The Queen of Kings!
Welcome to my world! I am Sarah King, and if you’ve made it this far, then congratulations—you’ve entered a space that’s a bit like stepping into a kaleidoscope of creativity, humour, and a touch of delightful insanity and fluffy chaos. But, hey, that’s me in a nutshell! (cashews, not walnuts cause they taste better).
Stepping through my looking glass of multiversal insanity and the parallel realities of wonderland.
Let me begin by unravelling the tangled tapestry of passions that shape who I am—a mosaic of quirks and contradictions, like stars that flicker in the void, casting light on a world too often cloaked in shadows. These quirks aren’t just eccentricities; they are the radiant sparks in the darkness, the cosmic flares that defy the coldness of the universe. I’ve learned to wield humour as both a shield and a balm, wrapping it around my scars like delicate gauze, not to deny the pain, but to protect the hearts of those around me. After all, as I once said a long time ago, “No one here is exactly what he appears,” and that has always held true for me. Behind every joke, every laugh, is a multiverse of emotion—hidden, yes, but ever-present.
And yet, I live my life like a free spirit and yet “We are dreamers, shapers, singers and makers“, and I a painter with a palette, each colour representing a different experience, a feeling, a memory. But like any artist, I know that a single misplaced stroke of a brush or a pen can disrupt the harmony, turning beauty into chaos. When the colorus bleed and blur, when the masterpiece of life is marred by pain or loss, it feels as though the meaning evaporates, like fading photographs that once captured moments of joy. These are the memories we cling to, but when they dim, what remains? Nothing but the void, the silence of space, echoing in its indifferent expanse.
Yet, as so wisely I taught, “We are star stuff. We are the universe made manifest, trying to figure itself out.” Even when everything feels ruined, when the canvas of life seems smeared beyond recognition, there is meaning—if only we dare to see it. Each mistake, each sorrow, is but a brushstroke in the larger picture, a part of the greater whole we cannot yet comprehend. The universe doesn’t forget us, even when we feel like we are no more than fleeting specks in its endless timeline. Time flows like a river, and while we may be a mere drop in its current, every drop creates ripples that touch everything around it.
In the grand expanse of time, where silence may seem to reign, there is always something more, something unseen and unheard. We are not blips, not forgotten fragments in a vast cosmos. We are echoes of the stars, fragments of eternity woven into the very fabric of existence. Even in the silence, even in the darkness, there is always light—hidden, perhaps, but always there. I once said, “The universe is a dangerous place, but in our time, we are powerful.” So, I hold onto that power, even when the world seems too vast and the colours of life too chaotic to make sense.
I am the painter, the comedian, the cosmic wanderer, and the warrior, all at once. My life may be a canvas streaked with unexpected twists of a brush or a pen, but I choose to see the beauty in every line, every shade, every hue. Even when the colours run and the memories fade, the essence remains—alive, vibrant, and part of something infinitely larger than myself.
Art, music, literature, food and imagination has been my language for as long as I can remember. Whether it’s through the wild swirls of acrylic paint, the pages of a book with a pen, the blackness of the kettle with the ingredients of flavours of the world or the snap of a camera capturing a moment that’s just a little more magical than real life, creating has always been my way of translating the world where I struggle everyday to fit in So lets dive in a bit more at the facets that make me who I am!
Acrylic Alchemy: Turning Colours Into Emotional Chaos
Painting, for me, isn’t just slapping some pretty colours onto a canvas whether that canvas is a wall or a tree or a persons face—it’s like grabbing the chaotic mess of emotions, tangled-up memories, and a bucketful of weird thoughts, and giving them a place to stretch their legs. I’m not just painting; I’m summoning the wild beasts of joy, sorrow, nostalgia, and that glittery thing called hope, and throwing them into the ring with bold splashes of colour and brushstrokes that scream, “I dare you to make sense of this!” Every stroke is like casting a D&D cantrip and failing with an epic critical spell with acrylics, my personal magic potion. Sure, some might call them ‘paints,’ but nah—these are potions that let me brew up a visual explosion of the unhinged, whimsical mind of a daydreamer who believes in pink fluffy unicorns dancing on the hopes and dreams of my detached soul, happy accidents, and the occasional rainstorm of glitter!.
Let’s not pretend every painting turns out like a Bob Ross masterpiece from Art Attack on an episode of Zoobilee Zoo, though. Sometimes, it’s more of a “what the actual fluff is this mess?” kind of scenario. My perfect vision of ethereal beauty turns into something that looks like a troll stomped through a puddle of neon paint. But hey, that’s where the fun begins! It’s like life—sometimes it’s glorious, sometimes it’s a flaming dumpster fire, but no matter what, it’s always worth it in the end. I’ll take a little chaos over boring any day. Besides, who needs smooth sailing when you can have a rollercoaster of epic colour splashes and accidental masterpieces? or an epic anime battle in neo-tokyo?
So yeah, my life is one big paint-splattered, messy adventure. Just like my art, it’s unpredictable, a little weird, and full of surprises. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. So lets get dangerous with COLOUR!
Photography: Capturing Moments (After 500 Attempts)
Ah, photo”bug”ography—my other chaotic love affair. Let me tell you, if you haven’t awkwardly crouched on the ground like a human pretzel in a “yoda” pose or scaled a questionable object just to capture that one shot, are you even a photographer? I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve waited for the perfect moment, balancing on the edge of something that probably isn’t OSHA-approved, all for that one elusive photo where the lighting finally agrees to cooperate, the angles align like some cosmic miracle, and it almost looks like I planned it. Spoiler alert: I didn’t, not even close or on this plane of reality. And I am jealous of people who can (Like, a few people I know who some how comes naturally to them)
For me, photography isn’t just about capturing life—it’s about tricking life into looking a whole lot cooler than it actually is (cause my life sucks). It’s the art of freezing those blink-and-you-miss-it moments, where everything feels just a bit more cinematic, like you’re living in a scene from a moody Ron Howard indie film (but with more snacks and less dialogue). Out of the 500 plus shots I take, maybe—maybe—5 are Instagram-TikTok-viral’ish-worthy, and honestly, I call that a win. Those 5 photos? They’re like finding gold in a haystack on another planet in some obscure dimension that doesn’t exist. They remind me that even in the middle of life’s dumpster fire moments, sometimes, just sometimes, you manage to catch a glimmer of magic like Disney type magic.
So yeah, photography is basically me trying to outsmart chaos, one awkward squat and a thousand blurry shots at a time. But when I nail that one perfect frame, it’s like a high-five from the universe smacking me down on a curb.
Writing: My Late-Night Love Affair With Words
Oh, how I wish I could tell you that I sit down every day or night with a steaming cup of hot chocolate of inspiration and effortlessly churn out the next great Pulitzer prize winning novel, but let’s be honest—most of the time, I’m just staring at a blank screen, silently pleading with my brain to throw me a bone. And when does inspiration decide to grace me with its presence? Right at 2 a.m., naturally. That magical hour when I should absolutely be asleep, but instead, I’m typing like some caffeine-fueled maniac, woken up from a stooper who’s just returned from a political convention after listening to dribble of babble of nonsensical crap that doesn’t make sense and then who’s somehow convinced they’re crafting a literary masterpiece that’s going to change the world. Spoiler: It’s probably just my grocery list with a plot twist.
Writing, my friends, is like herding feral cats. Except these cats are all half-caffeinated ideas, running in 13 different directions, none of them cooperating, and at least one is plotting to destroy me. But oh—when those rebellious little ideas finally come together, when the chaos aligns and something clicks—it’s like pure idealistic magic. That’s when I know all the sleepless nights, the brain fog, and the 525,600 half-written drafts were worth it. It’s like “renting” out my brain to a musical
Whether it’s a rambling blog post, a short story that turned into a novel-in-progress, or some cryptic notes I can’t decipher later, writing is where I let my thoughts run wild and free. It’s the place where my creativity can stretch its legs, put on a weird hat, and march to its own bizarre beat. And sure, sometimes the result is a glorious mess, but hey, it’s my glorious mess, and that’s what makes it worth every awkward moment of trying to herd those darn cats from the depths of the jungle where Tarzan was raised after his parents were killed from a shipwreck when they abandoned Elsa and Anna back in Arendelle when they tried to create the next Ice Age with Olaf and then it all went to hell and a hand basket. Where was Harry Potter when you needed him to invade the Death Star to blow it up with Fruit Loops!.
Coaching: Archery, Life, and a Little Bit of Magic
Now, here’s where things get extra spicy like “BAM” spicy. Not only do I wield a paintbrush like a wizard with a wand, but I also coach archery! Yeah, you heard that right—I’m part superhero, part instructor, part life-coaching teenage mutant ninja red panda. My mission? To help people tap into their inner Green Arrow (or Merida, Katniss, if you fancy a bit more heroic epic) and turn them into arrow-slinging legends of yesterday. Because let’s be real, archery isn’t just about hitting a target—it’s about channelling your inner zen, controlling your focus, flinging point sticks of death with zeal and poise and—most importantly—learning how to miss the mark with style and grace. You don’t just fail in archery; you fail with flair. (Like Donald Trump and one of his debates – he’s an idiotic dork!)
And then there’s life coaching. Oh yeah, I don’t just help people aim arrows, I help them aim their lives. I’m the one on the sidelines shouting, “You got this!” while they navigate the glorious dumpster fire that is either their teenage years or adulthood. Life is a bit like archery—it’s unpredictable, full of plot twists, and sometimes your arrows land in the dirt. But guess what? That’s okay. Because the truth is, no one actually has everything figured out, (and trust me I don’t either) and anyone who says otherwise is probably lying… or a robot or a Republican. My role? To help people buckle up for the rollercoaster ride, scream with glee (or terror, take your pick it’s a wild world), and manage to keep their lunch inside the ride.
Sometimes, my advice might sound like it came straight out of a fortune cookie, but hey, if it works, it works! “You’ve got this” is basically my life philosophy—it’s short, sweet, and packs a motivational punch to the face. Life may be messy, unpredictable, and slightly bonkers, but guess what? That’s what makes it interesting! So, grab your metaphorical (or literal) bow, nock that arrow, and let’s aim for the stars—even if we land somewhere in a tree.
So I leave you some of my advice…
“Life… it is a river, ceaselessly flowing, with no care for where it takes you. There are rapids, yes, and calm pools where the water barely stirs. Some days, the current pulls you along with grace, and on others, it thrashes you against the rocks. But in all this, one truth remains: you must swim. Whether you flail or glide, whether the water feels cold and biting or warm and inviting, you must swim.
We often seek to control the river, to bend its course, to demand that it flow in the way we believe it should. And yet, the river laughs at such arrogance. For what is control but an illusion, a fragile web we spin to protect ourselves from the reality of chaos? The universe does not bend to our desires; it moves as it always has, as it always will.
But within that movement, within that chaotic flow, there is beauty. It is in the uncertainty that we find the strength to endure, for without hardship, without the pain of struggle, there can be no growth. It is only through the forging fires of our darkest moments that we discover what we truly are. The stars themselves are born from the collapse of worlds, and so too are we shaped by our trials.
To seek meaning is a noble pursuit, but know this: meaning is not given to you by the river, nor is it found in the distant horizon. It is in your hands, shaped by the choices you make, the love you offer, the kindness you show, and the battles you fight. In each fleeting moment, there lies the potential to create something greater than yourself.
Do not fear the depths. Do not shy away from the rapids. Swim, and if you tire, let the current carry you for a time, but never stop moving forward. For in the end, the river flows toward the same destination for all of us. What matters is not how far we have travelled, but how we embraced the journey. The current may guide us, but the courage to keep swimming—that, my friend, is where the soul resides.”
Food: The Art of Making Edible Masterpieces (Or sending people to the bathroom)
Cooking, for me, is a bit like conducting a culinary symphony—with just a hint of lime and chaos. Imagine a mad scientist and a chef had a baby, and that baby was left alone in the kitchen with an endless supply of ingredients. That’s me. The kitchen is my lab, and every dish is an experiment. Sometimes, you get a beautiful masterpiece that could make Gordon Ramsay weep with pride. Other times? Well, let’s just say the smoke alarm with the Edmonton Fire Dept. on speed dial and I have an understanding.
I throw in flavours like an artist slaps paint onto a canvas—bold, unapologetic, and occasionally with questionable technique. It’s not about perfection; it’s about passion. Whether I’m whipping up something exotic or just jazzing up boxed KD (mac and cheese, for you American folk) with a bit of flair (and a lot of cheese, lots, and LOTS of cheese), I’m there for the journey, not the aesthetics. Sure, my meals might not always look like they belong on the cover of the Food Network, but you can bet they’ve got soul. And let’s be real, a little burnt edge here or a misplaced spice there just adds character—right?
But here’s the kicker: cooking is freedom. It’s the one place where improvisation is not just allowed, it’s celebrated. You run out of an ingredient? No problem, we’ll make a substitute that’s either brilliant or bizarre. Either way, it’s an adventure. It’s about throwing rules out the window and seeing what happens when you combine chocolate with… I don’t know, chili powder, Carolina reaper peppers or even a good steak over a fire? Oh wait, thats marshmallows. Who’s to say what works until you try it? If it fails, well, there’s always pizza delivery. Just don’t order from Pizza Hut (just my personal opinion)
At the end of the day, my food might not have a Michelin star, but it’s seasoned with humour, sprinkled with love, and garnished with a little bit of chaos—and that, my friends, makes it taste just right.
On a personal note: My squishy sister Rachel—can cook an incredible feast!
My Autism Journey: One Piece of the Puzzle
Ah yes, autism—a word that feels like it comes with its own neon sign but somehow doesn’t capture the full picture. It’s not the headline, more like a subplot with surprising twists, hidden gems, and the occasional “what-the-heck” moment. Think of it as the director’s cut of my life, where the raw, unfiltered version of me gets to shine in all its quirky, chaotic, and occasionally baffling glory. Probably one of many reasons I don’t have many “friends” too.
See, being on the spectrum isn’t like having a superpower or a curse—it’s more like living in a world where everyone’s speaking one language, and I’m over here with my own personal dialect, painting pictures with words no one else understands. But hey, that just makes things more interesting, right? My brain? Oh, it’s wired in a way that might short-circuit the average person’s expectations. But that’s the magic! I see patterns in the randomness, and my thoughts? They’re like popcorn kernels in a microwave—one second, nothing, and the next? Boom! A cascade of ideas, all popping off at once in random directions being scattered like a ….oh squirrely bunny! brb………………………………………….ok back on track.
It’s a double-edged sword, though. Some days it’s like navigating a world that’s been written in a code I didn’t get the manual for, where social cues are blurry, and emotions hit like a freight train travelling like being hit by the U.S.S. Enterprise D at warp 9. But then again, it’s given me this kaleidoscope view of life—a way of seeing things that other people miss. The smallest details, the nuances, the little sparks of magic in the mundane—they don’t slip past me. In fact, they’re what I live for.
Autism doesn’t define me, but it does add a bit of flair. It’s like that extra pinch of cinnamon in your morning coffee—not overpowering, but enough to make you go, “Hmm, something’s different here.” There’s no filter, no sugar-coating, just pure, uncut me. Whether it’s my loud, unapologetic excitement for my latest creative project or my blunt, possibly too-honest take on whatever’s going on in the world, you’re getting all of me, unvarnished and unscripted. Like beating people I don’t like with a wet noodle or smacking idiots across the head with a beaver or scratching my head on why people don’t like pineapple on pizza.
At the end of the day, autism is just one brushstroke in the wild, colourful painting that is my life. It’s not the whole picture, but it sure does make the edges a little more vibrant.
Life: A Wild, Wonderful Adventure
So, what’s it all about? Well, this space—this little corner of the internet—is like the inside of my brain splashed across a world wide web canvas. It’s where all my wild, wonderful, and downright peculiar passions collide in a beautiful, chaotic mess. From my mad-scientist experiments in the kitchen to my deep dives into archery and life coaching, from my candid (and sometimes ridiculous) musings about the world to the pieces of art that sometimes even surprise me, it’s all here. This site is my playground, my canvas, my soapbox, and occasionally, my therapist. This place is where you will find things about me, my art, writings, thoughts, viewpoints and walk of life and how I see the world.
Life? Oh, it’s gloriously messy, an unpredictable rollercoaster of “wait, what just happened?” moments, but here’s the thing—I wouldn’t have it any other way. This space is the reflection of that. The art that takes unexpected turns, the stories that go off the rails, the food that somehow still tastes amazing even when it didn’t follow the plan—it’s all part of the ride.
If you’re here to read and learn and get to know the wild and whacky me, buckle up! Whether you’re drawn in by the creative imagination of what I do, the random stories, the experimental cooking (hey, we’ve all set off a smoke alarm or two), or maybe you’re just here for the pure, unfiltered chaos—I’m thrilled to have you along for the adventure. Come dive into this vibrant, unpredictable, weirdly magical journey together, and see where the creative winds take us. Who knows, we might just stumble on something brilliant—or at the very least, something worth laughing about!
Brace Yourselves for Epic Weirdness: The Deep Dive into My Fluffy Brain!
The Art of Creation and the Soul Behind It
Creation, for me, is not just an act—it is a state of being. When I enter full creative mode, it is as if the world tilts, shifting into a realm where time is irrelevant and existence is distilled into pure expression. The barriers between thought and form dissolve, and I become a vessel for something greater—something that longs to be seen, heard, and felt. Whether through words, brushstrokes, or music, I lose myself in the act of bringing forth what was once only a whisper in my mind. It is a dance between inspiration and discipline, a battle between doubt and conviction, and a journey that demands I surrender to the process, no matter where it leads.
Inspiration is everywhere, but it is not always loud. It is in the way sunlight filters through a frost-laced window, in the quiet ache of solitude, in the electric charge of a storm before it breaks. It is found in moments of stillness and in the chaos of life’s unexpected turns. From my writing to my visual art of painting, my music from my soul to even my bow. It is in the steady, rhythmic draw of my bowstring, the tension before release, the sharp whistle of an arrow slicing the air—a reminder that focus and patience are the keys to both archery and art. The lessons I have learned both with pen and paper, brush and canvas and arrow on the range are the same ones that guide my creative journey: Believe in the process. Aim true. Let go.
There are moments that shape us, fragments of time that leave permanent imprints on the soul. The first time I watched a character I created breathe on the page. The first stroke of paint that turned an empty canvas into a world of its own. The quiet triumph of hearing a melody come together, as if it had been waiting to exist. And then there is the pull of the bowstring, the sharp clarity of that perfect shot, a moment of alignment between mind, body, and intention. These moments remind me why I create—not for recognition or approval, but because there is something inside me that refuses to remain silent. To create is to live—to leave a mark on the world, however small, and to say: I was here, and I felt deeply.
I write the stories I do because I believe in the power of light—the quiet kind, the one that flickers even in the deepest darkness. My books are not just words on a page; they are testaments to resilience, hope, and the strength found in the brokenness of the world I live in. I write about those who have been overlooked, about finding belonging in unexpected places, about the scars that do not define us but shape us. I write because someone out there needs to hear that they are not alone.
My autism as well, is woven into every part of this journey. It gives me an intricate way of seeing the world—where details are amplified, emotions have textures, and patterns emerge in places others might not notice. My mind is a vast, sprawling landscape of connections, and when I write, I am translating that world into something tangible. But it is not always easy. The weight of too much sensory input, the exhaustion of social navigation, the struggle to express emotions in ways the world expects—it all bleeds into my work. Yet, in that struggle, there is also a gift: a way of storytelling that is uniquely mine, a voice that is both deeply personal and universally resonant.
I do not create because it is easy. I create because it is necessary. Because stories, art, and music are the language of the soul. Because even when words fail, a painting can speak. Because even in silence, a melody can reach where nothing else can. I am not just telling stories—I am leaving pieces of myself in everything I create. This is my journey. And every word, every colour, every note is a step forward into something greater than myself.
I also find writing a better vessel in which to speak than verbal communication, for I cannot speak with such elegance as I can when I write.
Ink, Brush, & Melody: The Evolution of Me
Time, it both haunts us like a ghost in the night forever chasing us while at the same time being our companion. Time is a sculptor, shaping us in ways we never fully see until we pause and look back. The teenager I once was and the person I am now—two versions of the same soul, separated by years of experience, pain, growth, and discovery. At fifteen, I was a storm contained within a unique body, restless and yearning, seeking answers in the spaces between words, in the silence of solitude, in the music of my own thoughts. I existed in a world that often did not understand me (nor I it), navigating a reality that felt too loud, too fast, too unkind. I was an observer more than a participant, watching life unfold as though it were a play where I had never been given the script.
Now, at almost fifty (that's right I'm old by numbers but mentally still young as ever), I am still that same soul, but tempered by time, pain and anguish, refined by wisdom, education and experience, and softened by understanding, compassion and kindness. The world though has not changed much, but I have. I no longer seek to fit into spaces never meant for me. Instead, I create my own, even if it's in isolation. I have learned that strength is not in forcing myself into places where I do not belong, but in embracing who I am—fully, unapologetically, and without compromise. My mental health, physical and mental disabilities, my autistic journey has been a path of self-realization, a long and winding road where I have learned to advocate for myself, to honour the way my mind works, to push against the expectations of a world that often asks me to be something I am not. Growth was never about becoming someone new—it was about learning to be at peace with who I always was.
If there is one era that shaped me, it is the 1980's—a time of unapologetic creativity, of neon dreams and cinematic wonder, of music that still pulses in my veins. The '80s were loud and wild, but also deeply imaginative, a decade where storytelling took bold risks, where synth beats wove their way into memory, where even the smallest things seemed infused with magic. It was a time before the world became tangled in the web of instant communication, before everything felt so scrutinized and diluted and falling apart now. The ‘80s remind me of a world that was still discovering itself, much like I was.
But for all the things I love, I have my pet peeves—chief among them is when people assume they know me without truly understanding me. There is nothing more frustrating than being misinterpreted, boxed into an assumption that does not reflect who I am. People often see only what is on the surface and mistake my directness for coldness, my need for solitude as disinterest, my autistic traits as rudeness. What they do not always see is the depth beneath—the care, and kindness, the passion, the intensity of thought. They do not see the hours spent turning emotions into art, the effort it takes to translate my mind’s language into something the world can understand. And perhaps that is why misunderstandings sting the most—they remind me how much of my world remains unseen by others.
But there are simple joys that anchor me—favourite foods that bring comfort, laughter, and nostalgia. My mom's pasta on a cold day. The crisp bite of fresh peaches. The simple pleasure of fresh bread with butter. The delight of a perfectly cooked meal that speaks to something primal and familiar or my dad's relentless attempts at BBQ'ing. Food is not just sustenance; it is memory, it is experience, it is a quiet kind of happiness.
And if I could give advice to others, it would be this—listen, learn, grow, but never lose yourself in the expectations of others. And, as wise man once said, “No one here is exactly what he appears. But then, who is?” The world will tell you who you should be. It will ask you to conform, to bend, to shrink yourself into something more palatable. DO NOT LISTEN! Your journey is your own. Walk it with courage. Walk it with purpose. And above all, walk it as your true self.
As for my goal for this blog, it is simple: to create, to inspire, to connect. This is a space where I can bring my stories, my art, my music into the world—not just as a display, but as a dialogue. A place where creativity meets passion, where words have meaning, and where those who feel unseen can find a kindred spirit. My journey has been long, but it is far from over. And if I can leave even the smallest spark of inspiration in someone else’s life, then this space, this work, this path—it will have been worth every step.
Till then, listen, learn, grow and trust that God will take the wheel.
The Looking Glass: Reflections of Chaos, Creativity, and the Unwritten Symphony of Life
As we reach the precipice of this part—this wild, electrifying, beautifully tangled journey of mine—let us pause and gaze through the looking glass, not as passive observers, but as travellers on the winding road of creation. What you see here is not just a blog. No, it is far more. It is a realm where imagination and reality blur, where words become brushstrokes, music takes form, and stories breathe like living creatures. It is a manifesto of existence, a defiant whisper against the static silence of the ordinary.
I have walked through many landscapes—some real, some painted, some whispered into being with ink on paper. I have fired arrows into the heart of uncertainty, painted entire worlds with the flick of a brush, and woven melodies that echo in the corridors of the mind long after the final note fades. I have laughed in the face of convention, stumbled gloriously into chaos, and found joy in the absurdity of it all. Life is not meant to be tidy, nor predictable—it is meant to be lived in all its wild, chaotic brilliance. And this space? This space is where that truth is honoured, where creativity is given not just a voice, but a throne.
But let us not be deceived—there is something deeper at play here. Beyond the whimsy and the vibrant hues, there exists an undercurrent of hard-won wisdom, of battles fought and scars worn like constellations upon my soul. Every brushstroke, every written word, every note played is a defiance of the isolation that often comes with seeing the world through a different lens. Autism has not simply shaped me—it has been both the challenge and the gift, the labyrinth and the key. Where others see rigid patterns, I see infinite possibilities. Where the world demands conformity, I craft a reality where the unconventional thrives.
We are all but wanderers, seeking meaning in a world that so often insists on telling us who we should be. But as a wise man once said, "The universe speaks in many languages, but only one voice. It is the voice of our ancestors, speaking through us, and the voice of our inheritors waiting to be born. It is our responsibility to make sure that voice continues to be heard." And so, I create. I create because the world needs stories. I create because art, music, and words are the great bridge between souls, the proof that we are not alone in our thoughts, our dreams, or our struggles.
So take up your tools—your paintbrushes, your cameras, your pens, your voices—and step into this untamed, whimsical wonderland with me. Let us explore the hidden magic of the mundane, laugh in the face of normalcy, and embrace the chaos that makes life worth living. Let us be bold. Let us be peculiar. Let us be relentless in our pursuit of creation.
This is more than just my voice—it is a symphony of all those who dare to defy expectation and embrace the extraordinary. It is an invitation, an open door, a challenge to see the world not just for what it is, but for what it could be. Because beyond the looking glass, the extraordinary is always waiting to be found.
And if the world ever asks why we refuse to blend in, why we stand at the edge of convention and dare to dream, we shall answer with a knowing smile:
"Because we are the makers of reality. And reality is whatever we decide it to be."
So, I Welcome you all to my kingdom of creativity, where I am the "Queen of Kings", and where every day is an invitation to create, to dream, and to embrace the unfiltered magic within us all.
🎵 Musical Musings 🎶
Where Words Fade, Music Speaks
Welcome to the rhythm of my world. This is where melodies meet emotions, and every note tells a story. From original compositions to experimental sounds, this space is dedicated to my musical journey—raw, expressive, and deeply personal. Whether it’s a soft piano piece, a cinematic score, or something entirely unexpected, each track captures a moment, a feeling, a story untold.
Thank you to those who contributed their vocal talents to the scores and accompaniments I created from the musical talents I created.
🎧 Listen, explore, and let the music speak.
All music featured on this site is original and copyrighted by Sarah King. Unauthorized use, reproduction, or distribution is strictly prohibited.
The music I created was done using an Alesis 88 Key Digital Grand with MIDI USB Interface, using Cakewalk and AVID ProTools with VST instruments and edited in Adobe Audition in the end for compression and output.
PS: I also play the piano, violin and cello.