I’m Anita

Genesis I'm Anita Noted in Nashville

I’m Anita.  If you believe everything you read in yearbooks, like the one I’m seen signing in this picture, this eighth-grade version of me is sweet, sweet, sweet, nice, pretty, a great friend, a good listener, sweet, sweet, and a wonderful singer.  If you believe my favorite middle school English teacher Mrs. King, I’m also a good writer.

In the high school and college years to come, Mrs. King’s opinion was shared by other English and writing teachers.  I wrote.  I wrote to please my teachers.   I wrote because I was asked to for a grade.  My focus, however, was music.  I was a singer.  This was my identity, my obsession, and my future.  It’s perplexing that it never occurred to me to combine these two pleasures until I was in my mid-twenties.  No one had asked me to, and I’m a bit of a rule-follower.  I thought song-writing was for, well, I didn’t know who wrote songs . . . radio fairies maybe.

When I moved to the Nashville area in 2005, I did it for the music.  I called myself a song-writer by then, but not without wincing.  I was going through a “major life change”.  This is what I used to tell people until I realized that everyone knew this was code for divorce, or “D-I-V-O-R-C-E” as one of my friends used to say in a whisper.  This was the year my life really began.  I fell in love with Tennessee that year, and I fell in love with the best song-writer I’ve ever known.

I’ve been a private voice and piano teacher for, perhaps, too long because you know what they say about those who teach.  (Nothing but a misconception that I’ve allowed, over time,  to become true.)  This is why I began this blog.  I’m here, cyberly speaking, to do.

I’m probably not as sweet as the girl in the above picture.  I’m definitely not as thin, and I haven’t tucked in my shirt since 1996.  I hope I’m a better writer.  Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two from this site, but please don’t take offense when I say I don’t care.  I do care that you enjoy it.  But I have a feeling I’ll be doing most of the learning this time, and maybe even proving Mrs. King right.


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Me, me, me. Blah, blah, blah. Tell me a little about you.

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