This New Day

This is my favorite place in the world so far... I guess it's not really a "place," more like an occurrence. But I love it when I have some free time, a cup of coffee nearby, and a computer in front of me, waiting for me to write. Sometimes the computer is replaced by the old-fashioned journal-and-pen, but you get the gist. :)

Life got a little nuts for me this month, but I think I'm starting to get my thoughts in order again, and that's a very good thing. Today I'm happy to be alive... not just okay with it, but happy. Previously I was only okay with it, so this is definitely an improvement. I think I started forgetting about the really important things and it was really getting me down...

So I'm working on coming back to life, and in time, healing my motivation. I used to be an artist, and volunteer regularly, and I used to go walking just for fun, and I used to read a lot, and plan fun events where people could get together, and write little notes for people, and all sorts of things I never do anymore. I don't know why I never do them anymore, but I want to change it all immediately. Is it weird to miss yourself? Because I think I miss myself a little bit.

Somewhere along the way I got caught up in an aspect of life I never intended to be caught up in, and it's a very dark place. Somehow I started coping with life instead of living it, and managing relationships instead of enjoying them. I started trying to figure everything and everyone out instead of appreciating them for who they are. I started trying to save people instead of simply loving them, and letting Christ do what he does best...

Basically, I've been trying to do life on my own, to make my life stable on my own, to fit all the pieces together, and write my own story, and fashion my own happy ending... make my dreams come to life somehow. And I've been miserable, because that's not possible. I don't really know what I was thinking. But the important thing is, I know better now, and I can see a little more clearly, and I can be working on changing things instead of giving up and accepting them.

I can't change the past, but I can try to do today a little better, and tomorrow even better than that. I don't really know where to start, but maybe things will become even more clear as I move in the direction I know I'm supposed to be moving in.

At least I can start the day off with hope. That seems to be such a rare thing in this world. But hope moves people when it is allowed to bloom. You can't ignore it when it has come alive in someone... and that's what I want most of all right now. To let hope live in me in such a way that it becomes contagious to the people around me... What a beautiful thing that would be!

I can't say I don't regret where I've been walking lately, but this is a new day, and all the old days have passed away and won't be coming back. There is consolation in that, if nothing else. And this day, this brand new day, is saturated with possibility...

In Search of a Story

Hello, friends.

I'm a little lonely tonight, with a lot on my mind.

I've spent the past couple of hours (oh, who am I kidding? More like 3 or 4!) looking for jobs in Chatty, reading random blog postings, watching J.K. Rowling interviews on YouTube... who could ask for more on a Saturday night?

I can't help but wish inspiration would hit me. Books used to come so easily when I was a child. And even a teenager. In fact, I think I could write well until I went to college and learned the format of an essay. It was all downhill from there. I try to give my writing structure, and it all falls apart. For some reason, my creativity got squashed in college and has not yet made a full recovery. I'm still seeking answers as to why.

Still, my best work is definitely my journal. Not this one, but my personal journal, hand-written, which I've been keeping since I was like 11 or something. There I have been so brutally honest. Here, I have to watch what I say... so it doesn't offend anyone, or get to the wrong ears, or encourage some internet scumbag to continue his stalking habits. Here, everything is fairly well edited, and though I don't have a true "structure" I feel like I lose a lot in the quest to be acceptable to all audiences. Although I still want to be a writer, more than anything, I wonder sometimes how published writers do it. Perhaps I am not yet mature enough to have learned the balance of diplomacy and honest commentary on universal issues.

If only I could write both honestly and for the public. Supposedly I can... you know, Freedom of Speech and all, but I am not yet prepared to live with the consequences of writing fearlessly. I have let a select few people read some of my personal journal entries and it was one of the scariest things I have ever done. Those who have read what I write when I am writing straight from the heart have saturated me with praise. I don't know what to do with this. I have been told I am a born writer. All I know is, it is the one thing I cannot live without. To me, it is like oxygen... or dark chocolate.

I guess what I am trying to say is that I am searching for my story. All my life I have been seeking it, and I had hoped it would come by now. J.K. Rowling was 25 when Harry Potter appeared to her on the train. I can only hope and pray that my story finds me soon.

I am thirsty for the writing life, though I know it will be a hard road. One of my dearest friends told me this week that I need to start at least writing articles, sending them out to magazines, and begin my collection of rejection letters. I know she is right, I just don't know what to write about yet. But I think I'm supposed to be a writer, if there is such a thing as "supposed to be," because none of these other jobs sound even close to what I really want.

Do you think God has a plan for my life and if I'm living it right I'll find my way into the writing life? Or did He give me the gift of writing and leave me here to figure it all out on my own? Am I missing something here? Is it just not time yet, or is there something wrong with me that blocks my motivation to write for publication right now?

Then again, though I may not feel it these days, I am pretty young. Most writers don't get published until they're in their 40's, and still more aren't published until after their death. That's a comforting thought. That means I'll have to have some lousy career for the rest of my life, and keep writing without knowing whether it will ever have meaning for anyone.

But I will keep writing. I know that much. I don't really care if I never get any recognition for it. I know in my heart that I'm supposed to write, that I love to write, and that I cannot not write. Maybe a publisher will choose to see that in my lifetime and maybe not, but it won't really matter either way.

I will be a writer either way. ever in search of my great story...

Serenity... later?

So, I just tried this Guatemala roast coffee from Starbucks, and man, is it awesome! My morning just got a little better. I was having a pretty lousy morning, actually, and considered not even making coffee, but now I'm glad I did. True story. I'm going to stop, though, before I start sounding like those stupid McDonald's commercials that are like "Susan didn't know she had feet until she tried our coffee... now she walks everywhere!" Whoever came up with that ad campaign deserves a unique and painful experience. Maybe not death, but at least a painful experience of some sort.

Maybe I should go into advertising. I could sell things to college students with an ad like: "We're not going to tell you that something deep inside you needs this product, in fact, you probably don't need it at all, but if you're going to buy it anyway, buy it from us, because it's cheap!" I would buy from people like that. When you're in college (or just out of), every cent saved is one cent closer to a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger. Mmmmm.

So today will be the 11th day in a row that I have worked at my retail job. Sunday is my first day off in a long time. I'm like 98% sure I'm going to quit; the 2% is waiting to confirm with the school that I'll have a job with them through the end of the summer. I'll be able to save some money that way, and either put a down payment on an apartment closer to my dream job that I'm certain to get by August, or spend the money on a plane ticket overseas, to meet a very nice, patient, and unassuming family who wants me to live with them, spend their money, and occasionally babysit while I learn about their culture.

In all seriousness, though, I have been looking for Au Pair jobs. I think it could be cool to go overseas for a year as an Au Pair, and learn about other cultures and ways of life (maybe another language while I help them with English??). But then, it could be a complete disaster, and you pretty much have to take that risk. I'm trying to be realistic while not castrating my dreams and it is a tough balance. Some of the things I want are so outrageously impractical, but if I only live a "practical" life I am miserable too. I wonder where I'm supposed to fit in this world?

But as cyncial as I may be, I can't deny that this is an amazing place, full of mystery and challenge and romance and beauty. That's why I would like to experience more of it. I'm a little afraid... afraid of spending my entire life stuck in some city, sitting among my piles of junk, wishing I had the courage it would take to sell my stuff and get out, and go anywhere. I don't even go downtown Chattanooga by myself. No wonder I feel I have nothing worth writing about!

I suppose I am a Romantic through and through, despite my best efforts to be sensible. But there's a place for us as well, I think it just takes a little longer for us to find our fit because this culture seems to be run by practical, career-driven people. But last month I met this awesome hippie lady who makes incredibly beautiful jewelry and sells it at fairs, and from a little store in her basement, to raise money for an orphanage in Guatemala. I bought some of her earrings and told her I'd pray for the orphanage whenever I wear them, and so far I have remembered to. We talked for a long time, and she was very encouraging, saying that when she was about my age, in the 70's, she lived in her car and sold jewelry so she'd have something to eat.

At first I felt inspired to go out and buy and old VW van and turn it into an art studio, like I've always wanted, and then I realized that it was her contentment that attracted me so much, not just her Bohemian lifestyle. Eventually she found herself. She said she never fit the mold of a career lady and could never hold down a "traditional" job, but that she was happy, through and through, and had found a life of serenity and contentment. She spends months raising money for the orphanage, then goes down and helps out for a few months, then comes back to America and raises more money, etc. Her creations clearly show that she spends a lot of time on them, pays attention to detail, and desires to make something lasting. The best part is, her life work is not really the beads and clasps and wires she works with, but the children whose lives are changed because she cares enough give what she can for them.

I think what I most want is to be a writer who creates something influential and lasting. I don't care so much about personal immortality, but I do care that what I create is something of value, something that reflects the beauty and mystery and hope in this world. I hope that, 30 years from now (and sooner, if possible!), I will be able to say that I have found a life of serenity and contentment, and rest in the knowledge that I have created something beautiful to leave behind. That's something the people who make ads for McDonald's can't say for themselves, however monetarily rich they must be by now.

I think that achieving the kind of life that I hope for will require a decent amount of risk, which I have never been good at. Maybe going overseas will be a first step...?

The New Blog

Hi everyone!

I finally started a blog. I'll be completely honest, though, I'm a little nervous about all of this. I'm trying to decide what exactly I will write about from day to day. Do I have anything important to say? Will any of this help me towards becoming a published author? Maybe... because in a way it is practice. Maybe I shouldn't take it all so seriously, though.

As one of my English professors in college was always saying, it is difficult to write anything unless you have an audience in mind. I don't really know my audience. Family and friends, and curious readers, yes, but that is a broad audience base. I guess I'm having a hard time figuring out what my purpose for writing is. Maybe that is why I haven't written creatively for a "public audience" in a long time.

I'm reading an awesome book called The Artist's Way by... well, I don't know who it's by. The book is lying around here somewhere and I'll find it and give you the author then. I'm a little bit of a messy person naturally, and all of that is compounded by my recent move into a new apartment. Then the mess really comes out. You know, because all you really need is one stupid shirt, but you have to go through five suitcases to find it! Yesterday it was the coffee stirs (coffee stirs or coffee stirrers? Hmm), and a knife to cut chicken with. And then you pull out stuff, and don't put it back, because you want your cup of coffee so you can freakin' relax for two minutes! Or, you have to get dinner going because one of the people you're having over has to be somewhere at 7:00.

I think I'm not very good at coordinating things, though I am quite good at ideas. See, moving was a good idea. I'm struggling with the unpacking part. Maybe that's a stretch, though. Maybe, in reality, I'm just a wee bit lazy. :)

Anyway, this book, The Artist's Way, I would highly recommend to anyone wanting to reconnect with their creative side. One of the things that has helped me most is the daily "morning pages" assignment. Though, I must admit, I haven't kept up with them daily. But the funny thing is, I have discovered that my day goes just a little better when I have written my three pages in the morning! Actually, I cheat and don't look at how many pages I have written, but how long I have to write. So, before work, I'll set my self 30 minutes or an hour or whatever.

I'll write more on this book later, but there's my plug for it for now. I think I'm going to peruse other people's blogs online for awhile and get an idea of what they're supposed to be like. Wish me luck...