White Winter Hymnal

I sat down to start this blog for a few reasons, many of which are new, many of which are the reasons for all my updates.

As is typical, I'm procrastinating what I ought to be doing. Typically, all bloggers do this, as inspiration only comes when you have some other very pressing matter to attend to.
How typical.
Ever say a word so many times you can almost hear the home country in it?

Another reason I started writing was because I haven't done so in quite a while. When school starts, most of the blogs I follow slow down quite a bit. As a result I feel there isn't a need to write, because no one is online to exchange thoughts with. But, as always, my Gran complimented the blog and told me it brought her such joy. How could I not write after that?

Lastly is that I was in such a good mood that I itched to express it somehow.
Imagine that; in a good mood alone at the office on a Friday night. I guess I have a lot of things to look forward to.

Recently there was a great change in my life that made me realize I haven't been taking good enough care of myself.

Oh goodness, I hope that did not come off as self absorbed and moody as it did when I read over it. I mean of course I am taking care of myself, but I hadn't done very much for myself lately. I wasn't expanding or tasting life like I should have been. I wasn't embracing community like I should have been, wasn't focusing on God like I should have been.

As awful as those moments are when we "stray from the path" in a very Hallmarky way, they are worth finding your way out of the brush, back to the pavement.
Like walking out of a matinee.


The greatest part? I found a church I l.o.v.e.
I have never gone to a church I love. The people, pastor, gospel all bring such comfort.

Indeed, I'll take the pavement.

Trying to look interested.

Sketching never goes as planned.

You can never find the desire.
When you have found the desire, you can't find unlined paper.
When you have found the unlined paper, you can't find a ball point pen
When you have found the ball point, your hand can't find the rhythm.
When you have found the rhythm, your pen can never find the lines it is supposed to.

Does that make sense. When you look down at the balnk paper, you can see the lines and where your pen ought to go. There it is, not on the paper yet, but you can see it. Its perfect, and easy.

Then your pen touches paper.

"What the heck is that?" Looking down, there is a half retarded drawn line on the page.
Desire-shrivled.
unlined paper-crumpled
ball point pen- yelled at angrily, maybe tossed.
rhythm-evaporated.

Ay, sketching never goes as planned.






Corey has been reading me his history notes (for a test tomorrow) for the past .hour. .and. .a. .half.

However, I have learned that the government used to sterilize women while they were under anesthesia without their consent.

Also, Theo Roosevelt got shot one time during a presidential campaign. He gave his speech anyways with a bullet in his lung.