Sunday, January 30, 2011

A glimpse into...

the writing sessions of a wanna-be.

I move the candles in nearer, close the curtains, and sit down in the best ten dollars I’ve ever spent- a big chair I bought at a garage sale years ago and have covered with a vintage sheet that does wonders for the color orange. Journal, notebook, computer, and the Daily Writer close by, I’m ready to begin.

Inspired by the daily reading from Fred, I open my journal and scribble down my thoughts and fears related to writing, and what I must do to succeed. It’s a motivational sort of entry that just sets my creative spirit loose; ready to conquer any obstacle the monotonous, empty wall across the room might hurl my way. You know the kind I’m talking about.

After the inspiring journal entry complete with a triple-point conclusion, I realize I’m hungry. I wander into the kitchen, pleased with the sight on the stove. With soup and cranberry juice in hand, I make my way back to the cozy corner in my room.  I open my computer and begin to eat my lunch. Now, I can’t write and eat at the same time, so naturally I check what’s new on facebook and in the blogosphere.

The world seems to be doing alright. Okay, I really need to get started now. I have an idea for a piece, which is a start-but wait, I need music! In the mood for something new, so I open my document of recommended music (yes, I do have one- please, no judging,) and after a few failed chances by artists who are to remain un-named, I settle on Rosie Thomas… for now. Thanks, Grooveshark.

Back to business. Does a fresh, blank word document terrify anyone else? I should be over it by now. Ready or not, I start typing. That’s the second hardest part- starting. I think the first hardest part is finishing. Is that weird? Just keep typing.

Well, I’ve started, so now I deserve a break, right? Ice cream. Don’t you love when the amount left in the carton is the perfect amount for the vessel you’ve chosen to eat it out of? I do. In this case, it’s a flimsy, plastic cup with hearts running across the center- a treasure from Valentine’s Day past, to be sure.

After a few more paragraphs, a change of tunes, a minor spoon catastrophe, a facebook update, and a stomachache, I’m almost done. Wait, didn’t I just start?
Perhaps the heart of the story is in the journey, and the end gives no warning.

After all, isn’t that how life works?

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Friday, January 21, 2011

i'm not dead yet.

Life is good. Real good. I have been learning a lot recently. God is so faithful. Do you ever just ponder his goodness?

Growth is a sign of life, and in my case, well, I'm thankful for that. Often I get discouraged about things happening or not happening in my life and recently I realized that getting down about it really doesn't help the problem. Rolling up my sleeves and doing hard things is a start and one worth setting out on.
Also, is it really possible that I could once again lose sight of who God is? I mean, really… who and what he is?
Crazy! I amaze myself with my lack of memory. And pitiful complaining sessions.
Sometimes, I just don't feel it. What's "it?" Could be anything… reading the Bible, dancing, writing, creating, etc. Yet those are things I love to do and was made to do. Does it seem like there may be somebody else at work here, making things a little screwy? I think so.

So the good part? God has shown me mercy and granted me the courage to see past those low times. Sometimes it's just a choice. It starts in the mind and works it's way down to the heart.

Every day is full of choices. 

To walk in truth, or listen to lies. To confess and repent, or sink deeper in sin. To watch TV, or start that project that's been mulling around in your creative mind for a good couple of weeks. To spend an hour social networking or spend that hour in the novel you've sworn to read for the past 3 nights. To write a note to someone you love, or smile at the thought as it floats out of your mind.

Some may be more important than others, but I believe every decision I make effects my life in a real way.

Here's to choosing the wise, creative, hard, love-filled, adventurous road…

here's to true life!

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy;
I have come that they may have life,
and have it to the full.
-John 10:10

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

romantic vs. practical

Dec. 13th 2010
Well, off on another adventure! Oh, how I love traveling. But at the same time, it scares me a little. 
First mistake, well maybe mistake- I went the romantic route, rather than practical by bringing my floral suitcase and turquoise backpack. The suitcase- though small, has no wheels. And the backpack- though comfy, is a bit heavy, and I don't have a rolling suitcase to set it on. Oh, well- too late now! 
Headed to Newark. This plane is very small. The lady across the aisle reminds me of the mother in the old 'Freaky Friday.' Complete with supplemental eyelashes. Just sayin'! 
Mom gave me a freelance writing book for 'Guys and Dolls' (no connection to the show there, but heck! I like it!) I brought it, along with 'Persuasion' (as we will be visiting Miss Jane Austen's house, grave, etc,) 'Passion and Purity,' 'The Big Book of Words you should Know,' and of course, the Bible :) 
Carly and Joseph came along, too. And the new lens. Looking forward to using that! 
Why, oh why is my handwriting not romantic? How I long to write beautifully crafted words. Blast!

An excerpt from my London journal, just a bit tweaked.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

the truth is...

i am nothing, on my own.

i am selfish, prideful, and judgmental. 

dreams and desires, hopes and goals

are pointless without a purpose; a realization of their origin.

where do dreams come from? from where do unique ideas spring up?

i create, because i was created. i hope, because he has hope for me.

i live because he breathed life into me.

i am nothing. have nothing. can do nothing.
without him.

what is a dream without a purpose? 
what is a work of art without a creator? 
what is life without a savior?


but, because of him

i have everything.
and the possibilities are endless. 

photo credit: Mum