The word coincidence was made up by a coward.  By someone who was afraid of what they did not understand, simply because it could not be seen or felt by him.  So, he keyed the term, and others followed like the sheep that they are, and the sheep that they always will be.

I am in a state of hyper-conscious activity.  Whatever creative thorn that was digging into my side, blocking this state, has been lifted, and my creativity has not only returned, but imploded.  My entire body feels weightless and relieved.  It only took the grave finality (immortalized on film) of a piece of literature that saved me from my insecurities, my "demons," and my doubts in my abilities.  Any apprehensive feelings towards my knowledge of the unknown and my mission on this plane have been forever lifted.  As I watched the portrayal of the deaths of my favorite characters, my childhood transgressions and anxieties were released.  The bonds holding down my creativity and restraining my consciousness broke apart and perished, as Lord Voldemort's face finally did... face first, mind you.

The camera angles, the color palettes, the sharp picture and the bold, chisled faces of the characters I've held almost as dearly and closely as my own... it mesmerized me and took me into a new state of creativity.  The scene transitions were captivating, the soundtrack spot-on with an impeccably captured mood.  They also seemed to single out the eyes of every character.  The whites were extra-white.  The pupils were the darkest black I've ever seen.  The 3-D was not over-played... it was carefully done.  You were there.  You were not at a game of dodgeball.  This film was not one to be taken lightly, not one to be "played with."

It is not a coincidence that all of this happened during a rather large, bright full moon.
It is not a coincidence that Lord Voldemort was always hit in the face first, throughout the series.
It is not a coincidence that I was expecting a package today via USPS.  It did not arrive; in fact, I received the wrong package entirely and had to deliver it to the neighbors across the street.  However, as I was driving home tonight, I kept thinking to myself... That package will be on the doorstep when I get home... someone will have found it and will return it to me.  Sure enough, when I reached the top of the stairs, there it was, waiting.
It is not a coincidence that I am still awake right now, working up the courage to open that package, plug in my laptop, and see the work that I haven't seen in months.
It is NOT a coincidence that I definitely know that I will be able to continue it after it has been viewed.  Not edited, just viewed.  As if to confirm that it wasn't all a dream.

I am meant to begin my own journey to my destination tonight.

My own "Harry Potter 7."  My finished stage of work.

After all this time?  Always.

KtMc

I had a friend in the 2nd grade.  This friend, whom I would most likely call my best friend that year (until she moved, as most small children do), was a strange character.  Of course, I was a strange character.  However, not as strange as her... we had a mutual understanding of sorts.  It worked.  Plus, I felt slightly sorry for this lowly soul... I suppose if one were to put it positively, one would say that I saw the beauty in others.  Really, though, I was new and she had cool hair and cool toys... and she talked to me.  That equaled instant buddies in grade school.

We rebelled together.  We would sneak our own toys onto the playground and commence with semi-normal merriment.  She used to randomly belt out into opera-like song.  Pretty sure she told me once that she wrote her own opera, and that it was going to be a hit.  Yeah, can you see where this is going yet?  Well, I remember her telling me once that she was going to be the sexiest woman in the world one day.  She was going to be a stahhhhh.  She was going to grow up to be the most beautiful, sexy thing alive.  Yes, I am nearly quoting this naive little soul.  The arrogant little shit was going to be a multi-millionaire, and I would be nothing.  Figures, right?  No wonder I hate children...

Needless to say, that didn't happen.

We grew up, I continued to have that image in my head of her standing over me, 6-foot-3 and on a runway in the Gods know where.  Well, I ended up looking her up on Facebook a little over ten years later.  I didn't know her anymore, obviously, but turns out she had no room to be an arrogant little shit anymore.  She had put on a good 150 pounds and developed acne and a vision problem.  I had actually grown up, and her dreams fell rather flat.  I wondered why.  I felt like I was "chosen" or something... it was such a surreal feeling. 

Do I feel some sort of satisfaction from it?  Well, yeah, she was an arrogant little shit!!  I've covered this!!  However, I wondered how things had ended up so totally different.  I was going to either be a vet or an FBI agent... both of which involved a certain amount of stealth, whether it be Witness Protection or just being a downright nobody.  Now, I have big dreams and a big manuscript.  Both of which are scattered about the universe (well, the span of two states... close enough).  I realize now that it's the strength of mind that put me past all of that.  You need an awkward phase first, otherwise you turn ugly inside and out later.  Well, damn, I had years and years of awkward.  Let's bring on the new chapter!

KtMc

Why is it that people are so intimidated by words?  Why are people... especially young people... so afraid of them?  That, or they simply could give two shits less... hmm... well, it doesn't work that way, I'm afraid.  Words influence every aspect of our lives, the good and the bad.  They can cause both ecstatic and adverse reactions in people; that's what makes them so beautiful and so powerful.

The words of fantasy amaze me the most.  Being able to take one completely away from her world, only by words, is astounding.  I've been taken away from my own head more times than I can count, and believe me, it's very difficult to return, no matter how happy my life may be at that particular time.  It's simply so easy for me to be carried away... maybe it's just a writer thing, or someone with an imaginative mind.

You know, there are days when my head is so completely full of ideas that it just will not shut up.  I'll be lying in bed, and scenes and dialogue and names, one right after another, will zip completely around my head.  I'll force myself to write it down or type it out as quickly as I can, but some of the ideas slip by as quickly as they appear.  Although, they are my thoughts, and I have come to realize that they will return another day.  It's just not time for those particular ideas to completely resurface yet; they're not strong enough, but one day they will be.  And I'll be here when they do.

I'm not crazy, and I'm not acting through any sort of diety.  It's just the way a writer's mind operates.  It's a writer thing, I suppose.

Words are powerful.

KtMc