I was going through my pictures on facebook and rediscovered this absolutely, hilariously AMAZING video. This is what happens when a bunch of kids (read: 2 high schoolers and 3 "adults") from Southern California wind up in the snow. Amazing-ness happens.
https://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?v=1876116660266&set=t.661655290&type=1
Click the link. I dare you to. I promise it's worth it.
Oh! And all video credit goes to Austin Harris :)
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Oops...
Wow...I think I can officially say I failed miserably at my initial attempt at Project 365. It should have been called Project 7. It lasted a week. Neat.
I'm going back and forth here between embarrassment, disappointment, and feelings of "whatever." Excuses come up quickly: I have a lot going on right now. I'm tired. I worked a lot, give me a break! I have to write reports for work (ugh). Who said I have to write every, stinking day anyway??
Well...I did. I set a goal for myself and after a week I failed. I'm sure there are plenty of reasons why, but one stands out boldly in my mind: I dropped the ball. It's pretty straightforward, really. I set out to accomplish something and I just didn't do it. My path became a bit difficult so I turned and followed another path. I find myself now staring at my original path with mixed emotions. I want so badly to turn back and begin walking again, but I am afraid I will fail again, and - even worse - I am embarrassed that I failed in the first place. It's easier just to not try, so we don't have to deal with the fallout of failure.
Easier, yes. Better? Absolutely not. The thing that made me get back on the writing horse is this: Grace. This word has been flitting back and forth in my mind since I realized I had skipped a day of Project 365.
Now, there are many definitions of grace, but I am struck by one: mercy, clemency, pardon...Forgiveness. If I believe I need to show myself a little grace does it necessarily follow that I need to forgive myself? I believe the answer is simple: Yes.
Simple in theory, not in practice. It is difficult enough to take an honest look in the mirror and say, "I screwed up," whether that screw up is a big deal or a small. Often we prefer to go along our merry way and avoid any reflection we may pass. A friend is hurt by us? Well, we jump to the defensive, and announce the friend is wrong, too - more wrong than I could ever be! Someone holds up a mirror to us and we avert our gaze. We hate having to look in the mirror and see the flaws. We think we are uglier with our flaws and hate to face them.
The thing I am beginning to discover is this: When we face our flaws, our mistakes, and pour the ointment of grace over them, we become lovely. The scars and hurts don't disappear. They instead morph into beauty - beauty of experience, wisdom, and most of all forgiveness.
Forgiveness is an act of love. It's true - whether we like the person or not, forgiveness takes love. Love the verb, not the noun...Love the choice, not the feeling. And, as C.S. Lewis says, once we learn to love our neighbor as ourselves we can begin to love ourselves as our neighbor. This is a concept that is, I think, difficult for most people to understand. Oh, I think we get it abstractly. We can analyze and discuss as much as we like, but until we look in the mirror and see our flaws as clearly as we can see the flaws of others we can't give ourselves grace or forgiveness. And this grace is a choice.
And so, I am choosing to look in the mirror and realize I am human - with all my mistakes, my flaws, my dropping of the ball. I am choosing to love myself and show myself a little grace and forgiveness. And I am beautiful.
I'm going back and forth here between embarrassment, disappointment, and feelings of "whatever." Excuses come up quickly: I have a lot going on right now. I'm tired. I worked a lot, give me a break! I have to write reports for work (ugh). Who said I have to write every, stinking day anyway??
Well...I did. I set a goal for myself and after a week I failed. I'm sure there are plenty of reasons why, but one stands out boldly in my mind: I dropped the ball. It's pretty straightforward, really. I set out to accomplish something and I just didn't do it. My path became a bit difficult so I turned and followed another path. I find myself now staring at my original path with mixed emotions. I want so badly to turn back and begin walking again, but I am afraid I will fail again, and - even worse - I am embarrassed that I failed in the first place. It's easier just to not try, so we don't have to deal with the fallout of failure.
Easier, yes. Better? Absolutely not. The thing that made me get back on the writing horse is this: Grace. This word has been flitting back and forth in my mind since I realized I had skipped a day of Project 365.
Now, there are many definitions of grace, but I am struck by one: mercy, clemency, pardon...Forgiveness. If I believe I need to show myself a little grace does it necessarily follow that I need to forgive myself? I believe the answer is simple: Yes.
Simple in theory, not in practice. It is difficult enough to take an honest look in the mirror and say, "I screwed up," whether that screw up is a big deal or a small. Often we prefer to go along our merry way and avoid any reflection we may pass. A friend is hurt by us? Well, we jump to the defensive, and announce the friend is wrong, too - more wrong than I could ever be! Someone holds up a mirror to us and we avert our gaze. We hate having to look in the mirror and see the flaws. We think we are uglier with our flaws and hate to face them.
The thing I am beginning to discover is this: When we face our flaws, our mistakes, and pour the ointment of grace over them, we become lovely. The scars and hurts don't disappear. They instead morph into beauty - beauty of experience, wisdom, and most of all forgiveness.
Forgiveness is an act of love. It's true - whether we like the person or not, forgiveness takes love. Love the verb, not the noun...Love the choice, not the feeling. And, as C.S. Lewis says, once we learn to love our neighbor as ourselves we can begin to love ourselves as our neighbor. This is a concept that is, I think, difficult for most people to understand. Oh, I think we get it abstractly. We can analyze and discuss as much as we like, but until we look in the mirror and see our flaws as clearly as we can see the flaws of others we can't give ourselves grace or forgiveness. And this grace is a choice.
And so, I am choosing to look in the mirror and realize I am human - with all my mistakes, my flaws, my dropping of the ball. I am choosing to love myself and show myself a little grace and forgiveness. And I am beautiful.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
It's A Bird! It's A Plane!! It's...Voldemort?
Someone cue the Harry Potter soundtrack...This is crazy.
Voldemort seems to have appeared in the clouds over Canada. And this man was able to catch it on video. You have to be a little patient...it doesn't start to really form until about a minute into the video.
And I don't really know why this guy was filming clouds. I've thought about it and I just can't figure it out.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
When Facebook Strikes
I'm totally cheating today, but you know what? I'm tired. And I have been sitting in front of my computer for 1 hour and 30 minutes with no more than 2 paragraphs of nothing to show for it. I think I need to start blogging in the mornings, or something, when I'm not so tired that all I can get out is the phrase, "I'm tired."
So instead of a true post I am going to pass along to you what I have been doing for the last hour and a half:
So instead of a true post I am going to pass along to you what I have been doing for the last hour and a half:
On Heroes
I just saw Captain America...I know - finally. You would think a Disney fanatic such as myself would have seen this before. Somehow I just hadn't gotten around to it.
Now it's no secret I love superhero movies. What's not to love? They are action packed. There's always some sort of romance. They address pretty solid themes (the classic good vs. evil comes to mind). The hero is always attractive and has an interesting, and - yes - sexy attitude that makes him just plain irresistible. So we have discovered, once again, how deep my waters really run.
Anyway, I was watching Captain America, and thought that while I still love Ryan Reynolds, not only does Chris Evans give him a tough run for his money, but the movie itself was about a trillion times better. Don't get me wrong: I enjoyed Green Lantern very much. I know if I watched it right now I would still enjoy it. But it's like the difference between eating a store bought, packaged cookie as opposed to a warm, homemade cookie. You enjoy the one you bought at the store, but you'll typically choose the homemade cookie every time. And while I was considering this and trying to push that strange guilty feeling away (I promise I wasn't saying anything horrible about Ryan Reynolds!) I thought about just what it is that makes superheroes so amazing. Some people would claim that there is nothing super special about superheroes. Strip away the suits, cars, weapons, radio-active spiders, kryptonite, etc. and what do you have? these people scoff. Well, I have an answer:
The ultimate self sacrifice.
Superheroes are amazing because they always put "the other" before themselves. Wow. Think about it. In every superhero movie you have seen the hero has at least a small moment in which he or she makes the conscious decision to sacrifice him or herself for the love interest, the city, the nation, the world...It seems this trait is what makes superheroes so gosh-darned special.
Well, DUH, Steph! you say. We all know that. Talk about stating the obvious.
It is obvious - or it should be. But we tend to view these characters as complete and utter fiction. Now I know they are. I realize there is no such person as Steve Rogers/Captain America, Hal Jordan/Green Lantern, Clark Kent/Superman, Bruce Wayne/Batman, Peter Parker/Spider-Man, etc. As much as I love viewing the world through my fantasy lenses I know there is a difference between daydreams and reality. My point here is this: we shouldn't be so shocked at the idea of people who are willing to give themselves for someone else when we have the opportunity to witness this everyday.
My older brother has made a conscious decision that if it comes down to it he will lay down his life for someone else. My younger brother has made the same conscious decision to put his life on the line for another. I guess they must have something in common...
I know the police, especially in LA right now, get a lot of bad press. And there is something to that: there are ordinary people on the police force - ordinary people who make good, and bad, decisions everyday. And, like most ordinary people, they make mistakes and falter and fall. Yes. There are true "bad cops" out there. Unfortunately we shine a light on these ordinary human beings, focusing not on their humanity but in their inhumanity. We throw up our arms in outrage - how dare the police do these things?? And to a certain extent we should. It never does to have people in positions of authority using their place for harm. The trouble is we focus so much on these bad pictures that we forget about the good. We forget about the men and women who every single day strap on their guns and badges and walk around understanding that if it comes down to it they will make the ultimate sacrifice that day. How quickly we forget that without these amazing men and women we would be lost, and in serious danger. We're so quick to judge them, to see them as villains, when in reality when we see those black and white cars we are looking at a true Batmobile. When we see the blue uniforms we are looking at a real Superman suit. Every day we see honest-to-God superheroes.
It's interesting...If we villainize cops, I think we can easily say we dumb-down fire fighters. I do it, too. I look at a fire truck and don't always see Spidey's webs - the tool to get around town. When I pass a firehouse I have to admit there are times when I see a calendar, with an attractive guy for each month. It's horrible! I can't even begin to count how many times I've heard, or been part of, a conversation that goes something like this:
Well, I was running late but there were fire fighters in the store so it wasn't all bad.
That's the best! I love looking at those fire fighters.
In our rush to view fire fighters as the golden boys we forget that they are much more important than eye candy. Every time they receive a call they know they are heading to an emergency. And while most of the situations may be medical emergencies many of them are not. Structure fires, accidents, goodness - the hills of Santa Barbara seem to be on fire all the time. All these situations are dangerous, and the fire fighters not only hold a hose in their hands, but the knowledge that they will risk everything to protect another person. Everything. We somehow miss the superhero when we see them.
I see heroes everyday. I have true heroes in my family. And I pray everyday that they will be safe. That the people they protect will not require that sacrifice, because I know my brothers will make it. I stare at the women who love them in awe - it takes a special, strong, heroic woman to love a man who has made the decision to be a superhero. I hope the people who cross paths with my brothers will treat them as heroes, rather than villains, or calendar boys.
How can you be sure they are heroes? you may be asking me right now. Well, it's because I know if they see this they will respond with the same response all the superheroes make: "I'm just doing my job." And they will - even if they job means laying down their lives for another person.
God bless the heroes.
Now it's no secret I love superhero movies. What's not to love? They are action packed. There's always some sort of romance. They address pretty solid themes (the classic good vs. evil comes to mind). The hero is always attractive and has an interesting, and - yes - sexy attitude that makes him just plain irresistible. So we have discovered, once again, how deep my waters really run.
Anyway, I was watching Captain America, and thought that while I still love Ryan Reynolds, not only does Chris Evans give him a tough run for his money, but the movie itself was about a trillion times better. Don't get me wrong: I enjoyed Green Lantern very much. I know if I watched it right now I would still enjoy it. But it's like the difference between eating a store bought, packaged cookie as opposed to a warm, homemade cookie. You enjoy the one you bought at the store, but you'll typically choose the homemade cookie every time. And while I was considering this and trying to push that strange guilty feeling away (I promise I wasn't saying anything horrible about Ryan Reynolds!) I thought about just what it is that makes superheroes so amazing. Some people would claim that there is nothing super special about superheroes. Strip away the suits, cars, weapons, radio-active spiders, kryptonite, etc. and what do you have? these people scoff. Well, I have an answer:
The ultimate self sacrifice.
Superheroes are amazing because they always put "the other" before themselves. Wow. Think about it. In every superhero movie you have seen the hero has at least a small moment in which he or she makes the conscious decision to sacrifice him or herself for the love interest, the city, the nation, the world...It seems this trait is what makes superheroes so gosh-darned special.
Well, DUH, Steph! you say. We all know that. Talk about stating the obvious.
It is obvious - or it should be. But we tend to view these characters as complete and utter fiction. Now I know they are. I realize there is no such person as Steve Rogers/Captain America, Hal Jordan/Green Lantern, Clark Kent/Superman, Bruce Wayne/Batman, Peter Parker/Spider-Man, etc. As much as I love viewing the world through my fantasy lenses I know there is a difference between daydreams and reality. My point here is this: we shouldn't be so shocked at the idea of people who are willing to give themselves for someone else when we have the opportunity to witness this everyday.
My older brother has made a conscious decision that if it comes down to it he will lay down his life for someone else. My younger brother has made the same conscious decision to put his life on the line for another. I guess they must have something in common...
I know the police, especially in LA right now, get a lot of bad press. And there is something to that: there are ordinary people on the police force - ordinary people who make good, and bad, decisions everyday. And, like most ordinary people, they make mistakes and falter and fall. Yes. There are true "bad cops" out there. Unfortunately we shine a light on these ordinary human beings, focusing not on their humanity but in their inhumanity. We throw up our arms in outrage - how dare the police do these things?? And to a certain extent we should. It never does to have people in positions of authority using their place for harm. The trouble is we focus so much on these bad pictures that we forget about the good. We forget about the men and women who every single day strap on their guns and badges and walk around understanding that if it comes down to it they will make the ultimate sacrifice that day. How quickly we forget that without these amazing men and women we would be lost, and in serious danger. We're so quick to judge them, to see them as villains, when in reality when we see those black and white cars we are looking at a true Batmobile. When we see the blue uniforms we are looking at a real Superman suit. Every day we see honest-to-God superheroes.
It's interesting...If we villainize cops, I think we can easily say we dumb-down fire fighters. I do it, too. I look at a fire truck and don't always see Spidey's webs - the tool to get around town. When I pass a firehouse I have to admit there are times when I see a calendar, with an attractive guy for each month. It's horrible! I can't even begin to count how many times I've heard, or been part of, a conversation that goes something like this:
Well, I was running late but there were fire fighters in the store so it wasn't all bad.
That's the best! I love looking at those fire fighters.
In our rush to view fire fighters as the golden boys we forget that they are much more important than eye candy. Every time they receive a call they know they are heading to an emergency. And while most of the situations may be medical emergencies many of them are not. Structure fires, accidents, goodness - the hills of Santa Barbara seem to be on fire all the time. All these situations are dangerous, and the fire fighters not only hold a hose in their hands, but the knowledge that they will risk everything to protect another person. Everything. We somehow miss the superhero when we see them.
I see heroes everyday. I have true heroes in my family. And I pray everyday that they will be safe. That the people they protect will not require that sacrifice, because I know my brothers will make it. I stare at the women who love them in awe - it takes a special, strong, heroic woman to love a man who has made the decision to be a superhero. I hope the people who cross paths with my brothers will treat them as heroes, rather than villains, or calendar boys.
How can you be sure they are heroes? you may be asking me right now. Well, it's because I know if they see this they will respond with the same response all the superheroes make: "I'm just doing my job." And they will - even if they job means laying down their lives for another person.
God bless the heroes.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
I Am Frustrated Tonight...
I'm frustrated tonight. I am frustrated because I have to work 3 jobs to be able to pay my rent. I am frustrated because I had to work over 12 hours today. I am frustrated because I don't have a car. I am frustrated because my legs hurt from being on them all day. I am frustrated because so many kids I interacted with today acted entitled and prissy. I am frustrated because the wings I began making for Timmy were too small and I have to start again. I am frustrated about being so frustrated that every, little thing becomes even more frustrating to me.
You may or may not have noticed, but I am feeling a bit frustrated tonight.
I considered writing a rant about how kids these days are too entitled, but then I realized it would go against my only true rule for writing: I will only write things that lift myself, and my readers, up.
In the midst of all this frustration a songs is flitting through my head. It's a song I know well, and because it is so familiar I find myself ignoring it. There's nothing new in this song, there's no shock in it. It isn't even truly a song, but instead a prayer that has been set to music.
This is the prayer I pray on my way to work in the mornings. It is the prayer I would pray over the kids as I rubbed their backs to help them go to sleep. It is the prayer I pray when I am nervous or scared. It is the prayer I pray when moms cry to me and I don't know what to say. It is the prayer that without fail comes into my head when I am overwhelmingly frustrated. The words slowly and gently make themselves known in my head, as if to offer a gentle reminder that being frustrated is not what I really want. The state of frustration isn't me. This prayer helps me to make it true.
The Prayer of St. Francis of Assissi
Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace:
Where there is hatred, let me sow love
Where there is injury, pardon
Where there is doubt, faith
Where there is despair, hope
Where there is darkness, light
Where there is sadness, joy
O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console
To be understood, as to understand
To be loved, as to love
For it's in giving that we receive
And it's in pardoning that we are pardoned
And it's in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.
You may or may not have noticed, but I am feeling a bit frustrated tonight.
I considered writing a rant about how kids these days are too entitled, but then I realized it would go against my only true rule for writing: I will only write things that lift myself, and my readers, up.
In the midst of all this frustration a songs is flitting through my head. It's a song I know well, and because it is so familiar I find myself ignoring it. There's nothing new in this song, there's no shock in it. It isn't even truly a song, but instead a prayer that has been set to music.
This is the prayer I pray on my way to work in the mornings. It is the prayer I would pray over the kids as I rubbed their backs to help them go to sleep. It is the prayer I pray when I am nervous or scared. It is the prayer I pray when moms cry to me and I don't know what to say. It is the prayer that without fail comes into my head when I am overwhelmingly frustrated. The words slowly and gently make themselves known in my head, as if to offer a gentle reminder that being frustrated is not what I really want. The state of frustration isn't me. This prayer helps me to make it true.
The Prayer of St. Francis of Assissi
Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace:
Where there is hatred, let me sow love
Where there is injury, pardon
Where there is doubt, faith
Where there is despair, hope
Where there is darkness, light
Where there is sadness, joy
O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console
To be understood, as to understand
To be loved, as to love
For it's in giving that we receive
And it's in pardoning that we are pardoned
And it's in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Trust, Part 1
Last night before I went to bed I decided I would try to begin the task of tackling trust in today's blog. I sit here now and I just can't seem to find the energy in me to even face the idea.
So instead I decided to post some pictures - examples of trust in my family. Just a reminder of what trust, and love, can look like.
So instead I decided to post some pictures - examples of trust in my family. Just a reminder of what trust, and love, can look like.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
The Bend in the Road
Here I am on day two of my Project 365 and I am already faced with a horrible question: What on Earth am I going to write about??
I know on some days there will be PLENTY to write about. The issue then will be pruning so I don't overwhelm myself. And I know there will be plenty of dry patches. Unfortunately, in my effort to beat back the Writer's Block Beast I have begun my project in what feels like the middle of a desert.
I suppose that isn't quite true. There's a lot that I am thinking about, I just don't want to beat the dead horse. Because the thing is, from where I am on this journey through life I can see a bend in the road. (For those of you have read anything I have written you are probably familiar with my fascination with the Bend...It comes from my extreme love of Anne of Green Gables and, well, any book written by L.M. Montgomery. Her view of life just makes sense to me.) For so long I have seen my path stretching out before me. Yes, there have been little dips to stumble over and hills to climb. And every day I have found a beautiful flower, bird, view to make the day's walk more pleasant, just as every day I have limped over a pebble in my shoe or a thorn in my foot that makes things a little harder to deal with. But overall, my path has stretched out before me in a straight line. There has been frustration because of that - I have felt trapped and caged on the path - but there has also been comfort.
I have known what I will do each day. I am surrounded by people who love me and who lift me up high enough to keep me basically out of reach of those that will drag me down. It has been a comfortable place, if not overly exciting, and as much as I have complained about it I find myself wishing it could stay. There's a big bend in the road coming up and I am not 100% sure about where it will take me. I won't say now just what the bend looks like; it's too far off and I, myself, am not quite sure. I do know there is one coming, and while that is exciting and I have moments of wishing it sooner, I also find myself feeling just fine with the distance, and just not quite ready for it. It's an interesting thing, that bend. I can't quite describe it.
And so I think an Anne quote is appropriate here:
"When I left Queen's my future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don't know what lies around the bend, but I'm going to believe that the best does. It has a fascination of its own, that bend, Marilla." - Anne Shirley, Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery
I know on some days there will be PLENTY to write about. The issue then will be pruning so I don't overwhelm myself. And I know there will be plenty of dry patches. Unfortunately, in my effort to beat back the Writer's Block Beast I have begun my project in what feels like the middle of a desert.
I suppose that isn't quite true. There's a lot that I am thinking about, I just don't want to beat the dead horse. Because the thing is, from where I am on this journey through life I can see a bend in the road. (For those of you have read anything I have written you are probably familiar with my fascination with the Bend...It comes from my extreme love of Anne of Green Gables and, well, any book written by L.M. Montgomery. Her view of life just makes sense to me.) For so long I have seen my path stretching out before me. Yes, there have been little dips to stumble over and hills to climb. And every day I have found a beautiful flower, bird, view to make the day's walk more pleasant, just as every day I have limped over a pebble in my shoe or a thorn in my foot that makes things a little harder to deal with. But overall, my path has stretched out before me in a straight line. There has been frustration because of that - I have felt trapped and caged on the path - but there has also been comfort.
I have known what I will do each day. I am surrounded by people who love me and who lift me up high enough to keep me basically out of reach of those that will drag me down. It has been a comfortable place, if not overly exciting, and as much as I have complained about it I find myself wishing it could stay. There's a big bend in the road coming up and I am not 100% sure about where it will take me. I won't say now just what the bend looks like; it's too far off and I, myself, am not quite sure. I do know there is one coming, and while that is exciting and I have moments of wishing it sooner, I also find myself feeling just fine with the distance, and just not quite ready for it. It's an interesting thing, that bend. I can't quite describe it.
And so I think an Anne quote is appropriate here:
"When I left Queen's my future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don't know what lies around the bend, but I'm going to believe that the best does. It has a fascination of its own, that bend, Marilla." - Anne Shirley, Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Musings of Discovery
There's a certain something about the discovery of writing. It's fascinating. It's discouraging. It's enlightening, joyful, draining, beautiful...I can't quite put my finger on it.
As I go throughout my day I visit with the characters that make themselves known to me. I look around an see places they might have visited while in Santa Barbara. I overhear a snippet of conversation, or hear a tone of voice and dialogue immediately races through my head.
And then I sit down at my computer. I open up my word document to a new page, fresh with possibility. Or I open my current story and reread what I have written, hoping to discover more of the people and places. There's always something new to discover, just like in real life. Sometimes I hate the discovery - I put one story on hold for two weeks when I realized where it was going. Sometimes I have a "well, DUH" moment - I text a friend and tell them that I was obviously wrong about this thing and here is the real version. I have moments of extreme excitement - I have a big smile and have to take a break to dance around the living room.
Regardless of how I feel when I make this discovery, I can't deny the thrill that comes with it. It's as if I find myself constantly walking through an enchanted forest, pulling back the branches to reveal the light, unsure of whether I will uncover monster or fairy. And every time something is written, every time I stumble upon another discovery, a part of me is changed forever. I can't say for certain if it is changed for better or for worse - I am sure in some ways it is both. All I can say for sure is in that moment things are just a bit clearer.
I suppose C.S. Lewis stated it best when he said, "First, I do not sit down at my desk to put into verse something that is already clear in my mind. If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand."
As I go throughout my day I visit with the characters that make themselves known to me. I look around an see places they might have visited while in Santa Barbara. I overhear a snippet of conversation, or hear a tone of voice and dialogue immediately races through my head.
And then I sit down at my computer. I open up my word document to a new page, fresh with possibility. Or I open my current story and reread what I have written, hoping to discover more of the people and places. There's always something new to discover, just like in real life. Sometimes I hate the discovery - I put one story on hold for two weeks when I realized where it was going. Sometimes I have a "well, DUH" moment - I text a friend and tell them that I was obviously wrong about this thing and here is the real version. I have moments of extreme excitement - I have a big smile and have to take a break to dance around the living room.
Regardless of how I feel when I make this discovery, I can't deny the thrill that comes with it. It's as if I find myself constantly walking through an enchanted forest, pulling back the branches to reveal the light, unsure of whether I will uncover monster or fairy. And every time something is written, every time I stumble upon another discovery, a part of me is changed forever. I can't say for certain if it is changed for better or for worse - I am sure in some ways it is both. All I can say for sure is in that moment things are just a bit clearer.
I suppose C.S. Lewis stated it best when he said, "First, I do not sit down at my desk to put into verse something that is already clear in my mind. If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand."
Ode to the Blank Screen
I have had a bad case of Writer's Block lately. I see it written that way in my head, too. Capital W. Capital B. The blank screen looms in front of me and forces me to type a sentence, which never seems quite right, and is consequently erased. And so, after dinner with my parents and inspiration from my dad I present: Ode to the Blank Screen.
The little battery icon drains and I can feel my spirit begin to drain with it.
My forehead becomes my battle ram for which to hit
the desk, my computer: the keyboard, the screen
The blankness is enough to make me scream!
I sigh, I cry, I talk to my friends -
I make my way to the refrigerator, AGAIN.
What's up on Facebook? Is someone on Twitter?
I'm sure there's something on Google that I can look for.
No! Back to the screen, blank though it may be -
There may be some way to figure out how to make it reflect me.
So I think now I have finally come to
a decision on the 365 Project I'll do:
Thanks to Leaha and, of course, Mama and Dad
Project 365 will include my pen and notepad.
From now for a year, everyday will I write
whether it be in a journal, a notebook, my planner, online.
So please wish me luck to battle the Writer's Block Beast
and to have 365 new pages, at least.
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