i've been trying to log in to this site since last night. i wrote an introduction that i don't think posted...i guess i need to do another one. i've never blogged before. i didn't even know what it was until maybe a year ago. i feel a sense of rebirth as i sit here freewriting...providing liberation to the streams of words invading my consciousness. i wonder who reads this stuff. why would someone care to read my babbling thoughts? - although i must admit a part of me hopes someone does. i want to log in tomorrow and find a response to something i've said...

such thoughts suggest some aching desperation to be acknowledged ~ even by someone i've never met ~ in an attempt to affirm my presence.

but that's obviously bullshit.  rationally, i know that i exist - but i don't feel that existence as "reality."

i've read some of the postings and have been stirred and awoken by the intellectual irrational supportive familiar bizarre remarkable expressive words. i think being here will be good for me. after reading the mission of the icarus project i was shifted and finally i could unleash enough passion to paint. inspired by the exposure to a new, radical, and honest view of mental illness.  my experiences of living among the "intertwined threads of brilliance and madness" were transformed into a tangible vision that establishes reality and existence in a way that only paint, canvas, and color-stained fingertips can.

i suppose i'll introduce myself again...