I'd like it better if that abbreviation stood for "post scriptum." But that is not the case.
Thank You, Jesus, for bringing me thus far and putting me through this time of purification and strengthening. It's only by Your grace that I could ever make it, and I only want to go forward, ever forward for You. Thank You for stripping away, and for continuing to strip and tear away anything that would come between us.
I love the relationship we share; it's beautiful, strengthening, wonderful, comforting, enlightening, and empowering. I know it'll only get better as I grow, change, and mature in You. Sometimes I forget and neglect what we share, but You're always around to remind me of my need for You.
You complete me, for without You, I am useless, broken, lonely, dead, empty; a body without its soul. You are my Life and all that I need to survive and thrive. You are enough.
30 November 2007
25 November 2007
There's no "ph" in "stuff" 8:04 PM
It's been a busy week, it has. I really haven't worked on my novel; it's just sitting there crying, feeling my neglect. I plan to give it some love tonight, even though I won't have it completed by next week's deadline. At least I got it started.
I've found my prose muse again, and I'm writing up some stuff and hoping that I won't be afraid to let the world see. I used to be more bold, but I'm tired of feeling like I'm shouting in an empty room. I've taken a walk outside, I've breathed clean air and felt the sun on my face. I'm ready to write, stronger and better than before. It feels good to break out of the conventional way of doing things.
My family came to visit this week. It was great to see them all again, they're growing up so fast, changing so much in such a short time it seems. I'm proud of them for the good changes they made, and praying for them for the challenges they face.
I'm working on a short story titled "My Dear Child." I know I'm supposed to be working on The Familiar Stranger, but the inspiration for this story just hit me and I was compelled to devote myself to it. I like this story, it's coming out in an informal style with a bit of irony, mystery, and sorrow.
I've found my prose muse again, and I'm writing up some stuff and hoping that I won't be afraid to let the world see. I used to be more bold, but I'm tired of feeling like I'm shouting in an empty room. I've taken a walk outside, I've breathed clean air and felt the sun on my face. I'm ready to write, stronger and better than before. It feels good to break out of the conventional way of doing things.
My family came to visit this week. It was great to see them all again, they're growing up so fast, changing so much in such a short time it seems. I'm proud of them for the good changes they made, and praying for them for the challenges they face.
I'm working on a short story titled "My Dear Child." I know I'm supposed to be working on The Familiar Stranger, but the inspiration for this story just hit me and I was compelled to devote myself to it. I like this story, it's coming out in an informal style with a bit of irony, mystery, and sorrow.
24 November 2007
Tomorrow, I'll Love You Tomorrow 2:44 AM
You knew that someday I'd come to the inevitable and frightening realization: I like being alone.
I love long walks by the beach. I love the thrill of perching myself high atop a man-made or natural elevation. I love to sit and watch the sun set until the full moon bathes the world in an ethereal glow.
I love to breathe the cool night air and listen to the music of the eventide. I love waking with the sun to treasure every sliver of light it sends my way. I love to stroll aimlessly around town, through parks, in and out of buildings; past groups of giggling girls, old people, couples, children, everyone, no one noticing me.
I enjoy all these things, and I enjoy them alone.
I never give it a second thought. Company is a luxury. I go about my day in the manner that I always have, and I can say that I feel complete when the day is over. But at night, lying alone in bed, nature turns on me, and all my confidence is banished. I think of you, and I realize how I unwittingly brush you aside, and in the process, hurt you.
Please look inside. Deep down, beneath all that I am outwardly. Reach out and bring it to the forefront, make me see the truth. Could I really live this life alone?
Thank you for standing beside me. Even when I ignored you, even when I forgot you, you never gave up on me. Persist another day, because I can't keep turning my head away. One day you'll triumph, and we'll both win. On that day, I will love you.
I love long walks by the beach. I love the thrill of perching myself high atop a man-made or natural elevation. I love to sit and watch the sun set until the full moon bathes the world in an ethereal glow.
I love to breathe the cool night air and listen to the music of the eventide. I love waking with the sun to treasure every sliver of light it sends my way. I love to stroll aimlessly around town, through parks, in and out of buildings; past groups of giggling girls, old people, couples, children, everyone, no one noticing me.
I enjoy all these things, and I enjoy them alone.
I never give it a second thought. Company is a luxury. I go about my day in the manner that I always have, and I can say that I feel complete when the day is over. But at night, lying alone in bed, nature turns on me, and all my confidence is banished. I think of you, and I realize how I unwittingly brush you aside, and in the process, hurt you.
Please look inside. Deep down, beneath all that I am outwardly. Reach out and bring it to the forefront, make me see the truth. Could I really live this life alone?
Thank you for standing beside me. Even when I ignored you, even when I forgot you, you never gave up on me. Persist another day, because I can't keep turning my head away. One day you'll triumph, and we'll both win. On that day, I will love you.
16 November 2007
I'm going to be a novelist! 3:38 PM
To all of you who ever encouraged me to write a book, I hope you will be pleased with these news.
I will be writing a novel for this months' National Novel Writing Month. The novel is based on an idea that's been in my head for way too long now. You may have heard me reference an allegory of mine titled The Familiar Stranger. Well, I have the plot outline, main characters, and some research done, but I've never actually written a first draft. I guess my tendency to procrastinate and the pedantic handling of my creative endeavors has hindered me so far. No longer! Tonight, I write!
I'm not quite sure if I'll be able to finish my novel before the given deadline, as I began writing about a week and a half late. What I am writing is a very rough first draft, so I don't imagine I'll be releasing it to the general public. I'm pretty psyched about writing this novel, even though it's based on a dark time in my life, and some parts are somewhat painful to put on paper. The general genre I'm aiming for is Gothic/Mystery.
And now it's time to start writing away.
I will be writing a novel for this months' National Novel Writing Month. The novel is based on an idea that's been in my head for way too long now. You may have heard me reference an allegory of mine titled The Familiar Stranger. Well, I have the plot outline, main characters, and some research done, but I've never actually written a first draft. I guess my tendency to procrastinate and the pedantic handling of my creative endeavors has hindered me so far. No longer! Tonight, I write!
I'm not quite sure if I'll be able to finish my novel before the given deadline, as I began writing about a week and a half late. What I am writing is a very rough first draft, so I don't imagine I'll be releasing it to the general public. I'm pretty psyched about writing this novel, even though it's based on a dark time in my life, and some parts are somewhat painful to put on paper. The general genre I'm aiming for is Gothic/Mystery.
And now it's time to start writing away.
09 November 2007
Adieu 8:41 AM
"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on." - Robert Frost
06 November 2007
02 November 2007
The Development of Writing 3:03 AM
I suppose some of you are wondering about the lack of updates. You know that I have my own laptop, a decent amount of free time, a working knowledge of writing, and the creativity and desire to write. Why then, are updates terse and at irregular intervals?
In reality, the amount of articles and pieces of prose I've written has not declined, they just haven't been released. Why? Why? WHY? Oh, geez, calm down. See, I'm going through a stage in which I am my biggest critic; I write something up and then tear it to shreds. Figuratively, of course. I am not a violent person by nature. I am, however, subject to arbitrary outbursts in which I yell "No, Mummy, no NAP!!" But I digress.
For the longest time I was content to throw out my material in extemporaneous fashion, however; in light of my commitment to take my writing more seriously, I tend to review my compositions with a scrutiny that is at times overdone. You might wonder, "Why not just recount the days events or rant on a trite subject in an informal style that many bloggers enjoy?" I say...Hey, there's an idea.
Well, I've been there, done that. I used to write in a style that could have merited titling my blog Reflections of a Prepubescent Boy.
"Jane."
"See Jane."
"See Jane run."
"Jane has nice legs."
Thankfully, I came to the conclusion that that wasn't really for me; I like to create interesting and engaging reading, not just scribble on the sidewalk. Although there is a time and place for sidewalk scribbling, is has got to have some value to it, Amen, people?
Wow, that sounds pretty self-righteous and condescending. I apologize. It does have a ring of truth to it, though, so take it cum grano salis, with a grain of salt, fellows.
I have by no means arrived at a point in my writing where I am so skilled that I can just sit on a pedestal and shout AHA! whenever someone makes a mistake. Mistakes is how we learn, and my writing is still full of them. But I'm fixin' to git goin' with my writin' so I's can makes somethin' worthwhile. And that ladies and gentlemen, is something everyone can enjoy. (The determination to create successful compositions, not a phony southern accent, amigos.)
In reality, the amount of articles and pieces of prose I've written has not declined, they just haven't been released. Why? Why? WHY? Oh, geez, calm down. See, I'm going through a stage in which I am my biggest critic; I write something up and then tear it to shreds. Figuratively, of course. I am not a violent person by nature. I am, however, subject to arbitrary outbursts in which I yell "No, Mummy, no NAP!!" But I digress.
For the longest time I was content to throw out my material in extemporaneous fashion, however; in light of my commitment to take my writing more seriously, I tend to review my compositions with a scrutiny that is at times overdone. You might wonder, "Why not just recount the days events or rant on a trite subject in an informal style that many bloggers enjoy?" I say...Hey, there's an idea.
Well, I've been there, done that. I used to write in a style that could have merited titling my blog Reflections of a Prepubescent Boy.
"Jane."
"See Jane."
"See Jane run."
"Jane has nice legs."
Thankfully, I came to the conclusion that that wasn't really for me; I like to create interesting and engaging reading, not just scribble on the sidewalk. Although there is a time and place for sidewalk scribbling, is has got to have some value to it, Amen, people?
Wow, that sounds pretty self-righteous and condescending. I apologize. It does have a ring of truth to it, though, so take it cum grano salis, with a grain of salt, fellows.
I have by no means arrived at a point in my writing where I am so skilled that I can just sit on a pedestal and shout AHA! whenever someone makes a mistake. Mistakes is how we learn, and my writing is still full of them. But I'm fixin' to git goin' with my writin' so I's can makes somethin' worthwhile. And that ladies and gentlemen, is something everyone can enjoy. (The determination to create successful compositions, not a phony southern accent, amigos.)