Welcome to my website, reader! I’m not sure what brought you here, but I hope you stay a while. This particular writing is the first in what I plan to be many, both fact and fiction, that have been central in my life’s narrative (as well as come colorful imaginings and artistic ramblings that resonate within.) I can’t guarantee there will be a rhyme or a reason to all of my future writings and posts – I imagine it will be ever evolving for a bit with the common thread being me and my experiences. BUT in the meantime, if you find something that resonates with you, tickles your fancy, tickles your funny bone, or makes you reflect in some way, please like and leave a comment beneath it. Or just say hi!
Do you remember the first book you learned to read? Mine was “The Poky Little Puppy,” one of several books in the Little Golden Books series. I don’t really recall the premise of the book, but I remember that once I learned how to read that book it wasn’t long until I was devouring every book I could get my hands on. Books led me to create the worlds I was reading about in my head, allowing myself to inhabit them in my imagination. Reading facilitated the curation of my creative brain with new material and fed my growing imagination, helping to satiate my curiosity of the world as a child.
As I got older, there was a time when reading became a bit more of a drudgery. When the requirements thrust upon me by standard education, extra-curricular activities, and a desire to be a little more social in my adolescence, as I believe is fairly common in our society, led me away from reading for pleasure. I was kept busy elsewhere for the better part of my middle school and high school experience. Plus, all of the reading that came with school tended to be books that were not chosen by me and therefore “not as fun to read.”
Despite this time of my life where I shunned reading in general, I still loved to go to bookstores and hunt for books that piqued my interest; books that I wanted to read for the sake of reading. Walking into a bookstore always felt warm and inviting. To this day, when I enter a bookstore, I can’t help but marvel at the rows and rows of books, wondering just what knowledge, wordsmithing, and imagination lies behind the covers bearing names of authors known and unknown to me. I can spend hours looking at magazines, whose easy-to-digest writings are typically accompanied by rich photography – helping to transport readers visually into the world they are talking about. Then there are all of the non-periodical writings on any number of subjects that are just as delectable to consume.
The short of it is that reading other people’s stories always gets my own creative juices flowing. Whether it’s fiction or non-fiction, books allow me to enter the world (real or imagined) through someone else’s eyes and perspective. They stoke my own creative fires, make me wonder how I would tell my own stories, how I would shape my own commentaries I have on the world and cultures as filtered through my perspective and experience.
I will partially credit books and the imagination that they gave me to the life that I have built for myself thus far. Books spurred my desire to travel, to see exotic places, to experience other cultures, and to deep dive into the experiences that life can offer if you are brave enough to adventure into the unknown. In just over a decade’s time, I’ve lived overseas, performed all over the world, been to every continent except South America and Antarctica (I’m mad about the South America one…I want to go so bad!), visited at least 55 countries, met some truly amazing humans, had some truly wild experiences, and have generally not had enough time to truly digest and synthesize it all.
Some of the most formative and life-changing of those adventures came to an end and not once did I have the chance to sit down with someone and say “let me tell you about my year abroad” or “can I take you on a journey through my life for the past few months via the pictures I took and tell you my stories?” Not that I needed to expound and reflect in a masturbatory way to my parents or friends about my experiences. But to truly incorporate them into my psyche, to truly make the most of them in my daily life and my creative life, I think some sort of reflection is necessary.
About this, I will also say that as a writer, performing artist, creative producer, and storyteller, I believe it is important to cultivate moments and experiences in life that lead to great stories and serve to fuel the imagination. My plug to you to do something out of the ordinary today (or tomorrow) and maybe step out of your comfort zone.
Naturally, as time went on, I began to take some of my experiences and write my own stories down. The stories that stuck vividly with me through the years; stories of heartbreak and of complete joy; stories that helped to define the adult Patrick; stories that were funny or ironic; stories that will forever be etched on my heart and in my brain. Some of them have led to other writings of mine – fictional writings – or ideas for plays, shows, performance art, etc.
But what good is a story if it isn’t shared?
So here I am. Sharing with you, the reader, my stories. A portion of my soul. I will try and be as uncensored and honest as possible. I plan to dig deep. I hope that stepping into my world and my imagination does something positive for you. I hope you can find ways to relate to me, despite our different journeys. If you are inspired to travel, to tell your own stories, to examine your life a little deeper, to adventure more, or just to read more and maybe giggle a little, then I am glad. If you just want to be a voyeur into my life and join me on this creative experiment – I will also be glad.
All are welcome. Buckle up!
I aim to post every Monday and Friday, so keep an eye open!