Sometimes I think I should have named this "My Emo Blog," mainly because I seem to get all emotional and what not in my posts on this blog. But then I would have to Photoshop some pictures of me with an emo haircut, and possibly some makeup. It's really this big commitment that I'm not so sure I want to make. Plus I would have to create all these emo colors for my blog (like black, more black, blacker black, and purple) and start writing poetry about emo themes (like being emo I guess? I never really understood emo poetry). Really, it's just so much work being emo and I'm kind of already doing this whole being me thing, I don't want to add all that on top of it.
Any way, on to the post. As I glance at the time, it is 1:05 in the morning. Why oh why am I still up? Well, long story and I should be getting to bed. I plan on posting a poem to Starlight Ponderings just after this post, but that doesn't explain why I am up while my eyes feel like they're are going to explode out of my head. Well, long story short, being up late is something I've been doing lately and I've been having some discussions with some people. Now, a friend has comitted to making sure I post on at least one of my blogs once a week, and she has basically told me that I should post something now, so I am. I agreed to this because I want to make myself write more and I have a whole slump of not writing to get out of. It is a slump and I need help. Basically, I got addicted to the whole not writing and being lazy and now I need help kicking the habit. And that's where this deal I made comes in.
However, it is late, so I needed a crutch, and I chose A&W Cream Soda. However, the sugar high is gone, and I am too tired for the caffeine to have any effect. I am posting on sheer willpower alone. This is not working, and it is slowing me down on my typing and thought process. I am mistyping words and have to go back on and off, plus I am thinking about the same speed that I type. Normally I am ahead of what I am typing by at least a few sentences, but not now. Oh no, not now. However, I do think it is time to end this post. I hope to give a more meaningful post next time and get Following Christ, No Matter What The Cost back up and running with posts and studies and all that jazz in the near future. Hopefully I can get myself back to doing what I love and moving past this whole slump I have been in for a long time. That's all for now, I'll tag this post later.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Lying to You Completely, While Telling the Whole Truth
What you are about to read is a work of fiction. That is, however, excepting the places where it is not fiction. At those places, it is rather not at all a work of fiction and calling it such would be quite odd indeed. Yet, I will allow you, my dear reader, to determine for yourself where I have opted to let the truth appear.
In the beginning...
God created Man and Woman alike. But I'm sure that's not the right beginning. That's more like the beginning of the beginning, which is far too much of a beginning for this tale, so maybe we should fast forward a bit...
In the beginning, of my reading career that is, I started reading books "too advanced" for my age. (I told you, some of it's fiction, some of it's not, you decide.) I was enthralled how the words on the page played together to make a story. I found myself glued to books, craving more and more of these tomes. Soon, I was reading ahead in all my classes, nothing could sate my appetite for books. I was a reading machine. I won more of those little Personal Pan Pizzas from Pizza Hut than anyone in my whole school because I read constantly. Yet my teachers had yet to really rock my world.
We had been learning to write sentences, simple and "complex." My class felt so proud was we mastered all the sentences our teacher could throw at us. Then we got the curve ball. No, there was no baseball in class, and even if she wanted to, our teacher didn't throw anything at us, but told us to write our own stories. A collective groan was heard throughout the class. Everyone thought it would be too hard to write our own stories, for we had been copying sentences to that point. Well, all this is true, except one child whose eyes got so big, they looked like they were going to pop right out of his little skull. He uttered some words that I'm 100% sure the teacher had never heard before, at least in this order, "You can do that!?"
What was to follow came Nathan, the Story Weaver Extraordinaire. People came from all around to hear me tell tales of mystery, dragons, heroes, and puppies. Not normally in that order, and not always did these stories come with the aforementioned things. It was shocking, it was wonderful. It was all trash.
Rubbish, every little bit of tale weaving I did was laughable at best. It was well in my interest to just quit while I was behind and never look back. And that's exactly what I did. (If you believe that, you haven't been paying attention.)
I became a liar with a knack for getting out of trouble. Few were the people who could catch me in a lie, mainly because I lied constantly. It was like second nature to me. Tell a lie, have people think highly of you, and you have it made. In a sense, I was still weaving my stories that I had loved to tell, just with a lot less effort and an even smaller amount of imagination. I was a out-and-out liar who only used his storytelling powers for evil and self gain. I wasn't aware that with great power comes awesome opportunities to totally express yourself dude! (I apologize for that reference train wreck that 99% of the people who read this won't get.)
I was once asked during a time in my life where I was going nowhere fast, "What are you passionate about?" And, because I apparently like to hit the mute button on life's bigger lessons, I've been asked several more times that exact same question. The question isn't how do I let myself get caught up in the passion of the moment, nor is it what passions others feel I should have. I'm about to lay it thick like peanut butter here, "What are you passionate about?" What makes feel like you were meant to do it? What is it that you do that if you don't do it, it feels like someone took a bite out of you like Scruff McGruff used to take a bite out of crime. (Seriously, does that crazy cartoon police detective dog even still exist? Or did I just totally date myself with that reference? I think it's time for a gritty reboot.)
I was, at some point, I forget which, reminded of that passion for writing/story-telling/being all "expressive." I get encouraged to write and I often try, but then I get discouraged again and I'm pretty sure most of the people who I talk to about my writing want to smack me upside the head and tell me in a gentle, but a smack upside the head way, just write!
Of course then I whine that it's no so easy, maybe even complain how I haven't made a living as a writer yet (if I can even actually get the guts to try to freelance). It's rarely an issue of lack of inspiration. I get inspired by nearly fifty things daily. You want to know the truth? Okay, lean in close and I'll tell you. Closer... A little closer... Wow, do you look silly with your face so close to the screen. That's bad for the eyes you know. See, free medical advice, right there. You can thank me by donation or cookies. I really like cookies.
Oh, right, as I was saying, I get lazy. I get discouraged. I get "lacouraged." (One day I will invent a word and be all relevant and hip for like a full five seconds, after which I will be repeatedly accused of copying the word from someone else.) To be honest, I am a bit scared. Writing is this whole big world and I may never break into it. Or one day I'll be a smash hit and break the writing world's face or something. I'm sure it will all be very painful with all the smashing and breaking going on.
What I am saying is that I need to be a bit better at actually doing the things I know I want to do with my life. I have no idea if I have the slightly bit of talent at all. For all I know, I'm a hack writer with a goatee and a love of cheese. (I do love cheese...) I could do better at a lot of things and it's easy to just look at my faults any get discouraged. But, honestly, I don't think that is what God wants for us. I don't have some super classy Bible verse to back me up on this, but I think God wants us to realize, "Hey, I'm not perfect, and I have tons of room to grow, but God is in control and He made me, so He completely understands where I'm coming from and put these passions into me for a reason." What I'm saying is, what are you passionate about? Have you let the world twist it into an ugly reflection of what God has for you like I did when I would tell so many lies? Or are you taking your God given passions and talents and turning them into something greater?
I am writing more, and I've started really, for the first time in my life, to experiment with my writing style and methods. For the longest time I was on auto-pilot, just letting my writing do it's own thing. I acted like it was a force in itself. Guess what, dear reader, it isn't a force in itself, but a part of who I am. Just like that think this post has reminded you of is a part of you.
I honestly don't know how this post came to this. I found part of this that i had started on before and I realized, I still had a lot to write on it. See, there I am, writing. I'll be writing until the day I die, and maybe, just maybe, God will bless me with something more than a few blogs and some notebooks with my writings peppered within. I don't know, but I never will if I never try. God will never lead me astray, but I can go astray full well on my own.
Heavy, huh? You started this and thought it would be all kicks and giggles and a good time. So did I, but then I had to be honest. Well, on a lighter note, I'll still tell stories about mysteries, dragons, heroes, and puppies, even if not in that order. Because I have a creative God with a sense of humor. I know this is true because He created me and you, and everything in between and beyond, and because at age 22 I'm still tripping over things that aren't there.
In the beginning...
God created Man and Woman alike. But I'm sure that's not the right beginning. That's more like the beginning of the beginning, which is far too much of a beginning for this tale, so maybe we should fast forward a bit...
In the beginning, of my reading career that is, I started reading books "too advanced" for my age. (I told you, some of it's fiction, some of it's not, you decide.) I was enthralled how the words on the page played together to make a story. I found myself glued to books, craving more and more of these tomes. Soon, I was reading ahead in all my classes, nothing could sate my appetite for books. I was a reading machine. I won more of those little Personal Pan Pizzas from Pizza Hut than anyone in my whole school because I read constantly. Yet my teachers had yet to really rock my world.
We had been learning to write sentences, simple and "complex." My class felt so proud was we mastered all the sentences our teacher could throw at us. Then we got the curve ball. No, there was no baseball in class, and even if she wanted to, our teacher didn't throw anything at us, but told us to write our own stories. A collective groan was heard throughout the class. Everyone thought it would be too hard to write our own stories, for we had been copying sentences to that point. Well, all this is true, except one child whose eyes got so big, they looked like they were going to pop right out of his little skull. He uttered some words that I'm 100% sure the teacher had never heard before, at least in this order, "You can do that!?"
What was to follow came Nathan, the Story Weaver Extraordinaire. People came from all around to hear me tell tales of mystery, dragons, heroes, and puppies. Not normally in that order, and not always did these stories come with the aforementioned things. It was shocking, it was wonderful. It was all trash.
Rubbish, every little bit of tale weaving I did was laughable at best. It was well in my interest to just quit while I was behind and never look back. And that's exactly what I did. (If you believe that, you haven't been paying attention.)
I became a liar with a knack for getting out of trouble. Few were the people who could catch me in a lie, mainly because I lied constantly. It was like second nature to me. Tell a lie, have people think highly of you, and you have it made. In a sense, I was still weaving my stories that I had loved to tell, just with a lot less effort and an even smaller amount of imagination. I was a out-and-out liar who only used his storytelling powers for evil and self gain. I wasn't aware that with great power comes awesome opportunities to totally express yourself dude! (I apologize for that reference train wreck that 99% of the people who read this won't get.)
I was once asked during a time in my life where I was going nowhere fast, "What are you passionate about?" And, because I apparently like to hit the mute button on life's bigger lessons, I've been asked several more times that exact same question. The question isn't how do I let myself get caught up in the passion of the moment, nor is it what passions others feel I should have. I'm about to lay it thick like peanut butter here, "What are you passionate about?" What makes feel like you were meant to do it? What is it that you do that if you don't do it, it feels like someone took a bite out of you like Scruff McGruff used to take a bite out of crime. (Seriously, does that crazy cartoon police detective dog even still exist? Or did I just totally date myself with that reference? I think it's time for a gritty reboot.)
I was, at some point, I forget which, reminded of that passion for writing/story-telling/being all "expressive." I get encouraged to write and I often try, but then I get discouraged again and I'm pretty sure most of the people who I talk to about my writing want to smack me upside the head and tell me in a gentle, but a smack upside the head way, just write!
Of course then I whine that it's no so easy, maybe even complain how I haven't made a living as a writer yet (if I can even actually get the guts to try to freelance). It's rarely an issue of lack of inspiration. I get inspired by nearly fifty things daily. You want to know the truth? Okay, lean in close and I'll tell you. Closer... A little closer... Wow, do you look silly with your face so close to the screen. That's bad for the eyes you know. See, free medical advice, right there. You can thank me by donation or cookies. I really like cookies.
Oh, right, as I was saying, I get lazy. I get discouraged. I get "lacouraged." (One day I will invent a word and be all relevant and hip for like a full five seconds, after which I will be repeatedly accused of copying the word from someone else.) To be honest, I am a bit scared. Writing is this whole big world and I may never break into it. Or one day I'll be a smash hit and break the writing world's face or something. I'm sure it will all be very painful with all the smashing and breaking going on.
What I am saying is that I need to be a bit better at actually doing the things I know I want to do with my life. I have no idea if I have the slightly bit of talent at all. For all I know, I'm a hack writer with a goatee and a love of cheese. (I do love cheese...) I could do better at a lot of things and it's easy to just look at my faults any get discouraged. But, honestly, I don't think that is what God wants for us. I don't have some super classy Bible verse to back me up on this, but I think God wants us to realize, "Hey, I'm not perfect, and I have tons of room to grow, but God is in control and He made me, so He completely understands where I'm coming from and put these passions into me for a reason." What I'm saying is, what are you passionate about? Have you let the world twist it into an ugly reflection of what God has for you like I did when I would tell so many lies? Or are you taking your God given passions and talents and turning them into something greater?
I am writing more, and I've started really, for the first time in my life, to experiment with my writing style and methods. For the longest time I was on auto-pilot, just letting my writing do it's own thing. I acted like it was a force in itself. Guess what, dear reader, it isn't a force in itself, but a part of who I am. Just like that think this post has reminded you of is a part of you.
I honestly don't know how this post came to this. I found part of this that i had started on before and I realized, I still had a lot to write on it. See, there I am, writing. I'll be writing until the day I die, and maybe, just maybe, God will bless me with something more than a few blogs and some notebooks with my writings peppered within. I don't know, but I never will if I never try. God will never lead me astray, but I can go astray full well on my own.
Heavy, huh? You started this and thought it would be all kicks and giggles and a good time. So did I, but then I had to be honest. Well, on a lighter note, I'll still tell stories about mysteries, dragons, heroes, and puppies, even if not in that order. Because I have a creative God with a sense of humor. I know this is true because He created me and you, and everything in between and beyond, and because at age 22 I'm still tripping over things that aren't there.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Writing At Things Differently
Recently, I committed myself to writing daily. Something, anything, even if it was complete garbage and would never see the light of day. I have quickly learned how hard that is to do. I never really had the habit to write daily, even though I had always wanted to do so. Writing is as much a part of me as is my own arm, or my brain. When I don't at least commit my thoughts to paper (or blog as the case may be), I feel as if part of me is missing, even blank. I spend a great deal of time thinking up things to write, so it should follow that I spend a great deal of time writing. This has not been the case.
I guess part of me felt like I couldn't be a writer, or at the very least, I was a talentless hack sprawling useless little letters, forming sentences of nothing. I looked to others to tell me if I had it in me to be a writer. I was running. Sure, I may never be a professional writer and these blogs of mine may be the only things I ever publish, but it is high time I stop hiding. So what if so and so believes I have no talent? I didn't just imagine that I have this desire to write. It is real, it is alive. I am alive!
It's not like I haven't heard people say I have talent. I guess I just wanted to believe they were just being nice, but I realized something last night. I have honest friends who would tell me if what I wrote was mostly junk. On top of that, I have a desire and love of writing. So, in that sense, I am already a writer. I still have a lot of work to do, as I am experimenting with my writing style and playing a bit with what I can do, not to mention I'm still struggling to write daily. I'm sure it will become easier as I go. I do know that I need to work on my process, for it is not great and I do not spend the serious time thinking on what I write that I would like. I should spend more time writing and editing my work, until the day it become something I can feel not only good about, but that I worked hard on.
I am reminded of a story, or parable rather, that Jesus told in the Bible. Those of you who know it will call it the Parable of the Talents. For those of you who don't know, Jesus told this story of three servants that were given set amounts of money (talents) to take care of while their master was away. Two of the servants put the money to work and returned more than they were given. The last simply buried his charge, and returned exactly what he was given. The two that returned more were put in charge of greater things, but the one who buried the money was not. God has given me a talent of sorts, I should be putting it to work, increasing it, not burying it. I think now I will.
I guess part of me felt like I couldn't be a writer, or at the very least, I was a talentless hack sprawling useless little letters, forming sentences of nothing. I looked to others to tell me if I had it in me to be a writer. I was running. Sure, I may never be a professional writer and these blogs of mine may be the only things I ever publish, but it is high time I stop hiding. So what if so and so believes I have no talent? I didn't just imagine that I have this desire to write. It is real, it is alive. I am alive!
It's not like I haven't heard people say I have talent. I guess I just wanted to believe they were just being nice, but I realized something last night. I have honest friends who would tell me if what I wrote was mostly junk. On top of that, I have a desire and love of writing. So, in that sense, I am already a writer. I still have a lot of work to do, as I am experimenting with my writing style and playing a bit with what I can do, not to mention I'm still struggling to write daily. I'm sure it will become easier as I go. I do know that I need to work on my process, for it is not great and I do not spend the serious time thinking on what I write that I would like. I should spend more time writing and editing my work, until the day it become something I can feel not only good about, but that I worked hard on.
I am reminded of a story, or parable rather, that Jesus told in the Bible. Those of you who know it will call it the Parable of the Talents. For those of you who don't know, Jesus told this story of three servants that were given set amounts of money (talents) to take care of while their master was away. Two of the servants put the money to work and returned more than they were given. The last simply buried his charge, and returned exactly what he was given. The two that returned more were put in charge of greater things, but the one who buried the money was not. God has given me a talent of sorts, I should be putting it to work, increasing it, not burying it. I think now I will.
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