One of my good friends and occasional travel buddy has started a new blog where he has already posted some hilarious stories. Reading them, plus the other blogs I read by people I actually know, got me thinking about my lack of writing talent. Yes, I got an A in Writing last summer, but that had more to do with me being able to spell, puncuate and construct sentences than my writing ability. Yes, I can tell a story or pontificate on an idea, but I usually end up saying more than I ever wanted to, and still not effectively getting my point across the way I'd imagined.
I don't usually see myself as being very creative, since I tend toward logic and order, but then I remember the obssession I had with "projects" when I was little, and how it has grown into a full fledged Quilting hobby that includes dabbling in other crafty things like jewelry making. My mother loves plants and gardening, my grandmother sews up a storm, and my middle sister has started making pillows and learning to sew, so it's certainly in my nature and my nurture. This is a good thing, since I am planning on minoring in Art.
I have a deep appreciation for sculpture, some kinds of art, architecture, landscapes and music. I love taking pictures, but they are more often of things as opposed to people. I don't cook at all, I bake very rarely, and I can't decorate my way out of a paper bag. My desk and living areas are chronically messy, but I do know where every last thing is, so that's a bonus.
Okay, gotta go celebrate a friend's birthday. More on "my most inner desires" later.