10 Days till Christmas

Christmas is love
Love of family
Love of humanity
God's love given a face
Chistmas is not feeling alone
Friends and family
Churches and choirs
God with us
Christmas is celebration
Hope and light
Finding and giving
God making all things new

I have no delusions about that being a good poem (Do I even dare call
it a poem?), but I wanted something I could write quickly tonight. It
finally feelslike Christmas season to me. But it doesn't feel like it
to many people. And how are we supposed to celebrate with the recent
deaths? We can celebrate the life those people did have a chance to
live. They might not have been long lives--all of them cut too short--
but all of those lives did matter and make a difference. They will be
loved and remembered. With sadness and warmth. When we let fear
control our lives and lose our hope, that is when evil wins.
So love. Love more this season than you ever have before. Be even
kinder and more giving to everyone. Pay for the person behind you in
line. Smile when you walk by people. Ask how people are and really
listen. Tell people you love them and hug them. Do it out of
overflowing love.

11 Days till Christmas (sort of)

            Okay, so it’s after midnight, so technically it’s 10 days till Christmas, but I haven’t written my 11 yet. And any and all mistakes, I blame on it being 1:30 am and it’s getting to the point where I’m weird in sleep deprivation (I’m yawning but not tired).

            Caroling for Cans was a great success. I haven’t counted how many nonperishable food items we collected, but we had fun and spread the joy. And there’s nothing like talking to friends for three hours about God and how there’s no shame. It’s an amazing reminder that we are not alone. We all go through similar things. There are times when I try to sound really positive because I’m a Christian, I should be happy 24-7-365, right? Because David totally was? And so was everyone in the Bible. The truth is when we ostracize ourselves because of how we feel, we are ostracizing others too. We all can relate to each other. We’re a lot more alike than we are different.

            And to tie it in more with Christmas than just caroling, there are those Christmas songs everybody knows. And there are those favorite Christmas songs that it seems only we know. Whether we like them or hate them, know them or not, we still all know the feeling of Christmas. I know there are people who’ve never celebrated Christmas or maybe never heard the songs, but there is that love that we all feel. You know what I mean? (If not, I’m blaming it on needing sleep).

            Good night! Hope your dreams are sweet and lead you where you need to be.

Nina Simone

I love Nina Simone. She was brave and free. She strove for perfection until she decided that freedom was more important (“I had spent many years pursuing excellence, because that is what classical music is all about... Now it was dedicated to freedom, and that was far more important.”). I love the way her voice moans, cracks, floats, yells, flies. I wouldn’t say that she has a pretty voice. Sometimes it’s hideous. But it is always beautiful. It always has an unbelievable amount of heart in it, whether that heart is breaking or bubbling with love. Then you had her piano playing. It’s just like her voice. Pianos are rarely as expressive as when she plays. She wasn’t afraid to use its full range.

            I’m having a Nina Simone kind of day. The news about Newtown, CT school shooting (It went beyond the school, but I don’t know what else to call it), is horrifying and devastating and heartbreaking. There are no words for it. There are no songs that can capture the feelings either. Images might as well be blank. There are times when nothing but silence where a beating heart and the fall of tears are the only things that can even begin to express something. This world has become obsessed with words and images and songs, but there are becoming more and more events that all of those fall short.

            Maybe even thoughts and prayers seem to be useless. But prayer is never useless. It is always heard and always felt. Maybe you wonder how God could let this happen. He didn’t. God did not want this to happen. God is good and everything that comes from Him is good. This is not from God. God is all powerful, but there are battles going on around us. If we could see these battles, we might begin to understand. But as things are now, as we see and try to comprehend now, there is no understanding. But there is peace beyond understanding. There is love beyond tragedy.

            Today I am so thankful that I am alive. I am so thankful that it hurts because that means I care and love and am human. I’m not thankful that there is pain. My heart is broken for all affected by the shooting that happened today. I’ll be praying for the students, the teachers, parents, families, first responders, volunteers, and families.

 

 

Feelings, Nina Simone: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mH5ZE3N8cxU

12 Days till Christmas

Oh, right. Writing. That thing I haven’t been doing too much of lately. I could make excuses, we all know how busy holiday season is.

            Ever wonder when the holiday season did get so busy? When I was little it was just a fun time. Then when I did have lots of concerts and stuff around the holiday season, it was still a lot of fun because it was about sharing the joy. This year doesn’t seem quite as blissful. I’m still sharing the Christmas joy through music and gift giving, but I feel less of the joy myself.

            I miss when Christmas movies had to do with the spirit of the holidays. So many of the newer ones are just more convenient to have around holiday time. I’m not usually one to cry at movies, but I could use a good movie that makes me want to cry. I want to be reminded of my humanity and inspired to do better in life, not just do better at coming across the right guy and falling in love. I’ll admit, usually I like the Christmas love stories, but they aren’t enough this year.

            Tomorrow I’ll be going caroling for cans with some friends. For those who don’t know, caroling for cans is just like door to door caroling but you ask for non-perishable food donations for the local food bank. It’s a lot of fun, spreads Christmas cheer, and is for a good cause. But can I be honest? I’m not as excited about it as I have been in the past. As soon as we get out there, I’ll be happy. But right now I’m thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve sung and wondering if it’ll be cold. Is it weird that I want it to snow while we’re out? It doesn’t feel like Christmas without snow.

            When I was about 10 years old, it wasn’t snowing so I watched the snow on my family’s screen saver while drinking hot chocolate. No, I think it was hot Tang because two off things made it better (Don’t shot down hot Tang until you try it. Just prepare Tang as you normally would but in a microwavable mug and microwave it. I guess you could do water heated over the stove, but that just seems silly). So, I guess I’ve always liked snow. I’ve definitely liked it around the holidays. I’ll wait to tell you about when I came to love snow on Wednesday. It’ll be much more fitting.

            Anyway, I’ll be counting down the 12 days till Christmas by sharing things about the Holiday or writing short stories that relate to it. Christmas is usually my favorite time of year. Once it starts feeling more like Christmas, I’ll be feeling better. I hope you all are having a happy holiday season!

Romance Novels

            Yeah, any guys who read this—beware! (It’d be really nice to know who my audience is wink, wink. But I guess the not knowing is kind of nice. I don’t have to worry about writing something uninteresting to you or offending you.) (and guys, you don't really need to beware. I just think that's the first thing that I guy would think when he hears the words "romance novel") I’m going to talk about the dreaded romance novels.

            In my mind, romance novels are somewhere between a woman’s best enemy and her worst friend. They are empowering and totally destructive. I guess it also depends on what kind of romance novel they are too… Mainly my experience with them have been the historical fiction ones (Harlequin Historical, maybe?). I’m definitely no expert on romance novels or feminism or how the romance genre affects women. I just know my experience and what I believe.

            Romance novels give a reflection of truth while spinning total lies at the same time. Let’s look at Twilight. It is not only fantasy that vampires and werewolves exist, but the romance is a boat load of fantasy. Sorry, there’s no high school girl who is ready for that level of attraction. He fricken stalks her and watches her sleep without her knowing it! No, there is no romance in that. They are both obsessed, which does happen in high school. But there is a thick line between obsession and love. There is no “one and only”. There is no “forever and ever”. There is the one you love and there is the lifetime you have to spend with them (Oh, I believe in heaven, but I’m going to be a bit too amazed at the glory of God to care too much about who I married. I’m just going to want to worship forever!).

            Then there is the even more common mistake in romance novels between lust and love. Don’t get me wrong, I love that the two love each other’s bodies. That’s good and important. But when they’re jumping into bed before they know how they and/or the other person feels, that’s not healthy. And more often than not, right after the sex of night together, there’s a fight. Doubts boil over and the characters are starting to have regrets. Hmm, think those were preventable by an honest conversation? There’s always still some secret. Yes, let’s look at get naked and be intimate, but only physically. Emotionally, I’m going to stay fully dressed and aloof. That’s love, right?

            You want to know what’s totally seductive to me? Les Miserables. The Elderly are Made to go out When Convenient. Jean Valjean still has his arm in a sling (the end of the chapter). There is so much love and romance happening there. The first one is when Marius and Cosset finally get to talk because they have been admiring each other from a distance, in love since they first really saw each other. The first thing that comes out of Marius’s mouth? Ramblings. Then they sit in the garden and just talk about everything until “These two hearts poured themselves put to each other, so that at the end of an hour, it was the young man who had the girl’s soul and the girl who had the soul of the young man… When they had finished, when they had told each other everything, she laid her head on his shoulder, and asked him: ‘What is your name?’” I love that. What’s a name when you know everything about him because he told you it all and you shared yourself right back. They don’t know the first thing about romance, but why would they need to?

            The second chapter I mentioned, the last part is their wedding night. I don’t care how good of a love scene is in a bodice ripper novel, just give me some good old fashioned Hugo. I’d rather have angels, light, and joy than undressing and touching. I don’t need to know what happened behind closed doors, I just want to know that it was love and it was pure.

Monday

Monday

Up

            Five am
Laundry
            Four loads
Vacuum
            Three rooms
Cook
            Two meals
Snitch
            One cookie
Fun
            All day

Okay, not all true but I thought the countdown was kind of fun. Yeah, short but at least I wrote today, right? I’ll try harder tomorrow…

Once upon a time…

            There was a girl that spent her days looking out her window. As she grew up, she became afraid of the world because of the stories her mother told her, but the woman pretending to be her mother was really an evil witch who stole the girl when she was just a baby (yeah, I need to learn to name characters when they first show up. But this is free writing and I’m not caring about mistakes. Ha! So, let’s call the girl Emma and the witch Zeno).

            Emma became so afraid of the real world that she even stopped looking out the windows. By the time she was 15, all the windows had thick curtains over them. And when she was 18, the curtains were replaced with boards nailed to the window frames. Zeno was delighted. She did not want Emma to be interested in the world. At first it was because she was afraid that Emma might be recognized and Emma would be taken away from her. But as Emma grew up it became obvious that Emma was growing more obvious that she was growing more beautiful every day.

            Zeno knew the cruelty of the world for being judged by her disturbing appearance. But she also knew that the world can be just as cruet to beauty in a different way. She had grown to love Emma and did not want her to be hurt thus.

 

Yeah, that’s good for now. Sorry if you want more writing. My life has just been a bit… My mind has been busy with other things. I’ll try to get better about writing, and hopefully it’ll be things you will like. Until next time.

Thankful

            It’s been a while. Thanksgiving was busy. But all of life is busy. I feel like Thanksgiving has lost some of its meaning. And I’m not just talking about the commercialism. I spent no time on that day really reflecting on what I am thankful for. As family arrived, I was glad to see them. It was about family and it was about food. I wish I had had some time alone to just sit and be happy for what I have.

            Recently I have become more aware of the fact that people rarely relax anymore. Yeah, we get lots of lazy time watching TV or reading books—that that those times are necessarily bad or unproductive. It’s just, when was the last time you just sat and talked to someone? Not planning to do something while eating, talking on the phone, or watching a movie with them, but letting them have your undivided attention face to face. I know I almost always have objectives when I talk to people. I want to learn more about them, I want to make plans, I want to talk about certain things. Again, those aren’t always bad but why do I feel like I need them? My Thanksgiving weekend was filled with eating, board games, and playing games on tablets and phones. It was done together, but how together were we really?

            We are a multitasking world nowadays. If we don’t know a little bit about everything we are considered “not well rounded”. There are often TVs in our gyms, kitchens, and bedrooms. If our phones can’t do almost everything they are nicknamed “dumb phones”. And with “smart phones” it is near impossible for us to leave behind the world that is not right in front of us. We have mastered being in two places at once. What are we missing by doing so?

            And I am no better than anyone else. I don’t have a smart phone, but part of me does want one. I told people “Happy Thanksgiving!” but forgot to be thankful. I went shopping on Black Friday and wanted more than I have (wanted things I may or may not need). I was distracted by cleaning and pleasing people instead of being with them. To the point where showering felt more like a break and quiet time than getting ready and cleaning up time.

            We go on retreats and vacations to get away from things or to visit people. Why can’t we live every day like that? Why don’t we live everyday seeing all the good that is in front of us? I want to smile at every person I see. I want to stop feeling lonely and left out and join the people I love and spend time with them. I want to start living and stop wondering where the time has gone.

            We’re all told “before you know it” or “it feels like just yesterday”. Well, I’m going to start living today, the right now. I’m going to stop living for today and start living for eternal life. The only things I can take with me when I die are the people who lives and eternal lives I have changed. That’s what I want my treasure to be. I want to live for love.

Describe a character’s personality as if it were a room

Yay for out of the box creative writing! I’m going to be writing about Garrett’s personality. He is from the same story as Hani, but he’s a main character.
            It is a large room with deep blue walls. There are floor to ceiling windows, but most of them are covered with grey curtains that block most of the light. From the windows that are open, you can see a thick forest of evergreens and deciduous trees. The trees are old, thick, and strong. It is autumn and the leaves are every color from green to purple including yellow, orange, and red. Some of the trees have already lost their leaves. A light snow is falling.
            At the far end of the room is a stone wall with a huge fireplace that is lit. A stew is cooking in the fire. The aroma mixes with the scent of the freshly chopped wood by the fire and the smell of the burning wood. The stew is thick with carrots, potatoes, and other vegetables but mostly meat.
            Other than the fireplace, the room is scantily lit. There are some torches and some sconces on the walls. There is a thick table with fine chairs around it. The furniture in the room is all a mixture of rustic and elegant. In someplace it seems mismatched but other areas look fine. There is a bookcase filled with thick tomes. It is hard to tell whether the books are organized in any particular order.
            Another section of the room has numerous weapons hanging on the wall and on shelves. There is also armor and other battling objects and training things in that part. There is one suit of armor that has obviously been used and abused. It is dull, scratched, but still looks like it would protect someone in the fiercest battle. There is another suit of armor that has fine decorative engravings and polished, but it is obvious that this armor is also strong and would hold up in battle. The weapons are mostly swords, but there are some knives, spears, axes, bows and arrows, and jousting poles. The weapons are well used and well cared for.
            In one corner are excellently painted portraits and a very intricate family tree tapestry. There is an old but comfortable chair that faces this corner. This chair is very worn and homely. On the chair is tattered quilt that used to be thick.

Flowers (Part 2)

Okay, so this will be less of a part 2 and more of a summary of part 2. I’m just not sure where I’m going with it. Well, it’s more that I don’t know how to get where I want to go—at least, not without making this way longer than I originally meant it to be.

            So, a man with the same eyes as the woman asks Julia if he get a flower too. The man is well dressed in a nice suit though. I guess that they would walk around and talk for a while. Maybe he offers to buy her coffee in return for a flower. Julia would be skeptical of him but agree. Maybe they go on a couple of dates. Anyway, eventually we all find out that this man is the homeless woman’s son. He helps her out as much as she will let him, but she has schizophrenia and is paranoid and has delusions. She does not remember her son, which makes it very hard for him but he loves his mother too much to try to avoid the pain.

            Or, if I had wanted to take an easy way out, I would have just had Julia continue down the street handing out flowers until they are all gone. She would be so happy to see the smile on people’s faces that her day would have been all better. Not as good as the first one.

            Speaking of the first version, be aware of mental disorders. They are real and they can be very tragic, especially if they are not handled well. Respect others. We are all traveling hard roads, and some have more burdens than you see.

http://psychcentral.com/disorders/

Flowers (Part 1?)

A creative writing story! Yay! Today feels like a good day to get away from real life, at least for a bit.

            Julia stopped by her friend’s flower shop. Henrietta’s shop did okay, but it did struggle. Julia also struggled, but would find reasons to come into the shop (Note: I keep writing “ship” instead of “shop” for some reason. Just thought I’d let you know in case you want to psychoanalyze or you just want the funny image of a flower ship in your mind. Maybe that’s the name of Henrietta’s store. Maybe that is why the store isn’t doing too well). Today had been an especially hard day for Julia; the class she had substituted had been very rowdy fifth graders who tried to lie to her about their names and she overheard a couple of girls talking about things they shouldn’t even have known about when they were supposed to be reading. Not for the first time, she wondered what role their parent’s played in their life—did they know what their daughters were doing? Did they care?

            When I have kids, I will really care about them. I will be a part of their lives. I will make sure they feel loved and feel like they can come to me about anything, thought Julia. If I ever have kids, that is.

            It had been years since Julia had gone on a real date with a guy she was really excited to be asked out by. Sure, there were a few dates here and there but none of them had turned into much of anything. Rarely did they even last long enough for a second date. Though she was fairly young still, Julia had a tendency to give into desperate thoughts. This was especially true when it came to thoughts of her and men.

            Julia decided that today she would buy some flowers for herself today. It wasn’t like anyone else was going to. Plus, she deserved them and needed something pretty to look at. They would sit on her table and bring color to her drab apartment, at least for a few days. She made small talk with Henrietta about Henrietta’s beautiful daughter and work. Julia ended up with a bouquet of sunflowers. Yellow had always seemed like a happy color to her, and she could use some happiness.

            On her way through the small town, she walked past a woman who was obviously homeless. She was unwashed, her clothes looked like they came straight from a dumpster, and her hair was matted. A voice told Julia to give one of her flowers to the woman. At first Julia dismissed the voice, but as she continued to walk toward to woman her heart was moved with compassion. As she passed by, she pulled one of the sunflowers out of the bouquet and handed it to the woman. “This is for you,” she said.

            The woman’s eye lifted and Julia saw past the dirt to the woman’s glowing eyes, filling with tears. She had the most amazing shade of green eyes Julia had ever seen.

Running Away

I’ll let you decide whether this is fiction or non-fiction.

            Maybe you’ve heard the saying, “I build walls not to keep people out but to see who loves me enough to break them down.” Or maybe the wording is “climb over them”… either way, for me it’s that I runaway to see if anybody loves me enough to come after me.

            The only time I can really remember someone coming after me after I ran out of somewhere was when a friend and I went to karaoke. We did a song together and sighed up to do songs alone. I never actually planned on singing solo. I figured there were enough people that they wouldn’t get to my song before I left. I was right—it was time for me to leave before my song came up. My friend didn’t want to leave yet.
            I left. I wondered around, trying to remember where I parked, for 15-30 minutes before my friend called to ask if I had found my car—she knew me well enough to know that I was bad with directions. I had been walking past the restaurant again when she sang her song—“Sk8er Boi”. She picked me up in her car and drove me to mine. I was so thankful to have a friend who knew me so well and cared about me like that. I even wrote her a letter saying so.
            But I look at that night now and I am dissatisfied. Sure, she knew me. But she finished her stuff first before taking care of me. I was less of a priority for her than her song. And thinking about it, I walked around for an hour before she showed up because she was late to everything. An hour walking around with nothing to do, nowhere to go, and feeling like an idiot because people must have noticed it. Life only has so much time, and she had wasted my time.
            I left for a few months, and the months leading up to that I held my breath hoping someone would ask me to stay. I at least wanted someone to tell me something other than the generic, “You’ll be missed.” All it would have taken was for one person to give me a reason to stay. No such luck. I left and returned without much fuss.

            All I want is for someone to show me that I am a priority in their life. I want someone to take a chance on me, trust me, love me, show me that I am worth it. Worth them potentially making a fool out of themselves to make me feel special. Worth a risk. I want someone to notice I’m gone and tell me I’m missed. Someone to think about me when they don’t need to be—when there is no reason for them to be thinking about me other than that they care about me. Someone who will take my hand and lead me where I want to go but am afraid to go by myself.

Music’s Role in the Hunger Games

Okay, one last post about music in the Hunger Games Trilogy. This one looks at the importance of music in the trilogy. Music is mentioned in the books more than just the places I note here, but these are the places where you really see how music shapes the characters’ relationships. Enjoy!

            The Hunger Games may not be about music, but its heroin, KatnissEverdeen, is identified as the Mockingjay, a song bird. From singing to her determination to survive, Katniss is very much like the bird the capitol never meant to exist. Mockingjays are the offspring of jabberjays,birds the Capitol created as a weapon in that they would repeat conversations of rebels, granting the Capitol information, and mockingbirds. Because jabberjays bred before dying like the Capital planned, mockingjays became somewhat of slap in the face for the Capital (The Hunger Games, 42-43). In an essay Mary Borsellino writes, “Suzanne Collins has explained that Katniss is ‘a girl who should have never existed,’ an unexpected outcome of a security glitch in the Capitol’s regime, just like the mockingjays. She is ‘this girl who slips under the fence . . . and along with that goesa degree of independent thinking that is unusual in the districts” (Wilson, 31). For Katniss, her voice is personal; singing is something she never wants to do for the Capitol (Catching Fire, 39) and does not intentionally do it for the Rebels (Mockingjay, 127). However, music is a major factor in some of Katniss’ relationships.

            Katniss is very connected to her dead father through hunting, taking care of the family, and singing. After her father's death, Katniss stopped singing. Katniss is connected to mockingjays, but she associates her father with them first because he would sing to them. Her father had a wonderful singing voice, which was part of the reason her mother left her wealthy family to marry him. This is similar to Peeta and Katniss’ love story.

            Peeta tells Katniss that he fell in love with her the first time he heard her sing, and after his hijacking, it is her singing on a video that is the first time he sees her and does not go into a rage. Peeta tells Katniss about her mother falling in love with her father because of his voice. He goes on to tell her that on the first day of school when she sang all the birds went quiet like they did for her father, and “. . . right when your song ended, I knew—just like your mother—I was a goner” (The Hunger Games, 301). If what Sarah Rees Brennan suggests is true, that “[s]he won his love from afar by doing nothing but being herself. . .” (Wilson, 5), than singing is at the heart of who Katniss is and itreveals who she is. After Peeta is hijacked by the Capitol, making him think that Katniss is a mutation, anything that reminds him of her causes him to become furious. When the doctors working on Peeta’s recovery play video of Katniss singing “The Hanging Tree”, Peeta remembers her father singing it in the bakery and listening for the birds to stop singing. Haymitch gives Katniss hope by telling her, “. . . it’s the first connection to you that hasn’t triggered some mental meltdown” (Mockingjay, 211). Peeta does eventually recover to a functional level and falls in love with Katniss again.

            Music is also why Rue becomes an ally to Katniss during their first Hunger Game. Katniss’ mockingjay pin reminded Rue of the mockingjays at home. She said, “I like to see [the mockingjay pin] on you. That’s how I decided I could trust you” (The Hunger Games, 212). Katniss chooses to trust Rue because she reminds her of Prim, her younger sister. Whatever the reason for coming together, Katniss and Rue become friends more than just allies, as the other tributes in the Games do. Rue is the only person besides Prim that Katniss says she loves, and Katniss says it with the lullaby she sings as Rue dies. In both the action of singing and in the lyrics of the song Katniss tells Rue she loves her.

            The act of singing to Rue as she dies has a much larger affect than easing Rue in her pain. Borsellino explains how this act begins to unify the Districts of Panem: “The affect of this tiny, humanizing act—singing to a dying child—has immediate and far reaching consequences. Rue’s district sends Katniss bread. Rue’s fellow tribute spares her life. . .  Boggs offers Katniss’ singing as a moment when he was touched by her” (Wilson, 34-35). The districts have no communication with each other, but the song that showed love for a friend when friendships cannot be afforded shows the districts that the Capitol does not control everybody.

Again, yoy can listen to the music I composed inspired by the Hunger Games on my youtube channel:http://www.youtube.com/user/LynneKlet/videos?view=0. Thanks!

Sometimes

Sometimes things don’t make sense.

You see the world one way, then you find out you’ve only been seeing a small corner of it.

When we’re little, we think the whole world revolves around us. Anyone talking is talking to us. Other’s emotions aren’t as big as ours. Maybe we even thought that the people in the TV were just there for us—a private show for our entertainment.

But then we grow up. We find out that there is so much more than the neighborhood or country that we live in. There is even more than the earth, than the Milky Way. There is infinity all around us.

At that point, we learn that we are small. We are finite. There is a beginning and an eventual end to our lives. And we feel truly alone for the first time.

Everyone has shared similar experiences and feelings of the first time they feared death. Yet, once again, we feel like it is only us. We feel alone and it is once again all about us.

And the battle begins to rage inside us. There are so many people out there that we could help. They need someone to help them. But what would helping them cost us? Not just the monetary cost, or even the momentary cost. The cost of our comfort. The cost that our lives will change, whether we want it or not. The fear that if we truly cared for and loved those outside of us we might get hurt. They might abandon us. They might not love us in return. We might fail them.

And it hurts.

Is the cost worth it? Can they be trusted with the little piece of us we give them?

You want to wait for them to give a piece of themselves first. But the truth is, someone has to take the chance first. One of you will have to take the risk of being hurt first. If not, nothing can happen.

Love—like faith—is a risk. Life is a risk. You can huddle around the edges, curl into yourself. Or you can get hurt. You can be numb. Or you can feel excruciating pain.

And excoriating joy. Joy so uncontained it penetrates every area of your life. Joy so free and wild that you cannot contain it and it spreads like wildfire to everyone you meet. And like wildfire, it burns and destroys you. And lets new life sprout up in you. It kills all the dead things you have been clinging to as if they were your life.

And the pain comes back. You think you have died.

But you didn’t.

You lived. You survived. You were reborn.

Sometimes the pain is worth it. all.

Words

I’m sure we’ve all come to points in our lives where words seemed insufficient. A friend’s loved one dies and saying “I’m sorry” or anything else doesn’t cover your sympathy. The last time that happened to me, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything because it was only words. I wanted more than words.

            Well, something has happened in my life—kind of—that any words I try to think of aren’t enough. I tried to draw, but my hand didn’t know what to do. I tried to paint. I paint kind of weird. I’m diddle-daddle or write words with the paint to give the canvas texture and meaning to me. The canvas I was painting on today has had at least 5 layers, not 6. I wrote and the colors looked pretty (light greens, blues, with graying hints. Eventually some purple), so I blended it into a background color. Then I tried to do some swirls of something. It meant nothing. Most of my paintings are abstract and more about color and texture than anything. I never really know what I’m doing, but this time I couldn’t find a way to turn it into how I’m feeling. I ended up writing more to use up the paint, then blending it again.

            Last night I tried to write a poem to post here about it all. Half of the lines sound stupid and the other half sound like I’m trying too hard or not hard enough or am thinking about clichés (I’m not sure if I’m avoiding them or falling into them). Yeah, I’m not going to share that attempt at a poem.

            Even now, I want to try to write about it, see if I can do better now. But at the same time, it’s not something I want to share. It’s a good thing, for the most part. Well, maybe it’s not. It scares me but gives me comfort. I guess it’s like seeing two sides of the same coin at once or like a Picasso painting. I’m not sure what to make out of it or what to do with it. All these feelings are drowning me while I’m flying.

            I suppose I should just try to find a branch to land on while I try to sort through it all. But here isn’t the branch. Sorry if you feel like today was just ramblings. I know it probably doesn’t make much sense to you. I’m just going to stick with it being a Picasso painting. Stare at it until it makes sense and something burns with truth inside of you.

The Hanging Tree

Here we are on Halloween night. I thought it would be appropriate to share my 4 part version of “The Hanging Tree”, definitely the darkest of songs in The Hunger Games Trilogy. (And here I am, dressed as Katniss. I never thought I would be so impatient about handing out candy. I would prefer them all coming at once so that I could do something besides wait. So of them knock so softly on the door…). Anyway, I’m sorry if you have been upset that I haven’t been writing as much and very little of it has been creative writing. Then again, I haven’t heard anyone complain or ask for more…

To hear my version of “The Hanging Tree” go to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZqTObePIoE&feature=plcp

            “The Hanging Tree” is a major part of the third book because it captures the thought that death is easier than the life the characters live. The final verse of the song is brought up twice as Katniss thinks about the horrors she has seen and her and Gail’s promise to kill the other if captured.Borselllino relates “The Hanging Tree” to the song at the end of 1984 which she says Collins has read repeatedly: “Under the spreading chestnut tree / I sold you and you sold me.” Borsellino writes, “Combined, the two songs become a question posed to Peeta and Katniss: will fear, torture, hate, lust for power, and the desire for self-preservation ultimately prove to be so strong that even lovers would betray each other? . . . The Hunger Games, however, declares that no, love does conquer hate. . .” (Wilson, 36). Some object that Katniss living, even though she and Peeta eventually raise a family, is not the ideal ending for the Hunger Games series. As “The Hanging Tree” echoes, sometimes the hardest thing to do is to live. Instead of receiving a glorious death or even an easy life, at the end of the series Katniss and Peetaare still dealing with the trauma they have endured.

            “The Hanging Tree” is the piece that I am least satisfied with the outcome, though it does communicate the darkness of the song described in Mockingjay. I composed the song in ¾ time because it is usually associated with the waltz, a happy dance for lovers. By doing this, I hoped that it would feel odd as the song progresses and the listener realizes that the lovers in the song will never dance together because the man is dead and wants his beloved to join him. D minor is usually thought to be the saddest sounding of the minor keys, so I wrote in that key signature. Unlike the “Lullaby” I composed the melody of “The Hanging Tree” before deciding on the chords. This allowed me to ensure that the melody would be simple, as it is described in the book. However, how I heard the melody in my head did not end up simple as I found out while trying to record the song with a 15 year old singer. It being too late for me to rewrite the song, I asked her to make up the song as she sang. This worked fairly well since she already had what I had composed in her ear. I decided this worked well because Katniss learned the song from her father, and songs learned through oral tradition are bound to change over time.

            In the ensemble version of “The Hanging Tree” the oddness I had composed myself into is more apparent. The harmony lines have simpler rhythms than the melody to make up for the chord progressions. Though none of the chord progressions break Baroque rules, they are not the simple three chords heard in many songs today. On the end of the third line of the song (the only line in the song that changes. The words being “three”, “flee”, “free”, and “me”) I end on a V chord, making a half cadence. The next line begins with a VI chord, a deceptive cadence. This breaks the listener’s expectation[1] while not being displeasing to the ear. Having the piece be in a minor key also allowed me to include several diminished chords which are harsh sounding[2] and therefore appropriate for such a dark song.

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[1] V chords drive to the I chord. VI chords do not offer the full relief of returning to the tonic, but they do allow the leading tone (the third of the V chord) to resolve up a step.

[2] Diminished chords are made of two minor thirds stacked on top of each other. This creates the outer notes to be diminished fifths, or tritones, one of the most dissonant intervals. Tritones were once believed to invoke the devil and were also used in sirens because of the jarring sound.

Rue's Mockingjay Melody

Another Musical day! This time I’m looking at Rue’s 4 note Mockingjay melody from The Hunger Games. To listen to the melody I composed you can go to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujF0wZoYsJw&feature=plcp. Hope you enjoy it!

            In the Hunger Games Rue’s melody is a signal. At her home it is how Rue told the others in the orchard that it was quitting time. In the first arena, it became Rue’s signal to Katniss that she was fine, just cannot meet with her at the appointed time. However, this signal fails. The notes give Katniss a sense of relief until she hears Rue’s scream. In Catching Fire, the four notes become the signal for District 11, where Rue was from, to show their respect for Katniss. This again fails because the man who whistled the cue was killed for doing so.

            Deciding on four notes to create Rue’s melody was challenging because it is happy but slightly haunting in the books. I chose to have the four notes go in the same direction because a run, which is how the melody is described in The hunger Games, is defined as “rapid ascending or descending of notes” ("run"). The four notes that I ended up with, the first three notes create a C major chord, one of the happiest sounding chords. The fourth note though makes the chord into an a minor seven chord in third position. This makes the piece less happy but not by much. To add variety, I sometimes included the four note melody transposed up a perfect fifth, a pleasing interval. I choose to use piccolo, flute, and clarinet because they are bird-like sounding instruments. I composed the piece in 5/4 because it is an unusual key signature, making it sound more spontaneous instead of composed. This is also why I have triplets. The melody is sung by the mockingjays when interrupted by the mutations at the end of Katniss’ first Hunger Games, hence the high pitched warning calls at the end.

Ideal place

I feel like I’m cheating with the whole free/creative writing thing. Yesterday I copy and pasted something I did in college (Did you checkout my version of the Lullaby from the Hunger Games? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPv5Yq_FM-I&feature=g-upl. I’d really appreciate you checking it out and giving honest feedback! J). Then today, I just have to write about my ideal place.

            My ideal place is pretty simple. It’d be a cozy place with lots and lots of books. All kinds of books. Well, I’d be okay with there being no horror books. And I’m not crazy about romance novels (especially the dirty ones). I love libraries. Big public or school libraries. My high school had a library that was kind of rounded. I loved it. The room would of course need a huge comfy chair. The kind of chair that you would find in a “bachelor pad.” Not that I want the chair to look that way, but I’d want it to be comfortable that way. I would want the room to have a big window with a beautiful view. I would want the view to be of nature—trees, mountains, ocean, whatever—and I don’t want to have to worry about looking in. There would have to be a light in the room for when it is dark outside as well.

            I would also want an office. One with a big desk with drawers. Filing cabinets, organized stacks of paper, and maybe another bookshelf too. My dream house (yep, I moved up from “ideal place” to “dream house”) would also have a music room that is sound proof and big enough for my piano, guitar, djembe, and any other large-ish instruments I might get. The music room would also need a bookshelf or some other way for me to organize the music I have. An art and crafts room would also be pretty nifty. And a hallway where I can hang up the most random stuff.

Oh, and I would want a little room as an actual prayer closet. I would want that little room to be a light yellow with blue quotes written on some of the walls. I would hang up my world map in there. I would also want a large-ish whiteboard or chalkboard where I could write prayer requests and reminders of people and things to pray for. Actually, that might be my ideal place. I know I don’t need to go anywhere to find God, and I don’t need quiet to hear Him, but that would be my quiet place where it’s just about God. To physically go somewhere to be close to God but that place never be far away, that’s my ideal place.

Dream House

I loved these tree columns, but the site they were from is apparrently spam... I thought I might post them here because they are just so beautiful. I think it would look nice with any twisted or interesting-looking trees. You would just have to cut them to the right size and cut off the branches (or leave some stubs of the branches as coat hooks?)

Lullaby from The Hunger Games

Here’s something a little different again. I’ve decided to put some of the music I’ve composed on youtube for people to listen to. Obviously, this one is the Lullaby. This was for a school project but I wanted to share my explanation of it. I plan on doing a real recording of it, maybe writing my own words. Until then, I hope you enjoy my lullaby inspired by The Hunger Games (a link to the youtube video will be in the comments). :)

            The “Lullaby” is the bookends that show how little the world of Panem has changed from the first book to the last. Katniss describes the “Lullaby” this way, “a simple lullaby . . . a mountain air. But the words are easy and soothing, promising tomorrow will be more hopeful than this awful piece of time we call today” (The Hunger Games, 234). The series keeps looking for the happier tomorrow but it is slow in coming. As mentioned above, the first time the Lullaby is sung it is to Rue who is dying. When it is brought back in the epilogue of the last book, it is for Katniss and Peeta’s children who are playing in the meadow that became a mass grave after the bombing of district 12. This already shows that the bright future is coming because the grass grew back and the children are allowed to be innocent. The darkness of the past is still there, a warning not to be repeated.

            How I chose to compose the music for the Lullaby reflects the calmness lullabies usually posses and the sadness of the books. I wrote the Lullaby in 6/8 because it has a rocking motion that is mimics the sway of the mother or cradle. The chord progression is barrowed from a song called “You Won’t Relent (Seal)” by Misty Edwards. This progression of four chords worked well for the “Lullaby” because it is in a minor key but two of the chords are of a major quality, allowing the song to have both a hopeful and melancholycharacter. I composed the piece in e minor because it was once described as expressing love and sorrow (Characteristics of Musical Keys).

            The melody of the Lullaby was also planned to be simple and pleasant to the ear. The music sometimes splits because I wanted to include leaps of perfect 4ths and 5ths because they are pleasing intervals. However, doing this made some notes high and I wanted the “Lullaby” to be easily sung. I also chose to use word painting in the song[1]. The solo version is sung by a 15 year old because I wanted the quality of the voice to be similar to that of what Katniss might sound like.

            I included an ensemble version to show how it might sound in the community. I chose piano and flute to accompany the singers because it reflects on community as well as characters in the books. Prim easily picksup the flute when Katniss cannot (Catching Fire, 39), and Katniss enjoys listening to Madge play the piano (Catching Fire, 87). For the ensemble version of the piece, I ended the song with a Picardy third[2]. By doing this, the song reflects the hope of the future.

 

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[1] Word painting is when the music reflects the words being sung. For instance, for “Lay down your head” the notes descend and for “the sun will raise” the notes also raise.

[2] A Picardy third is when a composition in a minor key ends with a major tonic chord (I). This is accomplished by raising the third of the chord a half-step.

Confessions of a procrastinating student

I convince myself I'm sick more than I would like to admit. I think,
"this teacher wouldn't push me so hard if I had a sore throught." So I
clear my throat until it does become sore. It's easy to prettend to be
tired. I'm already hard on my body, so I'll finally listen to its
complaining and aching. I know that it is all in my head, but I feel
better having an excuse.
I know, I know it needs to stop. I need to get serious about my
schooling, finding a job, figuringout how I'm going to make out in the
"real world." If I haven't been living in the real world for the past
18 years, where have I been living?
I am a hard worker, most of the time. Sometimes I get tired of working
so hard though! Don't I deserve a break? It's not like I'm the only
one who does it. I bet some of my teaches even do it. It's my senior
year. I should have some time to enjoy it. Having a few projects that
aren't my best because I'm not feeling well won't hurt anybody. It's
not like I'm trying to get valevictorian or into a presigious
university. I'll just go to a community college until I really figure
things out. I would just get a job, but my parent's won't let me.
Things aren't going to be changing any time soon. Why can't they just
let things be? Why can't anybody just let me be?

Word associations

            Yay! Something thoughtless, unless you analyze them—then it is very thought provoking. Please don’t psychoanalyze me… So, basically it starts with one word, I write the first word that comes to my mind, then the first word that comes to my mind from that word, etc. Make sense? Okay, so I randomly typed some letters and the word it tried to spell from them: rise.

Rise, Maya Angelou,  amazing, sunset, bells, carol of the bells, music, happy, smile, song, guitar, restring, string instruments, violin, high pitched, cringe, drawback, handicap, sports, stadium, football, marching band, tennis shoes, bare feet, happy feet, fun socks, toe socks, warm, scarf, crocheting, needle, needle point, Christmas tree, O Christmas Tree, bells, Wednesdays, midweek, half over, half way there, traveling, driving, road trip, January, new year, new beginning, fresh start, start over, from the beginning, redo, mess up, messy, dirt, mud, rain, umbrella, Singin’ in the Rain, Make ‘em Laugh, happy, smile, smiley face

            Okay, that was 5 minutes about.

            I feel like I should explain some things. I am part of a bell choir, so that’s where all the bells came from. I need to restring my guitar (it’s been about 4 or 5 years since I’ve done that). I think that violins are beautiful and high notes can sound amazing. I haven’t been doing so well with hitting high notes recently though, hence the cringe. I was helping create a counted cross stitch pattern of a Christmas tree, so that’s where that jump came from. January I was on a road trip. Only I can go from “new beginning” to “mess up”. I like new beginnings, they’re great. I promise I’m a positive person! I ended on a happy note. :)

            Tomorrow I’ll try to do something with more substance (I wrote writing prompts on pieces of paper and pick them at random, so there’s no order or much planning that goes into these. Hope you’re okay with that!).

Magazine picture

            Look, a creative writing blog again! The only thing is, I don’t have any magazines lying around to look at a picture from (I’m not into magazines). So, I can just get a picture from the internet, right? Oh boy. I looked up “magazine page 10” on Google Images. This was the second picture and there is no way I cannot do this one:

 

            Mr. Vestler had finally published his first novel! He was ecstatic. After 40 years of writing, editing, and submitting his 527 page manuscript only to be turned down, he had finally found a publishing company that would take it.

            Mr. Vestler could tell that the other publishing companies did not even get to page 100 of his manuscript. They dismissed it before Tabitha, the tabby cat and main character of the story, had even witnessed the murder. Then there was all the drama and tension that came from Tabitha trying to communicate the crisis to her owner. How could they dismiss the love affair Tabitha was having with Tommy, the wild and daring cat? That started on page 28. Surely the publishing company had made it that far and were curious how it would end up. But when Mr. Vestler asked one of the companies that rejected him about it, they said that the romance was “absurd and nauseating.” They just did not understand.

            But Everything Cats Inc. did. Sure, they were a small company, but Mr. Vestler knew that they would get his genius novel into the hands of those who would appreciate them. He was especially excited when they told him that the back cover would be a picture of him and his own cat—Miss Fuzzy Fur. Miss Fuzzy Fur was more than just a pet to Mr. Vestler; she was his inspiration. Tabitha was loosely based on Miss Fuzzy Fur. Not in looks, but in the way she thought, acted, and moved. Mr. Vestler could spend hours just watching her and days talking with her. He even dedicated the novel to her.

 

I forgot how much fun creative writing is! I love being ridiculous. :)

Please give feedback!

            So… Yesterday got a little busy and I forgot to write. I know I still need to finish the story about the lost Valentine’s card, but I don’t think I’m going to do that today. So, what am I going to write about today? I have no idea…

            I’ve been watching a lot of youtube lately. Yeah, not so good but very entertaining. Mostly Luke Conrad, some Joey Graceffa, and I’ve really started liking watching and listening to Landon Austin. They all have amazing voices and are great story tellers. I would recommend watching some of their stuff when you’re bored or need to smile.

            I have an uncle who is really good at telling stories. I’m actually not very good at telling them, but I’m better at writing so I’m okay with that. I’m really terrible at telling jokes because I want it to be the exact wording the way I heard it. It never is though, so I give up on trying to be funny half way through. When the punch line is given weakly it’s not so funny.

            I think I’d like to make a youtube video one day. I was a music major once upon a time, so I maybe could. Listening to them has started stirring up my love for music again. I played guitar yesterday. I’ll be doing so drumming on djembe tonight. I don’t know anything about making a video, but I could learn. As I’ve said in a prior blog, music is sometimes a painful thing for me since I wasn’t good enough and that’s a huge issue for me. But a lot of times your biggest problem ends up being the best thing in your life. If I can get over my fears and just do music, I really think God could do some really amazing things through it.

            Not that I will give up my dream of being an author (update: finished 9 chapters of my book! Still a long way to go, but in all honesty, I’m not sure I ever believed I would get this far. I could really use some motivation. It would be really great if anyone reading this would leave a comment. I see that people have come to this blog, but I’m not totally sure I believe it. If you could leave a comment telling me how you got here and if/why you like to read this. And if you absolutely hate what I write, tell me that too! I love honest feedback, and I want to know how to improve. Just keep in mind that all of these blogs are rough drafts and have never been proofread.

            So, I guess this have kind of been an update and me begging for some interaction. Tell me what you want me to write about, if you have any free writing proms, etc. Hope to hear from you!

 

The youtube channels I’ve been watching:

Luke’s Vlog: http://www.youtube.com/user/Luke
Luke’s Music: http://www.youtube.com/user/lukeconard
Landon’s Vlog: http://www.youtube.com/user/landonaustin2
Landon’s Music: http://www.youtube.com/user/LandonAustin (awesome new music video for an original song!!)
Joey’s Vlog: http://www.youtube.com/user/JoeyGraceffa

Love is…not?

            Yeah, I don’t feel like writing the second part of the story today, but I will. Maybe Monday. If I’m feeling really productive, maybe this weekend. I have plenty more on my plate though. Ugh. So much to do. Good and fun things, but still there’s a lot of them.

            Instead I want to look at a quote that I ran across the other day. It is from the book Red Leaves by Thomas H. Cook (I haven’t read it other than a page long excerpt): “Love, you have decided by then, is a form of armor.”

            When I first read that, it felt wrong to me. Love seems the opposite of armor. It is a weapon or it is removing armor, but it is definitely not armor. Sure, love might make you feel strong and invincible, but what love really is is exposing yourself to being hurt. That takes a lot of trust. On Sunday I was given a word about being compassionate. I was told that that might lead to people taking advantage of me but I need to keep loving. Can I be honest? In some ways I felt like I had already let my heart harden in some areas. That word made me aware of that and my heart has been softened. My prayer for this past week (and hopefully the rest of my life) is for God to break my heart for what breaks His and for me to have the courage to do something about it. I don’t want to just be aware that there’s a person who is hurting, I want to have the courage to talk to that person, comfort him or her, and ask if I can pray for him or her. I want the pain in my heart to be so great for that person that I cannot ignore it. I want my heart to burn.

            Sorry, that was a bit off topic, but I want to be honest and transparent with anyone reading this. I’m not satisfied with where I am right now, but I’m going to get there. And when I do, you better watchout because I’m going to be that crazy person who God created me to be. In other words, I’m going to change the world.

            Love is a weapon. “Your heart is a weapon the size of your fist. Keep fighting. Keep loving.” I don’t know where that originally came from, but I love it. Life is a battle. God won the war, but we need to fight the enemy every second of every day of our lives. And like Haymitch (from the Hunger Games) said, you have to know who the enemy is. I don’t care what a person has done to you or anybody else, they are not the real enemy. They need love. The enemy is Satan. Fight him, love others. Love defeats everything.

            Love is exposing yourself. Almost all of us have shells to protect us. Some shells are think, some are thin. If you ever meet someone without a shell, it is amazing. Todd White is one of those people who is so honest about everything. He is so amazing because he knows exactly who God has created him to be and he lives that out completely. Every time I see him, God blows my mind with what He says through Todd.

            Every time I think about vulnerability I think about a short story by Flannery O’Conner called “Good Country People” (read it! http://faculty.weber.edu/jyoung/English%206710/Good%20Country%20People.pdf). Like all of O’Conner’s stories, it’s twisted. At least in this one no one dies… There are no guarantees in life. People will hurt you, but you have to take that risk. When you love someone, you have to be willing to let them take your glasses (even though you may not be able to see clearly or very far without them) and your wooden leg (even though that means you will then have to rely on that person). After all, the glasses and wooden leg aren’t who you are.

Todd White: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ek8p3m9HdZ4, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o4qbnRM5csI
Walk like Jesus: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FWmqDnZvo1M

Mailed Valentine Card that Never Arrived

Mailed Valentine Card that Never Arrived (Part 1. Okay, so it's not a card like the promp said, but the point is the same!)
            Jack loved Anna, but he was going to be moving. He wasn’t moving far, but far enough that they would no longer be going to the same high school. Jack hadn’t spent much time with Anna besides doing odd school projects and seeing her across the classroom. He was sure that what she felt for her was love though.
            Anna had the brightest smile, the clearest laugh, a sharp brain, a kind heart, a voice that would make song birds jealous. She was amazing in Jack’s mind. She wasn’t perfect, but he even loved her flaws. She wore braces and glasses. She helped people with their homework one on one but didn’t like to volunteer in class. Anna spent a lot of her time alone reading books instead of with people which made it hard for Jack to get to know her.
            Valentine ’s Day was coming up. Jack would be switching schools in less than a month. He didn’t want to leave without telling Anna how he felt, but he didn’t want to tell her face to face. He decided he would send her a copy of his favorite book, The Book Thief, in the mail with a letter telling her how he felt about her. He wrote and re-wrote the letter until it sounded good, not too desperate or creepy. Jack was afraid to put his name on the package, so left the sender information blank.
            It ended up that Jack’s package did not have enough postage on it to be sent but without a return address the package didn’t make it back to him either. Jack never knew that Anna did not receive his package though. He was heartbroken that she said nothing to even indicate she knew how he felt.
            Senior year rolled around. Jack went to his old high school’s graduation to congratulate his friends from there. He saw Anna in a chair afterwards waiting for her parents. She was reading The Book Thief. This irked Jack, so he decided to confront Anna after three years of silence.

(To be continued)

Teabag

            Okay, I just want to write something quickly then curl up in bed and finish watching Young Blades (I loved the show when it first came out. A bit cheesy, yeah. But it is pretty cute and kind of exciting and funny, etc).

            So, here’s my story for tonight. I drank some cherry blackberry tea—I was a little concerned it might taste like cough medicine but it was really good. It might have been better with honey like they recommended, but I digress—and the string of the teabag had a paper on it with a Walt Whitman quote: “When I give / I give myself.” I’m not going to look up where that came from right now, but I’m sure it’s a great poem.

            Walt Whitman was an interesting man. I respect his compassion for people and his intense emotions. He went through a lot. He witnessed a lot. He expressed it instead of holding it in. Often times I wish people would be more willing to express themselves and say how they really feel. That includes me.

            I was at Wal-Mart earlier today to buy yarn. The man behind me in the checkout line started a conversation by asking if I knit. I’m thankful for that man. It’s reassuring that there are still people out there that aren’t so wrapped up in their own little world but who see others around them. We had a nice little conversation while waiting. I was once told by a speaker I will probably never hear again that we need to learn as much as we can from each other while we can—who knows when or if we will see each other again. Every person you meet, no matter how short the encounter, can teach you something and you can teach him or her. If nothing else, you can tell that person through your actions that they are worth being noticed and being said hi to. Maybe the best way to make somebody’s day is to tell him or her, “God loves you.” Maybe you even have the courage to ask that person if they need prayer for anything.

            Love never fails. Love everyone. You are loved.

Hani’s Habit

As promised, here is a creatively written post. I did write this yesterday, but my internet was down. I'm going to get better about writing every weekday! Hani is a character in the book I’m currently working on. She is about 15 years old and the quintessential ditsy barmaid. I love her and wish she could be more involved in the book. Maybe I’ll have some more flashback type stories with her… Anyway, without further ado, here is Hani talking about her hard to break habit (I doubt she has ever learned to read, or cared to spend the time learning):
            People’ve told me I talk too much. I think they’re just upset that I know their secrets and am not afraid to call them out on it. I remember this one time when I saw Kwan, the delivery man, with Trina, another barmaid, in the kitchen. If they really didn’t want anybody to see them snogging, they would have gone somewhere more private.
            Anyway, I can’t understand why Kwan would want to snog Trina anyway. Sure, she’s easy, if that’s all he was looking for. She’s not that much to get though. Her hair’s an ugly mud shade, her eyes are dull, and her whole face is plain. She has no idea how to dress either. She’s just a boring flirt.
            I guess Kwan isn’t too much to look at either though. Ugh. He’s not tall at all, and his nose was broken a couple of years ago when he tried to break up a bar fight so it’s all crooked. I guess he does have decent muscles from lifting the heavy boxes. Yeah, I suppose if I were judging only by body he’d be okay. His skin is a nice tan shade…
            What was I talking about? Oh, right. People just don’t like to be called out on what they do. If they don’t want people to know about it, they should just not do it.

Hard hitting habit

So, last week was kind of a fail. But it’s Monday, meaning a whole new beginning—a positive spin on Mondays? And you thought it would never happen! Today’s topic: Write about a habit you find hard to break. Maybe I’ll do this same topic tomorrow, but make it creative writing by writing from the perspective of someone else. But right now, I think it’s God timing for me to write this one honestly.
            The hardest habit for me to break is my thinking. Sometimes I have really rotten thinking. I’ll think over my life and think about all the times I’ve failed. I’ve already written about my failed attempt to be a music major and my struggles with reading. Another painful thought is when I think about my dating life, which is pretty much non-existent. It’s pretty painful to be 24 years old and not know what kind of girlfriend I would be. . . It’s a little bit lonely.
            BUT . . .
            God really kind of wrecked my life yesterday in an amazing way! I’ve heard stuff about never being alone and how people were made for community and fellowship. And it’s all good and true, but after a week or so I go back to feeling a bit left out. As I was driving home last night, pouring my heart out to God, something that I’ve hear so many times before finally not only hit me but sank in. When I know who God is, I find out who I am and who I am supposed to be.
            Forget about the unsure statement about who you are in Christ, and yell them proudly! “I am holy?” becomes “I am holy through Jesus Christ who took all of my sins—past, present, and future—on the cross! He took my sins and gave me His righteousness! God is awesome!” The Bible is filled with amazing promises that God has given to those who love Him. I have believed that the Bible is a love story for the past couple of years, but it keeps getting better and digs into me more.
            And, there are those words that are so positive but I realize I’ve kind of turned away from. It is never too late! God wants the best for me and for you. When He gives us convictions, it is for our own good, not to make us feel like dirt. With His help, we can overcome anything—He already overcame the world! What else is left? “If God is for us, who can come against us?!” The war is already won. Satan is just trying to capture as many prisoners as he can. Fight a good fight every second of your life. Capture your thoughts and only let those that are from God remain. I get that it’s hard, but it’s worth it! I’m learning, so can you.

 

Come Away - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6d4Nenj13sA