sheWRITES: I think I need to get rid of that category because I think, from now on, it’s all going to be stream-of-consciousness…

I’m really not sure what this blog is for. I don’t know why I made it, I don’t know why I’ve kept it, and I don’t know what to do with it now.

I could use it as a repository for my brain. That idea is actually very appealing right now, because my brain is particular noisy today. So the idea of having a place to just dump it all out there…well, it would make the blog useful.

I have sat on this blog for a good, long while. At times, I’ve been tempted to delete it and something has always stopped me. Like there’s this knowing deep down that someday, I will write again. Well, I don’t think that day is today, despite the fact that I’m writing in it right now. This isn’t real writing; it’s just thinking through my fingertips. The space was here, I’m tired of it sitting here doing nothing, so I’ve decided to do something with it even if that something adds up to nothing.

That barely makes any sense at all.

I DO want to do something with this blog, but I think I’ve turned a corner in my life where I’m tired of theming things. “Mommy Blogger”, “Inspirational Blogger”, “Foodie Blogger”, etc.

I am not a theme. I am a mess of a person who likes to play with words.

So, no theme. I want to do something with this blog but we are not going to theme it. (Why do I refer to myself as ‘we’? What does that mean? I know I’m not the only person who does it and I bet there’s a psychological explanation for WHY it gets done by some people — including me…)

I could just use it as a repository for a while, I suppose. I have a hunch it would find itself. The blog. The blog would find itself? No, THAT doesn’t make sense, not even barely…I have a hunch I would find my blogging self. That’s more like what I’m thinking…I think.

Sometimes, you just have to jump in, make a mess, and then polish as you go.

I tend to treat blogging like it’s something that MUST be approached with a purpose. “I am going to write about XYZ and only XYZ and I’m going to write about it thrice a week etc etc etc.” And when I don’t feel like investing in XYZ anymore, the blog just falls to the wayside.

So how about this, dear brain-who-insists-on-putting-parameters-and-labels-and-definitions-on-everything: This blog is for words. Whenever you want to do something with words, even if it’s nothing like the LAST thing you did with words, this is where it will go. And over time, you will have a collection of words. And maybe they will even matter. But if they don’t, it’s okay, because you like to play with words and now you have somewhere to do it.

I think that’s all I’ve ever wanted. Somewhere to put words. And, in keeping with how I’ve lived the majority of my life, I end up getting swayed by OTHER PEOPLE’S EXPECTATIONS. Instead of just playing with words, I start to feel like it has to be INTERESTING. Or HELPFUL. Or at least, composed of some kind of substance that is of value to someone else…

Well, it doesn’t actually have to be. In fact, this entire post is probably only 30% substance. Substance that can be summarized in one sentence: This is my blog and I want to use it again; I will use it for words.

The end.

From Her Journal

Abba. how long.
it’s not even a question anymore.
it’s breathing.
it’s heartbeat.
daily, weekly, monthly, yearly.
how long.
how long.
how long.

hosanna.
please come save us. ♥️
in the blink of an eye.

how long… 

9/27/2015 11:28pm sunday

[inspired by all the trials and heartache of the last few years and especially the last several weeks.] 

sheWRITES: “You have a gift; you should use it!”

  
But I don’t know how. 

I want to write. But I don’t know what to write about. 

I want to write. But I’m afraid of people reading it. 

I’m not ready to be vulnerable. But I’ll probably never be ready to be vulnerable. Isn’t that what vulnerable is? Not-readiness?

These are all my excuses for not writing. And there’s more. 

It’s too hard. I don’t want to use my brain. I don’t want to work at it. I want it to be fun and enjoyable. 

And I don’t know what to write about. 

*sigh* They’re all silly reasons for not writing. I’ve been alive for 34 years, so I surely have something to write about!! And what’s the point of writing if no one is going to read it?? As for being vulnerable…we covered that one. 

Really, I’m just ridiculous. So we’ll start with that. I’ll do the writing and you do the reading. 

Why I Am Ridiculous

  • A wasp looked directly at me once and now I’m terrified of them. They are evil and all of them are out to get me. >_> I sound as bad as my best friend and my boyfriend, who both insist that spiders jump on your face! (They really don’t. And also, all the wasps are out to get me.)
  • God has been so good and faithful to me these last three years (longer, actually, but I have been profoundly more aware of it these last three years) and I’m still a little scaredy-cat. Like He isn’t going to provide. Or protect. Then again…what if He doesn’t? (See?!? There I go!!)
  • My best friend yells at me all the time because I’m constantly saying things like, “I will never have short hair again!! Well, I suppose I could get cancer or something…” And I go on about why that would once again relegate me to short hair so she slaps me and says, “Don’t be ridiculous!!!” (See? Toldja I’m ridiculous. And you didn’t buh-lee-me.) I’m always going down the ridiculous negative paths. It’s like I’m constantly in prepare-for-the-worst mode. Hm. I suppose that’s just a really nice way of saying I’m anxious.
  • I almost never think of the world in terms of people loving me. Like…people loving me isn’t a real thing. *I* love people. But it doesn’t often occur to me that they love me too. It’s weird. And also ridiculous. When I stop and think, “Wait a minute. They LIKE me. They WANT to be around me!” I get all wowed out like I just discovered I could fly. It’s literally ridiculous.
  • Sometimes I spend way too much time on my hair. When it’s curly. Which is why I like it straight so much cos I can just get up and go. Straight hair doesn’t do anything. I love it! Curly hair is all, “Your mom!” And, “SIJ!” And, “Wanna look nice today or draw attention to your head? The former? Wait, I forget – which is former and which is latter? Oh I can’t hear you over the sound of my awesome curliness. We’ll go with drawing attention to your head.” And then I cry. Ha ha! Not really. But I DO finally realize that people are NOT going to be looking at my hair as hard as I’m looking at it in the mirror so I need to chill out and STOP BEING RIDICULOUS.

 
So there. That’s not all of my ridiculousness. I just needed something to write about and that was a start. Whew. 

sheWRITES is going to be a thing around here. Unpolished, unplanned, un……..I can’t think of a third one. *shrug* Anyway, complete with emotes, I’ll just sit down and write from the hip. The wrist? Whatever. It’s about time, I suppose, that I start moving in a more deliberate direction with putting words together. I’ll do the more polished stuff too. Cos you know. Everyone likes to look nice every once in a while, right? 

Right. Angsty curls be derned. ;)

Reflections: 52 Weeks Ago

Hope

Trickling

Down the drain of discouragement

The bane of encouragement

is Time

Passing

Leaving me behind

Bereaving me of my

Hope.
 

Death

Stalking

The desolate hallways of my heart

I wrestle it hard and fall apart

On rocks

Of Never

Cracked and broken, shattered

Everything that mattered

Gone.

 
Heart

Splitting

Under pressure of faith and doubt

I can’t do this without

The ones

Who stand

Like giant swaying evergreens

Blowing in the Perseverance breeze

For me.
 

God

Working

In the alleyways of pain & wounds

The valley place of shame will soon

be Doors

Opening

Into a garden blooming hope

And everyone will finally know

He is God. ♡

___
August 18, 2014