Who am I?
I am a force of will dedicated to the pursuit of truth. Long harbored by institutions of academia, I collect books, tattoos, and fine objects from around the world. Born in Spain and traveling the world since before my first memories, I have adventure and wanderlust boiling in my blood. Born to Jay and Margaret Jaeger, I have many siblings and think about them daily. The call of wilderness pulses in my ears and so I now live in the Pacific Northwest, hoping to catch sight of the reclusive missing link.
Why do I create?
I find that I am often silenced by my own desire to get along. I am the ultimate peacekeeper. But I find that I am breaking out of that mold of myself. That I am learning to be louder. Realizing that I need to be true to myself more than I need to be quiet just so that other people can have their way of things. We all are sharing this place, we all can see what is happening.
I wonder about my own complicity in racism. I wonder about my own moments of bad translation, of hurting my friends in perpetuating stereotypes. I wonder about my role in creating a world that realizes justice.
We all have work to do and while the push of our efforts may seem slow and meaningless on the smaller scale, when we zoom out and look at pressure over time, we see the ability to carve tunnels out of mountains, handful by handful.
We, the fools, that see the world for what it is, walking through the deck until we find ourselves back where we started, are unable to have much voice as it falls on the ignorant deaf. It would not matter if your foot was on my throat because what I have to say is already stuck somewhere in the air.
I have the ability to yell on top of mountains. I should wish to have the same ability in my writing. In my art. I have the desire to make my world bigger and better. I have desire to express my voice in a stronger and stronger accent until it is distinct from those in the chorus. And yet I recognize the strength of the solo and the ability to blend back into the chorus once the voice has spoken its part.
I think about how writing is about bearing witness, or at least for me, witness to my racing thoughts, my childhood and adult traumas, my feelings, and my fears. Thank you for helping me bear witness.