Tequila shots & cigars all around... today is my 500th post on this blog.
I never would have thought, 500 posts ago, that my little Gypsy Camp here on the web would mean so much to me. I never thought it would mean anything at all to anyone else. But here we are, huh? I remember the excitement of picking the colors, putting up the first picture of my artwork, and typing the first few lines, then seeing the whole thing up and running. "Nifty," I thought, and closely followed with the words from Do Re Mi, "But it doesn't mean anything!" "So we put in words...mmm... like this..."
From then on, I couldn't have stopped the words if I had wanted to. All those words saved me, they formed a rope that pulled me from the quicksand of my life. They made me feel alive, in an existential, "I'm writing, therefore I must be" sort of way. Since then, much like what Ken was talking about yesterday in his post at Mildly Creative, this blog has become the mortar that holds all my bricks and broken shards together. It's helped me rebuild into something wonderful. I couldn't have made it to where I am today without it, and my life will never be the same because of it.
Oddly enough, along the way, people have gathered to peer through the leaves into the Gypsy Camp. Slowly they've gotten comfortable enough to pull up a log and sit by the fire. They've laughed and cried right along with me as I've told my stories, ranted, cursed, sang, babbled, inspired, bantered, and what have you. They've made all the difference, because, as Brandi Carlile mentions in The Story, "...these stories don't mean anything, when you've got no one to tell them to..."
I didn't foresee that Black Ink Pad would become what it's become. I had no vision for it back in November 2007. I was merely a sad, lonely Gypsy who had stumbled off of - nay, been thrown from - the path, reaching out blindly for a rock to hold onto. I never thought, as I climbed my way over the treacherous cliffs and back to the path, that I would find this peaceful meadow, that I would make friends, that the friendships I had would deepen, that I'd find a home here - a place to rest the weary bones of my life.
So, thank you, my dear readers, for making this Gypsy's campfire a little brighter and a whole lot warmer. Without you, it would be just another piece of wilderness.