I've done it again. Gone and literally made a fool of myself because of my selfishness/pettiness.
I'm so tired of this junk and extremely petty drama and impatience. So.
Now would be an excellent time to re-evaluate why I have been so petty, impatience, and involved in so much "drama" lately. Because these are all things I've been hard-pressed against.
I hate feeling like I've disappointed people, that I've given them reason to lost respect for me and that I've screwed up my testimony. It hurts my heart that I've acted so counter to the Jesus I claim to emulate.
I want to explain myself but then I feel as though I would be making excuses. And I know that if I apologize they're just going to re-iterate the thing I did that was wrong. I hate that!
Me: I'm so sorry. I know what I did was wrong and there is no excuse. Please forgive me.
Generally what happens w/ people: It's okay, but it just hurt me that etc. I really wish that you etc.
Ugh, that's just rubbing salt in the wound. Mom says I can be so hard on myself and I really do know what I did was wrong (usually) and will usually beat myself up over it. I hate having to hear them say it to. Maybe that's wrong of me, maybe I should confront things more. BUT IT'S HARD!!!
Anyway, I don't know where I'm going with this except that at this moment I have a pit in my stomach thinking about what I did and knowing that I now have to deal with someone else letting me know what I did and being afraid of them and that they'll hold it against me. That's prideful though.
It was wrong. And there is no excuse. And I don't want to do it again. I don't want to hurt my friends. Sometimes I give in to the pettiness sinful flesh. And I forget that my God is greater.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Thursday, December 20, 2012
New Book; New Quotations
The Book Thief by: Markus Zusak
"No matter how many times she was told that she was loved, there was no recognition that the proof was in the abandonment. Nothing changed the fact that she was a lost, skinny child in another foreign place, with more foreign people. Alone." p.32
"Somehow...he was able to appear as merely part of the background, even if he was standing at the front of a line. He was always just there. Not noticeable. Not important or particularly valuable. The frustration of that appearance, as you can imagine, was its complete midleadence, let's say. There most definitely was value in him..." p.34
"Liesel observed the strangeness of her foster father's eyes. They were made of kindness, and silver. Like soft silver, melting Liesel, upon seeing those eyes, understood that Hans Hubermann was worth a lot." p.34
"With a smile like that, you don't need eyes." p.58
"Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like the rain." p.81
"It's hard not to like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them." p.87
"She emptied the words out into the sink..." p. 90
"'Saukerl,' she laughed, and as she held up her hand, she knew completely that he was simultaneously calling her a Saumensch. I think that's as close to love as eleven-year-olds can get." p.144
"Where Hans Hubermann and Erik Vandenburg were ultimately united by music, Max and Liesel were held together by the quiet gathering of words." p.248
"The sky is blue today, Max, and there is a big long cloud, and it's stretched out, like a rope. At the end of it, the sunis like a yellow hole...." p.249
"The glittering anger was thick and unnerving, but she toiled through it." p.262
"Now she became spiteful. More spiteful and evil than she thought herself capable.
The injury of words.
Yes, the brutality of words.
She summoned them from someplace she only now recognized and hurled them at Isla Hermann." p.262
"Now she managed it. She fell silent.
Her throat was barren now. No words for miles." p.263
"In truth, I think he was afraid. Rudy Steiner was scared of the book thief's kiss. He must have longed for it so much. He must have loved her so incredibly hard. So hard that he would never ask for her lips again and would go to his grave without them." p.303
"She gave The Dream Carrier to Max as if the words alone could nourish him." p.328
"Five hundred souls.
I carried them in my fingers, like suitcases. Or I'd thow them over my shoulder. It was only the children I carried in my arms." p.336
"...the sky was yellow, like burning newspaper. If I looked closesly, I could see the words, reporting headlines commentating on the progress of the war and so forth." p.336
"That was when Rudy stepped in, the eternal stepper-inner." p.341
"The science of Papa's trade brough him an even greater level of respect... Competence was attractive." p.356
"Max lifted his head, with great sorrow and great astonishment. 'There were stars,' he said. 'They burned my eyes.'" p.378
"From a Himmel Street window the stars set fire to my eyes." p.378
"A voice played the notes inside her. This, it said, is your accordion. The sound of the the turning page carved them in half. Liesel read on." p.381
"One was a book thief. The other stole the sky." p.381
"Just remember that the enemy here is not in front of you." p.432
"With us, the enemy isn't over the hill or in any specific direction. It's all around." p.432
"As the density subsided, the roll call of names limped through the ruptured streets, sometimes ending with an ash-filled embrace or a knelt-down howl of grief. THey accumulated, hour by jour, like sweet and sour dreams, waiting to happen." p.435
"In the tree shadows, LIesel watched the boy. How things had changed, from fruit stealer to bread giver. His blond hair, although darkening, was like a candle. She heard his stomach growll-- and he was giving people bread." p.440
"The word shaker, who could only just make out the man's sentences, replied with a whisper. She handed it down through the branches. 'No thank you,' she said, for she knew that it was only herself who was holding the tree upright." p.448
"If nothing else, it alleviated the pain of simply watching. That's a horrible thought, she would write in her Himmel Street basement, but she knew it to be true. The pain of watching them. What about their pain? THe pain of stumbling shoes and torment and the closing gates of the camp?" p.502
"The voice amazed her. It made the endless sky into a ceiling just above her head, and the words boyunced back, landing somewhere on the floor of limping Jewish feet." p.509
"Somewhere inside her were the souls of words. They climbed out and stood beside her." p.512
"That was you-- the boy with the hard fists, and you said you would land a punch on death's face when he came for you." p.513
"He collected her punches as if they were presents. Her bony hands and elbows were accepted with nothing but a few short moans. He accumulated the loud, clumsy specks of saliva and tears as if they were lovely to his face, and more important, he was able to hold her down." p.515
"Together, they watched the humans disappear. They watched them dissolve, like moving tablets in the humid air." p.515
"No matter how many times she was told that she was loved, there was no recognition that the proof was in the abandonment. Nothing changed the fact that she was a lost, skinny child in another foreign place, with more foreign people. Alone." p.32
"Somehow...he was able to appear as merely part of the background, even if he was standing at the front of a line. He was always just there. Not noticeable. Not important or particularly valuable. The frustration of that appearance, as you can imagine, was its complete midleadence, let's say. There most definitely was value in him..." p.34
"Liesel observed the strangeness of her foster father's eyes. They were made of kindness, and silver. Like soft silver, melting Liesel, upon seeing those eyes, understood that Hans Hubermann was worth a lot." p.34
"With a smile like that, you don't need eyes." p.58
"Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like the rain." p.81
"It's hard not to like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them." p.87
"She emptied the words out into the sink..." p. 90
"'Saukerl,' she laughed, and as she held up her hand, she knew completely that he was simultaneously calling her a Saumensch. I think that's as close to love as eleven-year-olds can get." p.144
"Where Hans Hubermann and Erik Vandenburg were ultimately united by music, Max and Liesel were held together by the quiet gathering of words." p.248
"The sky is blue today, Max, and there is a big long cloud, and it's stretched out, like a rope. At the end of it, the sunis like a yellow hole...." p.249
"The glittering anger was thick and unnerving, but she toiled through it." p.262
"Now she became spiteful. More spiteful and evil than she thought herself capable.
The injury of words.
Yes, the brutality of words.
She summoned them from someplace she only now recognized and hurled them at Isla Hermann." p.262
"Now she managed it. She fell silent.
Her throat was barren now. No words for miles." p.263
"In truth, I think he was afraid. Rudy Steiner was scared of the book thief's kiss. He must have longed for it so much. He must have loved her so incredibly hard. So hard that he would never ask for her lips again and would go to his grave without them." p.303
"She gave The Dream Carrier to Max as if the words alone could nourish him." p.328
"Five hundred souls.
I carried them in my fingers, like suitcases. Or I'd thow them over my shoulder. It was only the children I carried in my arms." p.336
"...the sky was yellow, like burning newspaper. If I looked closesly, I could see the words, reporting headlines commentating on the progress of the war and so forth." p.336
"That was when Rudy stepped in, the eternal stepper-inner." p.341
"The science of Papa's trade brough him an even greater level of respect... Competence was attractive." p.356
"Max lifted his head, with great sorrow and great astonishment. 'There were stars,' he said. 'They burned my eyes.'" p.378
"From a Himmel Street window the stars set fire to my eyes." p.378
"A voice played the notes inside her. This, it said, is your accordion. The sound of the the turning page carved them in half. Liesel read on." p.381
"One was a book thief. The other stole the sky." p.381
"Just remember that the enemy here is not in front of you." p.432
"With us, the enemy isn't over the hill or in any specific direction. It's all around." p.432
"As the density subsided, the roll call of names limped through the ruptured streets, sometimes ending with an ash-filled embrace or a knelt-down howl of grief. THey accumulated, hour by jour, like sweet and sour dreams, waiting to happen." p.435
"In the tree shadows, LIesel watched the boy. How things had changed, from fruit stealer to bread giver. His blond hair, although darkening, was like a candle. She heard his stomach growll-- and he was giving people bread." p.440
"The word shaker, who could only just make out the man's sentences, replied with a whisper. She handed it down through the branches. 'No thank you,' she said, for she knew that it was only herself who was holding the tree upright." p.448
"If nothing else, it alleviated the pain of simply watching. That's a horrible thought, she would write in her Himmel Street basement, but she knew it to be true. The pain of watching them. What about their pain? THe pain of stumbling shoes and torment and the closing gates of the camp?" p.502
"The voice amazed her. It made the endless sky into a ceiling just above her head, and the words boyunced back, landing somewhere on the floor of limping Jewish feet." p.509
"Somewhere inside her were the souls of words. They climbed out and stood beside her." p.512
"That was you-- the boy with the hard fists, and you said you would land a punch on death's face when he came for you." p.513
"He collected her punches as if they were presents. Her bony hands and elbows were accepted with nothing but a few short moans. He accumulated the loud, clumsy specks of saliva and tears as if they were lovely to his face, and more important, he was able to hold her down." p.515
"Together, they watched the humans disappear. They watched them dissolve, like moving tablets in the humid air." p.515
This holiday season has been a whirlwind (quite literally today with this weather). Between funeral services and hospital visits I feel like I haven't been home at all. Maybe because I haven't really since in between has been full of errand running.
But part of me feels like this is what the holidays should be. Serving, loving, being there for one another. I mean it should be all the time, but what's better than during holidays that remind you to love and give thanks, right? Plus what other time of year are you allowed so much time off to just spend time to be together, and when you need it most; who could ask for more?
Then again, my heart isn't broken as so many are this year.
But part of me feels like this is what the holidays should be. Serving, loving, being there for one another. I mean it should be all the time, but what's better than during holidays that remind you to love and give thanks, right? Plus what other time of year are you allowed so much time off to just spend time to be together, and when you need it most; who could ask for more?
Then again, my heart isn't broken as so many are this year.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Oh, Jesus. How He speaks to His Beloved.
"Angel was a rare flower in a weed patch, something special. The others didn't like her because of it. And because Angel didn't mingle. She was self-possessed." (p.85)
"He wasn't worried about anything. Every inch of him told her he knew who he was and what he was about, even if she didn't. And she knew if she didn't get well and get away soon, he would end up taking her apart, piece by piece." (p.117)
"Don't go pinning your hopes on me, mister. I have my own plans, and they don't include you." (p.122)
"The walk had been good for her, but she was exhausted. Still, she didn't want to be inside. She dragged his chair out the door so she could sit in the open. She wanted to feel the warmth of the sun on her face. She wanted to smell the fresh air. A soft afternoon breeze played with her hair, and she could smell the earth, strong and rich. Her muscles loosened, and she closed her eyes." (p.122)
"He might as well have been invisible. She was so tightly wrapped in herself, her own misery and dark thoughts, that she was blind to everything else. Especially him." (p.128)
"She hated his competence. She despised his calm. She wanted to destroy both, and she only had one weapon she knew how to use." (p.129)
"The foulness was inside her, running in her blood." (p.132)
"He had not married her to have a drudge. He wanted a woman as a part of his life-- part of himself." (p.141)
"He wondered if he could even put it into words. 'I want you to love me,' he said and saw the derision in her ace. 'I want you to trust me enough to let me love you,, and I want you to stay here with me so we can build a life together. That's what I want.'" (p.150)
"'Are you crying? For me?' she said weakly. 'Don't you think you're worth it?' Something inside her cracked. She writhed inside to escape the feeling..." (p.152)
"She wasn't ready to listen to the why and wherefore. It would be acid, not salve. And so he held his silence." p.154
"He held her and looked into her eyes and was aware of her, and something deep within her shifted." p.157
"she had imagined him gloating and taunting, rubbing her face in her own broken pride. Instead he knelt before her and washed her dirty, blistered feet." p. 163
"Because, for some of us, one mile can be farther to walk than thirty." p.164
"He could feel the fear radiating from her. And rightly so. His rage frightened him." p. 195
"But he had seen and heart it-- for one brief, unguarded instant he'd known what she really felt. Relief. Relief so profound it stopped him cold." p.196
"She didn't understand him. She didn't understand him at all, 'why?' 'Because I love you.' he said thickly." p.197
"The anger vanished but not the hurt, not the sorrow. 'You are free. You just don't know it yet.'" p.198
"It was easier retreating into anger than seeing into her tortured soul." p.206
"She had cut herself wide open and poured her insides out to him the night he brought her home. Now she lay bleeding to death and wouldn't allow the healing to come." p.212
"Falling in love meant you lost control of your emotions and your will and your life. It meant you lost yourself." p.215
"He was not uneasy with the darkness or the sounds, and after a while, in his arms, she wasn't either." p.217
"You didn't just walk away and say things had never happened. they had, and they left deep, raw, gaping wounds. Even when the wounds healed, there were scars." p.254
"...you had to be like a stone because people would chip away at you, and that stone had to be big enough that they would never reach the very heart of you." p.265
"She had thought men like him were weak, but [he] wasn't. He was quiet and steady, unyielding, like a rock. How could he still look at her with anything but loathing after all she had done? How could he love her?" p.267
"You know, sometimes you can hurt yourself more by trying to keep yourself from being hurt!" p.269
"It suddenly dawned on them what they had done. Not to her. That didn't matter one way or the other. But to themselves." p.270
"Sometimes people became too caught up in the problems of day-to-day living to notice the pain in someone else." p.271
"You're a bird who's been in a cage all your life, and suddenly all the walls are gone, and you're in the wide open. You're so afraid you're looking for any way back into the cage again." p.275
"His dreams were becoming her dreams." p.278
"She destroyed his dreams, and he made her wind chimes." p.284
"As long as she was moving and working, she could hold the longing at bay." p.300
"She was so weak. It was a loathsome thing to face about herself." p.309
"There was something inside him that drew her like a moth to flame, but it was a flame that didn't scorch or destroy. It lit something deep inside her so that she felt she was becoming a part of him." p.318
"She was consumed with gratitude and filled with an aching humility that this man loved her. Why, of all the other women of the world, had he chosen her? She was so undeserving. It was inconceivable." p.344
"You have to die to be reborn." p.357
"She was so full of emotion she couldn't speak. His expression was so endearing, full of so much promise. she loved him so much she felt consumed with it." p.361
"'It doesn't matter,' he said over and over. 'It doesn't matter.'
Both of them knew it did." p.362
"She really loved him. And yet, there was something else in her moonlit face. A haunting sadness he couldn't take away, and emptiness he could never fill." p.368
"Stared that those aristocratic hands, hands without calluses, pale and manicured. Beautifully shaped hands that were capable of unspeakable cruelty.
She remembered [his] hands, large and strong, clearly used to hard labor. They were callused and rough. His hands had looked so cruel and yet been so gentle. His touch healed her body and opened her heart." p.405
"He drew back, looking down into her face...he thought his heart would burst. She was his. She belonged to him! He could scarcely take it in." p.409
"'God I think'...she felt jubilation-- and the presence of a power so immense she was trembling." p.413
"That voice had said My will, but all she had really done was the only thing that came into her mind" p.417
"You're eaten up with bitterness. You carry your hatred like a banner, waving it all the time." p.424
"They were both so beautiful it was hard to look at them. Light shining in the darkness." p.438
"She pushed the lace curtain back to stare out the window. It was raining. She couldn't breathe past the pain in her chest. Her eyes were on fire." p.448
"Forgiving others for what they had done to her had come far easier than forgiving herself." p.449
"The revelation was bitter and painful, but a relief, too. There was an odd sort of freedom in standing before a mirror and seeing himself clearly." p.450
"He bought you out of bondage with his own sweat and blood, and you know it. Don't tell me now you can't go back to him." p.452
"She struggled to control the tears that were so often near the surface lately. She would not give in. She couldn't. If she did, she would cry until she melted away into nothing." p.453
"All her carefully planned words fled. So many words to say a simple, heartfelt thing: I love you, and I'm sorry. She could not even speak. The tears that had been frozen inside her all her life came, and the last bastion melted away in a flood.
Weeping, [she] sank to her knees. Hot tears fell on his boots. She wiped them away with her hair. She bent over, heartbroken, and put her hands on his feet." p.461
"He wasn't worried about anything. Every inch of him told her he knew who he was and what he was about, even if she didn't. And she knew if she didn't get well and get away soon, he would end up taking her apart, piece by piece." (p.117)
"Don't go pinning your hopes on me, mister. I have my own plans, and they don't include you." (p.122)
"The walk had been good for her, but she was exhausted. Still, she didn't want to be inside. She dragged his chair out the door so she could sit in the open. She wanted to feel the warmth of the sun on her face. She wanted to smell the fresh air. A soft afternoon breeze played with her hair, and she could smell the earth, strong and rich. Her muscles loosened, and she closed her eyes." (p.122)
"He might as well have been invisible. She was so tightly wrapped in herself, her own misery and dark thoughts, that she was blind to everything else. Especially him." (p.128)
"She hated his competence. She despised his calm. She wanted to destroy both, and she only had one weapon she knew how to use." (p.129)
"The foulness was inside her, running in her blood." (p.132)
"He had not married her to have a drudge. He wanted a woman as a part of his life-- part of himself." (p.141)
"He wondered if he could even put it into words. 'I want you to love me,' he said and saw the derision in her ace. 'I want you to trust me enough to let me love you,, and I want you to stay here with me so we can build a life together. That's what I want.'" (p.150)
"'Are you crying? For me?' she said weakly. 'Don't you think you're worth it?' Something inside her cracked. She writhed inside to escape the feeling..." (p.152)
"She wasn't ready to listen to the why and wherefore. It would be acid, not salve. And so he held his silence." p.154
"He held her and looked into her eyes and was aware of her, and something deep within her shifted." p.157
"she had imagined him gloating and taunting, rubbing her face in her own broken pride. Instead he knelt before her and washed her dirty, blistered feet." p. 163
"Because, for some of us, one mile can be farther to walk than thirty." p.164
"He could feel the fear radiating from her. And rightly so. His rage frightened him." p. 195
"But he had seen and heart it-- for one brief, unguarded instant he'd known what she really felt. Relief. Relief so profound it stopped him cold." p.196
"She didn't understand him. She didn't understand him at all, 'why?' 'Because I love you.' he said thickly." p.197
"The anger vanished but not the hurt, not the sorrow. 'You are free. You just don't know it yet.'" p.198
"It was easier retreating into anger than seeing into her tortured soul." p.206
"She had cut herself wide open and poured her insides out to him the night he brought her home. Now she lay bleeding to death and wouldn't allow the healing to come." p.212
"Falling in love meant you lost control of your emotions and your will and your life. It meant you lost yourself." p.215
"He was not uneasy with the darkness or the sounds, and after a while, in his arms, she wasn't either." p.217
"You didn't just walk away and say things had never happened. they had, and they left deep, raw, gaping wounds. Even when the wounds healed, there were scars." p.254
"...you had to be like a stone because people would chip away at you, and that stone had to be big enough that they would never reach the very heart of you." p.265
"She had thought men like him were weak, but [he] wasn't. He was quiet and steady, unyielding, like a rock. How could he still look at her with anything but loathing after all she had done? How could he love her?" p.267
"You know, sometimes you can hurt yourself more by trying to keep yourself from being hurt!" p.269
"It suddenly dawned on them what they had done. Not to her. That didn't matter one way or the other. But to themselves." p.270
"Sometimes people became too caught up in the problems of day-to-day living to notice the pain in someone else." p.271
"You're a bird who's been in a cage all your life, and suddenly all the walls are gone, and you're in the wide open. You're so afraid you're looking for any way back into the cage again." p.275
"His dreams were becoming her dreams." p.278
"She destroyed his dreams, and he made her wind chimes." p.284
"As long as she was moving and working, she could hold the longing at bay." p.300
"She was so weak. It was a loathsome thing to face about herself." p.309
"There was something inside him that drew her like a moth to flame, but it was a flame that didn't scorch or destroy. It lit something deep inside her so that she felt she was becoming a part of him." p.318
"She was consumed with gratitude and filled with an aching humility that this man loved her. Why, of all the other women of the world, had he chosen her? She was so undeserving. It was inconceivable." p.344
"You have to die to be reborn." p.357
"She was so full of emotion she couldn't speak. His expression was so endearing, full of so much promise. she loved him so much she felt consumed with it." p.361
"'It doesn't matter,' he said over and over. 'It doesn't matter.'
Both of them knew it did." p.362
"She really loved him. And yet, there was something else in her moonlit face. A haunting sadness he couldn't take away, and emptiness he could never fill." p.368
"Stared that those aristocratic hands, hands without calluses, pale and manicured. Beautifully shaped hands that were capable of unspeakable cruelty.
She remembered [his] hands, large and strong, clearly used to hard labor. They were callused and rough. His hands had looked so cruel and yet been so gentle. His touch healed her body and opened her heart." p.405
"He drew back, looking down into her face...he thought his heart would burst. She was his. She belonged to him! He could scarcely take it in." p.409
"'God I think'...she felt jubilation-- and the presence of a power so immense she was trembling." p.413
"That voice had said My will, but all she had really done was the only thing that came into her mind" p.417
"You're eaten up with bitterness. You carry your hatred like a banner, waving it all the time." p.424
"They were both so beautiful it was hard to look at them. Light shining in the darkness." p.438
"She pushed the lace curtain back to stare out the window. It was raining. She couldn't breathe past the pain in her chest. Her eyes were on fire." p.448
"Forgiving others for what they had done to her had come far easier than forgiving herself." p.449
"The revelation was bitter and painful, but a relief, too. There was an odd sort of freedom in standing before a mirror and seeing himself clearly." p.450
"He bought you out of bondage with his own sweat and blood, and you know it. Don't tell me now you can't go back to him." p.452
"She struggled to control the tears that were so often near the surface lately. She would not give in. She couldn't. If she did, she would cry until she melted away into nothing." p.453
"All her carefully planned words fled. So many words to say a simple, heartfelt thing: I love you, and I'm sorry. She could not even speak. The tears that had been frozen inside her all her life came, and the last bastion melted away in a flood.
Weeping, [she] sank to her knees. Hot tears fell on his boots. She wiped them away with her hair. She bent over, heartbroken, and put her hands on his feet." p.461
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Here We Go Again
For the first time in years I feel haunted by my past. Haunted because I fear that I'm going to/in the midst of/kind of want to re-live it.
That last part is what scares me the worst. I find myself thinking things like:
so why was that so awful again? What about it made me feel like the walking dead and so helpless inside? Did I really feel that way? And what was so great about being freed from that? Why can't I feel that again?
I don't think it's coincidental the music which chronicles then and now.
Then: memento mori by Flyleaf
Now: New Horizons and Remember to Live by Flyleaf
You'd think maybe God is trying to tell me something. Cause He's never done that before. :)
But honestly, I feel like I don't know who He is anymore. I haven't spent time with Him for so long. And it would seem that the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Perhaps the spirit isn't willing enough.
I can't decide if I want to talk it out with someone or if that will only solidify it into my brain as I think it so often does. Also, the fear that comes with the thought of speaking it is incredible.
Now this all sounds completely stupid, even to myself.
I wish I was as strong as my sister. I wish I was as independent as her. As loving and wise. I feel so daft, like such an Amy March all the time lately. I want to be a Jo again!
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Allonsy Alonso!
Listening to: We Come Running by Youngblood Hawke
Line Obsession: "The word beautiful came to his mind, but he shook it off." -Bridge to Terabithia Katherine Paterson
I've had this question stuck in my head for about a week now, well longer than that but it's popped back up this week.
What is it that stirs you to create? What is it that you then create? Do you write, paint, dance, come up with plays in a game, sew, cook, sing/play music?
This week I went to some extra-credit thing for students with licensure tagged onto their majors. The speaker brought up the theory that to create is one of the highest levels of thinking and development. While I agree, I also thought of something Natalie Lloyd always says about how since we are made in the image of the creator we can't help but create.
It's bugging me though that I don't yet know what it is that I create. I've never felt "creative" and have always been dazzled by my siblings who are musicians and my friends who are artists. In fact, once I got to college I realized that nearly all of my friends can fall under one of the two aforementioned categories. And where do I fit in?
So I was talking to my friend about this after the lecture and she told me, "Allie, I think you create conversation. I mean look at us right now, we're talking about who knows what and you brought us here."
I want to be satisfied with that, I earnestly do. But I feel like anyone can create good conversation. I guess I just want to be able to create something that I can know will last....but I guess everyone feels that way deep down. Even Van Gogh did...which brings me to my next and nerdiest point.
I am having acompletely irrational slight obsession with Doctor Who for the past two months at the moment.
But I can't very well help myself. David Tennant especially, but Matt Smith too are just too darn cute (and don't worry, Christopher Eccleston will always hold a special place in my heart, cause he was the first one I saw yada yada yada)
I mean, c'mon. He's such a comedian. Whenever I see him and Catherine Tate together it makes me nearly angry that I'm American and not British/Scottish. If you haven't watched The Decoy Bride go to netflix right away and watch it. The girl is the voice of Merida and then there's David Tennant as a goofy helpless British man, a far cry from the doctor.
My friend made a good point in saying that it's a completely godless show but I think part of the reason I'm so drawn to it is because the doctor is such a God/Christ figure. And nearly everything about him makes me want to rely on/root for him and I know he's already won no matter what. He loves fellowship, he's just yet merciful, and he feels so passionately about protecting the human race and realizes that we're completely daft.
Or maybe it's just because he's a wonderful character, such an old soul with so much life left. And also that it's just an adventure, because whether you realize it or not you are traveling with the doctor. You're one of his companions and you get to see all these species and places and get to become his dear friend.
Gracious me....
Anyway, would love to hear your take on the creativity subject, or doctor who, or whatever you're reading right now. (I'm in-between Man of Feeling [a proto-modernist novel from the 18th century for my Novels in English course] and Bridge to Terabithia [for children's lit]).
Line Obsession: "The word beautiful came to his mind, but he shook it off." -Bridge to Terabithia Katherine Paterson
I've had this question stuck in my head for about a week now, well longer than that but it's popped back up this week.
What is it that stirs you to create? What is it that you then create? Do you write, paint, dance, come up with plays in a game, sew, cook, sing/play music?
This week I went to some extra-credit thing for students with licensure tagged onto their majors. The speaker brought up the theory that to create is one of the highest levels of thinking and development. While I agree, I also thought of something Natalie Lloyd always says about how since we are made in the image of the creator we can't help but create.
It's bugging me though that I don't yet know what it is that I create. I've never felt "creative" and have always been dazzled by my siblings who are musicians and my friends who are artists. In fact, once I got to college I realized that nearly all of my friends can fall under one of the two aforementioned categories. And where do I fit in?
So I was talking to my friend about this after the lecture and she told me, "Allie, I think you create conversation. I mean look at us right now, we're talking about who knows what and you brought us here."
I want to be satisfied with that, I earnestly do. But I feel like anyone can create good conversation. I guess I just want to be able to create something that I can know will last....but I guess everyone feels that way deep down. Even Van Gogh did...which brings me to my next and nerdiest point.
I am having a
But I can't very well help myself. David Tennant especially, but Matt Smith too are just too darn cute (and don't worry, Christopher Eccleston will always hold a special place in my heart, cause he was the first one I saw yada yada yada)
I mean, c'mon. He's such a comedian. Whenever I see him and Catherine Tate together it makes me nearly angry that I'm American and not British/Scottish. If you haven't watched The Decoy Bride go to netflix right away and watch it. The girl is the voice of Merida and then there's David Tennant as a goofy helpless British man, a far cry from the doctor.
My friend made a good point in saying that it's a completely godless show but I think part of the reason I'm so drawn to it is because the doctor is such a God/Christ figure. And nearly everything about him makes me want to rely on/root for him and I know he's already won no matter what. He loves fellowship, he's just yet merciful, and he feels so passionately about protecting the human race and realizes that we're completely daft.
Or maybe it's just because he's a wonderful character, such an old soul with so much life left. And also that it's just an adventure, because whether you realize it or not you are traveling with the doctor. You're one of his companions and you get to see all these species and places and get to become his dear friend.
Gracious me....
Anyway, would love to hear your take on the creativity subject, or doctor who, or whatever you're reading right now. (I'm in-between Man of Feeling [a proto-modernist novel from the 18th century for my Novels in English course] and Bridge to Terabithia [for children's lit]).
Monday, August 13, 2012
Just a Girl with a Broken Carpet Bag full of Dreams
Listening to: Wonder by Emeli Sandé
Line Obsession: "This light is contagious, go go tell your neighbors. Just reach out and pass it on."
I was watching Anne of Green Gables last night and even though Anne of Avonlea is my favorite I am always embarrassed and supremely empowered by Anne. She's so spunky and dreamy and human. She acts without thinking oftentimes and yet thinks so much that people think she's stuck in her imagination. But in reality we know her better than that. She's just being herself, even if she's not always confident in who she is. And that is something so rare and respectable.
People make me nervous. Especially people I only sort of know, they make me the most nervous. But I've done it before (stepping up to build relationships and lead when I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing), I can do it again (The trick is to act before you can psych/rationalize your way out of it). It's just about remembering that living for God is way more thrilling and rewarding. Therefore, I can live even if I'm afraid, even with butterflies in my stomach I can step up and do something...or a lot of somethings.
Hasn't God already proved to me over and over that He enjoys to use me if I just let Him?! He proved that to me last year at school, He used me even as a freshman to impact the people around me. And He used me at camp to impact not just the campers but my fellow staff.
The more I watch people, the more I realize that no one will ever know how much 1)people look up to them, 2)of an imprint they leave on people's hearts, 3)change they lead
I'm starting to believe that no matter who or where you are that you matter and are a world-changer, even if you don't intend to. So more people should start living like it.
That's one of the biggest lessons I tried to teach my campers, especially since I had the older girls: be a good example because you're an example whether you like it or not.
That's not to say that I'm perfect, one of the biggest reasons I don't act is because I'm afraid people will see me mess up and it will ruin my testimony. How prideful of me! To think that anything I could do would sway the hearts of men more than God already is. Thus, reinforcing the assurance in being able to speak and act in spite of my fear.
Line Obsession: "This light is contagious, go go tell your neighbors. Just reach out and pass it on."
I was watching Anne of Green Gables last night and even though Anne of Avonlea is my favorite I am always embarrassed and supremely empowered by Anne. She's so spunky and dreamy and human. She acts without thinking oftentimes and yet thinks so much that people think she's stuck in her imagination. But in reality we know her better than that. She's just being herself, even if she's not always confident in who she is. And that is something so rare and respectable.
People make me nervous. Especially people I only sort of know, they make me the most nervous. But I've done it before (stepping up to build relationships and lead when I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing), I can do it again (The trick is to act before you can psych/rationalize your way out of it). It's just about remembering that living for God is way more thrilling and rewarding. Therefore, I can live even if I'm afraid, even with butterflies in my stomach I can step up and do something...or a lot of somethings.
Hasn't God already proved to me over and over that He enjoys to use me if I just let Him?! He proved that to me last year at school, He used me even as a freshman to impact the people around me. And He used me at camp to impact not just the campers but my fellow staff.
The more I watch people, the more I realize that no one will ever know how much 1)people look up to them, 2)of an imprint they leave on people's hearts, 3)change they lead
I'm starting to believe that no matter who or where you are that you matter and are a world-changer, even if you don't intend to. So more people should start living like it.
That's one of the biggest lessons I tried to teach my campers, especially since I had the older girls: be a good example because you're an example whether you like it or not.
That's not to say that I'm perfect, one of the biggest reasons I don't act is because I'm afraid people will see me mess up and it will ruin my testimony. How prideful of me! To think that anything I could do would sway the hearts of men more than God already is. Thus, reinforcing the assurance in being able to speak and act in spite of my fear.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
