Name: Kim Tracy Prince
Web Site: http://www.kimtracyprince.com/about-me/
Bio: I am a writer. Most of my material is on the web, but the best stuff is still in my journal under the bed.
Posts by ktprince:
I have a secret, is what this picture says. I’m not going to tell you. I’m going to keep it in here and let it sparkle in my eye, and amuse me, and be the thing that makes me feel special even when I am overwhelmed, or terrified, or insecure, or intimidated.
The secret is that the photographer is very talented, and whatever she said made me make that face.
I like that face.
She took the photo in Costa Rica last month, at the very end of the ROAR Retreat that I attended as a great pilgrimage after all these years of redefinition. You can see it in my eyes, in my skin, in my hairstyle, even what I’m wearing. That gaping triangle of skin on my chest? Never in my real life, but given the courage and abandon I felt in Playa Conchal? Absolutely.
After 4 days of indulging in my every whim – cocktail, Senora? Yes please. Need a ride to your room? Si, senor. Kick my shoes off and swim in the body-temperature ocean? Outta my way. – I was feeling young/old. Adventurous, in touch, brimming with words and emotion. Living.
It’s been two weeks since I left Costa Rica. I have sat at my computer staring at the screen, looking at photos, reading other recaps and viewing others’ photos of our experience that was at once so communal and yet individual, unable to wrangle the words into line in a way that makes you understand what happened to me there. And so I haven’t been able to share it with you.
But this picture.
It’s the closest I get to this:
photo by Jonathan Carroll
…which is how I see myself on the inside. I’ve never really let her out, have I?
That’s the secret.
This is the view from my seat at Nibbana, a restaurant and bar in Tamarindo, Costa Rica. The manager was such a lovely host. He just about convinced me to purchase a piece of land and email Stewart to say “Get on a plane, boys. We’re moving.”
That was at the end of day 1. We had some sessions where we talked about business and blogging and creativity. The next morning, we continued those conversations…on a catamaran and in the ocean.
The pictures of ME jumping in are in someone else’s camera.
Last night we watched this sunset from a seat at the swim-up bar in the infinity pool at Club Mar Vista in Playa Flamingo.
Today has been similarly inspiring. The surroundings are breathtaking, and the feeling inside my head and heart is nothing short of soaring. I am so grateful for this experience.
Today marks the tenth anniversary of the day I published my first post on houseofprince.blogspot.com, which became this site. I have since published over 2,000 posts and countless others for my secret blog, my hyperlocal blog, my friends’ and colleagues’ blogs, and articles for my freelance gigs. A plethora of words.
But I always come back here, to this patch of space. It is my most consistent project I have kept up, the longest commitment to a creative work in my life. It’s the longest time I’ve done anything besides be married to my husband.
In spring of 2005, as I finished decorating the nursery, I mused:
I often stand back and try to imagine what it will look like with a crib and a baby in it, and wonder if the baby will like it. What if he gets to be four years old and tells me “mommy, I hate this color”? Will I be heartbroken thinking of all the work I put into painting the room, or will I hate the color by then, too?
The baby grew into a boy and now he is on the far edge of puberty – he is thick, tall, solid. Yesterday I was putting sunscreen on him at the beach and noted how it no longer felt like putting sunscreen on my little boy. “Why don’t you try doing this yourself,” I offered. But he still needs me. He is only 9.
The Jig Is Up
Yet last week at school, goofing off instead of working on a project, Kyle Googled his name, and up popped the blog with pictures of him fresh from the womb. I gave up his anonymity on the internet long ago – in fact, I never considered preserving it for a second, nor for myself, or Brady, or even my husband. They have unwittingly come along with me into our virtual home on the internet where I have shared too much at times, perhaps, but always just enough to keep me sane. Time will tell if it was worth it.
Kyle was pleased to know that his – our – stories are on the internet and that people have read them. These are raw, real stories straight from the heart where readers, especially myself reading from the future, have witnessed my growth from a determined, intentional young producer ready to tackle her next project: (“Parenthood! Your call time is 3AM.”) – to a shocked, sleep-deprived new mother, to a brand spokesperson, to a cranky veteran, to a professional writer, and back again, to myself.
Return To Me
Overall this blog has told the story of my evolution as a person. It is here that I found myself, truly. I grew up. I finally identified myself, and for my nature, which craves definition and at least the illusion of control, that knowledge is comforting. Click anywhere in these archives, and you will find me: I’m a stay at home mom, a fangirl, a social media junkie, a music lover, a working mother, an advice columnist, a party planner, a chef, an editor, a spokesperson, a comedian, a worried daughter, a grieving friend. I am one of these. I am all of these. I am none of these.
I think of this blog as my legacy now. If I took the site down, cached pages would still exist. Scraped content is out there somewhere, maybe not attributed to me, but they are my words nonetheless. The videos I’ve made, the articles I’ve written, the pictures others have taken of me, that’s all out there, the digital ghost of my real life.
There’s no use taking it down, starting a new site, reinventing. But I have indeed decided to change it.
The creative life: without it I am just another mother in a house making lunches. With it I am a superhero, a rock star, a poet.
It seems very fitting that next week, in the midst of an incredibly busy time for my family, I am taking an epic break from my life. I am going to Costa Rica for 8 days, ostensibly to attend a social media retreat, but then extending my stay for quality time with my friend in an exotic location, a departure from my normal, a salve for my wanderlust which has suffered quietly in the corner in a closet as I go about my suburban, provincial, necessary life.
It’s an exclamation point at the end of an accidental 10-year epic. The closing of a volume in my life’s body of work.
And a resetting. I’m not putting too much pressure on myself, but I do intend to come away from the experience with renewed purpose for my creative life. After all, it is the one that fuels the mundane, makes it all bearable. Without it I would be just another mother in a house making lunches. With it I am a superhero, a rock star, a poet.
Long live the House of Prince, in whatever form it takes.
And thank you, whoever you are, for reading.