Wow! I was just reading back over my last few posts. It's crazy how things change. When I think back over the past year it's hard to comprehend everything that took place. I can't believe I actually moved and again, I moved back. Two things I never thought I'd actually be able to follow through with. And now I don't know which one was a mistake or maybe none of it was, it was all just part of what had to be to make me who I need to be for the future. I, for sure, can't sort it out. I miss the people in Missouri, I miss spending time with my sister, I miss my house. Yet, at the same time, I'm so much happier here in ways.
I think about it all a lot. And I always come to the same conclusion. It all really did happen, as unreal as it seems, and I can't look back. I just have to quit trying to sort it all out and press forward towards the future and all the mysteries it holds. One thing I've learned, tho. You can never predict the future. It just never comes out like you think it will.
I need to start writing again.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Saturday, July 24, 2010
?
My mind is going in circles! Something like this:
I can't talk to anyone because no one would take it like I say it. They would read more into it. Even if I told them that's not how it is, they wouldn't believe me. Do I believe me? Or am I kidding myself? Maybe I'm kidding myself... See, I'm doubting it so I must be. Or am I only doubting myself because I questioned myself because other ppl would doubt it?
Why can't I just let it go, if it is what I say it is? Why is it still bothering me? Is it because it's what I say it is or is it something more? Am I capable of what I say it is?
I can't talk to anyone because no one would take it like I say it. They would read more into it. Even if I told them that's not how it is, they wouldn't believe me. Do I believe me? Or am I kidding myself? Maybe I'm kidding myself... See, I'm doubting it so I must be. Or am I only doubting myself because I questioned myself because other ppl would doubt it?
Why can't I just let it go, if it is what I say it is? Why is it still bothering me? Is it because it's what I say it is or is it something more? Am I capable of what I say it is?
Monday, June 14, 2010
Bad Day?
Do you ever have bad days? Ever feel like they're all starting to run together into a bad week? Bad month, year, life? I do. Sometimes I get so tired of hearing myself whine. "Not only did this go wrong, but this, this, and this." Like, let's see who can have the worst day....
Did you ever stop to think.. Maybe if everything's going bad I'm just looking at the wrong side of it. Maybe it's just attitude.
Do you think people who enjoy life have no problems? Is there really anyone who has the perfect life? Doesn't everyone feel lonely?
Instead of adding up all the bad things to see just how bad your day is, why not add the good things and thank God for his blessings? Then maybe you'd have a good day, week, month, life.... :)
This blog is more for me than anyone. I need a constant reminder that life is but a vapor and if you don't start enjoying it now you're gonna miss it.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Bubbles...
I was playing with Elijah the other day. I had bought all the kids bubble wands for memorial day weekend and we were playing with his. I would wave the wand and all kinds of bubbles would come floating out. Elijah would get focused on one bubble and chase after it until it popped. Even when I would call to him, trying to get him to see all the bubbles behind him, he would keep chasing that one bubble.
I think we all do that sometimes. We get so focused on that one "bubble" that we really want to catch and we miss all the other bubbles. Even when God calls to us, "look at all the other bubbles I'm sending your way", we're too focused on the bubble we want. Sometimes it's a really big bubble but sometimes it's the smallest bubble of all. But we can't see the bigger bubbles for the one we're chasing after.
I want to see all the bubbles. How 'bout you?
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Writing 2
Ok, so I've written more. Have ideas for more. From what I hear, the good writers don't write from Chapter 1 to the end, but for now.. that's how I'm writing. Maybe one day I'll be good. :)
She made her way down the busy sidewalk to the quaint bookstore on the corner. The bookstore was her escape. As she skimmed through the old books she lost herself in the imaginations of the authors. It was so easy to forget reality here. She was easily entranced by the stories, the characters becoming her friends. She laughed as they bantered, cried as they mourned, and rejoiced as they found love. Even long after she left she would think about them, as tho they were real people in her life.
But the moment never lasted. Too soon she would be forced to go home - if you could call it that - to face the harsh reality of her life. She didn't feel sorry for herself. She estimated that her life was normal, even good compared to some. She had everything she needed, physically. Food, shelter, clothing.. It was her emotional life that suffered. But emotional peace and happiness was something for fairy tales. No one is really happy in this life. Anyway, that's what she told herself. It was her only hope, her only consulation.
She'd considered her options, but none of them seemed realistic. Besides, how could she leave him? He was not capable of living on his own, no matter what he said. She knew if she left him it would only be a matter of time. He could not survive. Oh, sure, he could take care of himself. But emotionally? He would snap. He needed her. There was no other answer.
Perhaps if she were patient, time would heal him and she would be free. But how much time? It had already been almost 3 1/2 years and he seemed no better than the day after the accident. The people in the community thought he was better, thought he had moved on. He had gone back to work two weeks after the funeral. He put flowers on the grave every holiday. He had joined a church and said God was changing his life. He wanted no pity. He said God had allowed it for a reason, and who was he to argue with God? He would not even allow her to show him pity. So she, too, pretended she thought he was ok. But she knew better. She lived with him after all. She could see through his facade. He was too happy. Too holy. Too strong. And he had blocked her out. That's what told her the most. They had always been close, never keeping secrets. But the night of the accident was the last time he'd let her in.
Her mind went back to the nightmare life had made reality. The weather warnings had flashed on the tv screen, but she'd ignored them. So when the tornado hit they were completely unprepared. She could still hear the screaming through the roar of wind, and could feel the terror as the house was lifted off the foundation, knocking the couch she was sitting on over her like a shield. God, everyone said, had done a miracle. But where was God when Emma needed shelter? Emma was beaten to death by the wind and debri. She was hardly recognizable. While Mari, herself, was hardly scratched. Why had she ignored the warnings? If she had Emma might still be with them! But Mark always said God must've needed Emma in heaven. If Mark could survive on such pretenses, who was she to shatter his world? But a God who would take a two year old baby, while protecting it's mother? This was not a God she cared to know about.
She made her way down the busy sidewalk to the quaint bookstore on the corner. The bookstore was her escape. As she skimmed through the old books she lost herself in the imaginations of the authors. It was so easy to forget reality here. She was easily entranced by the stories, the characters becoming her friends. She laughed as they bantered, cried as they mourned, and rejoiced as they found love. Even long after she left she would think about them, as tho they were real people in her life.
But the moment never lasted. Too soon she would be forced to go home - if you could call it that - to face the harsh reality of her life. She didn't feel sorry for herself. She estimated that her life was normal, even good compared to some. She had everything she needed, physically. Food, shelter, clothing.. It was her emotional life that suffered. But emotional peace and happiness was something for fairy tales. No one is really happy in this life. Anyway, that's what she told herself. It was her only hope, her only consulation.
She'd considered her options, but none of them seemed realistic. Besides, how could she leave him? He was not capable of living on his own, no matter what he said. She knew if she left him it would only be a matter of time. He could not survive. Oh, sure, he could take care of himself. But emotionally? He would snap. He needed her. There was no other answer.
Perhaps if she were patient, time would heal him and she would be free. But how much time? It had already been almost 3 1/2 years and he seemed no better than the day after the accident. The people in the community thought he was better, thought he had moved on. He had gone back to work two weeks after the funeral. He put flowers on the grave every holiday. He had joined a church and said God was changing his life. He wanted no pity. He said God had allowed it for a reason, and who was he to argue with God? He would not even allow her to show him pity. So she, too, pretended she thought he was ok. But she knew better. She lived with him after all. She could see through his facade. He was too happy. Too holy. Too strong. And he had blocked her out. That's what told her the most. They had always been close, never keeping secrets. But the night of the accident was the last time he'd let her in.
Her mind went back to the nightmare life had made reality. The weather warnings had flashed on the tv screen, but she'd ignored them. So when the tornado hit they were completely unprepared. She could still hear the screaming through the roar of wind, and could feel the terror as the house was lifted off the foundation, knocking the couch she was sitting on over her like a shield. God, everyone said, had done a miracle. But where was God when Emma needed shelter? Emma was beaten to death by the wind and debri. She was hardly recognizable. While Mari, herself, was hardly scratched. Why had she ignored the warnings? If she had Emma might still be with them! But Mark always said God must've needed Emma in heaven. If Mark could survive on such pretenses, who was she to shatter his world? But a God who would take a two year old baby, while protecting it's mother? This was not a God she cared to know about.
Writing
I have a dream of writing, as you may know. I have written a few things and I think I could do well with it, but I freeze because my mind won't stop editing. I need to just let my thoughts flow onto "paper" and stop worrying about whether or not they're perfect.
I thought I'd try a writing exercise on you. I have no idea what I'm going to write about. Even at this very moment, I have not a clue. here goes nothing.....
She made her way down the busy sidewalk to the quaint bookstore on the corner. The bookstore was her escape. As she skimmed through the old books she lost herself in the imaginations of the authors. It was so easy to forget reality here. She was easily entranced by the stories, the characters becoming her friends. She laughed as they bantered, cried as they mourned, and rejoiced as they found love. Even long after she left she would think about them, as tho they were real people in her life.
I continued writing after this, but it was taking me down a dark trail, one that I couldn't leave hanging... So once I can bring some sort of satisfaction for the reader, I will post the rest. :)
I thought I'd try a writing exercise on you. I have no idea what I'm going to write about. Even at this very moment, I have not a clue. here goes nothing.....
She made her way down the busy sidewalk to the quaint bookstore on the corner. The bookstore was her escape. As she skimmed through the old books she lost herself in the imaginations of the authors. It was so easy to forget reality here. She was easily entranced by the stories, the characters becoming her friends. She laughed as they bantered, cried as they mourned, and rejoiced as they found love. Even long after she left she would think about them, as tho they were real people in her life.
I continued writing after this, but it was taking me down a dark trail, one that I couldn't leave hanging... So once I can bring some sort of satisfaction for the reader, I will post the rest. :)
Monday, May 10, 2010
Sick and Bored
Warning: may contain whining and self-pity.
I'm so bored! And my house is a wreck.. *hush, Amy* And I ache all over!!! I meant to take some ibuprofen but I forgot to get it before I sat down and now I don't feel like getting up. I took a bath, but I kept feeling like I was going to smother for some reason. I'd start falling asleep and then I'd feel all panicky because I couldn't breath. It was very strange.
Anyway.. I could write, but I don't really feel like writing.
Nettie and Chris are probably coming to bring stuff for my cellar due to possible tornados tonight. I really hope there's no tornados. I don't feel like getting out.
I need to drink some water. And I need some chapstick. My lips hurt real bad!
I'm so bored! And my house is a wreck.. *hush, Amy* And I ache all over!!! I meant to take some ibuprofen but I forgot to get it before I sat down and now I don't feel like getting up. I took a bath, but I kept feeling like I was going to smother for some reason. I'd start falling asleep and then I'd feel all panicky because I couldn't breath. It was very strange.
Anyway.. I could write, but I don't really feel like writing.
Nettie and Chris are probably coming to bring stuff for my cellar due to possible tornados tonight. I really hope there's no tornados. I don't feel like getting out.
I need to drink some water. And I need some chapstick. My lips hurt real bad!
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