’s taken me a while to accept that. It’s taken longer to appreciate the gifts God has given me.
I’ve grown to like the person God has made me and, sure, I’m not a music prodigy, picture taker extraordinaire, or in line for the next Pulitzer Prize, but I am who I am for a reason.
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