Yes, Lord Jesus, thank You so much. I got through that chapter I've been struggling with. I didn't think I was gonna make it. I had to hammer out one more page and I was drawing a blank. But the words found me and there they were. And here it is.
Still working my way through Romans. Paul's really laying it all out in the open for the folks in Rome. Most of what I read was about sin and how God's grace is shown to us when we sin and he forgives us for it. Does this mean that we should continue to sin, so that God's grace can continue to be shown in us. No! When we were saved, we died to sin. You can't continue living in something that is dead. Come on folks. Get with the program.
That girl I was friends with in college (and I guess we're still sort of friends now) called me out of the blue. Maybe she read my post...or maybe she got my email and decided it would be easier to call since her writing skills aren't so good. Alas, I was at work. Should I call her back? Yes, I probably should. Tonight? Maybe. But I've got a movie to watch. We'll see.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Monday, May 30, 2005
By the wayside
Okay, I have a problem. Or many problems. Or maybe it's not a problem. Maybe it's just a thing. Maybe even a good thing. But here it is. I think too much. Normally, you would think (ha, ha) that it's okay to think. Think before you speak. Think before you act. But I tend to do so much thinking that I silence myself or immobilize myself. That's why it's best that I get blindsided by life, otherwise I'm bound to get nothing accomplished. What I'm alluding to is my proposed article on Acts 13:48 and Romans 1:20. I was all set to write it one night when I started thinking about it. I had already been thinking on it for a while, and I thought I had it all set. I knew what I wanted to say. Everything seemed logical and correct, and it still is. But all those thoughts led to other thoughts which led to other questions until it has become this gargantuan thing in my mind. Throw on top of it all of my current bible reading and new understanding that I receive daily, and it's becoming so large that my tiny little brain can barely keep up. I'll get to it. I can't say when. Maybe by the end of the week. Maybe ten years from now. But I'll keep working on it, praying about it, asking God to give me wisdom and the ability to convey that wisdom. I'm a young guy. I am. Twenty-five years seems a long time, but I still feel like I'm a teenager. I feel so immature sometimes. And other times I feel really mature. Sometimes I think I'm mature, and I soon realize how naive I am. It's this daily struggle of life. I'm sure you older folk are sitting back and laughing. Poor kid. Someday he'll learn as I have learned. But, yeah. I think and think and think. The main focus of all of this thinking and talking I've been doing is on Salvation. I was pushing along through Romans this morning and Paul was talking about the men of faith in the old testament, before God gave the law to Moses. There was no law when God promised Abraham that he would be the father of many nations. Abraham lived by faith in God and that he would come through on His promise. Faith in the promise. That's how the Old Testament people received salvation. It wasn't by following the law. For the law only showed them their sins and condemned them. But by trying to follow God's law and do the things that God required to atone for their sins, they showed that they had faith that God would fulfill His promise. That was cool.
I didn't write as much as I wanted to this morning, but I wrote more than I had been. I pray that I can finally get through the chapter that I'm on in the morning. Seems like I've been writing this same chapter forever. The story is starting to get real heavy at this point. Spiritually heavy, in other words.
Yes, she has kids. Good job, Inspector. Still don't know if she's married. But...um, yeah...Let me tell you a little story. Actually this story could go on for days, but I'll give the shortest version I can. I met this girl in college. Last semester of my Senior year, to be more correct. I liked her. Imagine that. We were friends. Or rather we became friends, of a sort. We had a class together, so we studied together on occasion. We played tennis together a few times. She didn't have a car, so I took her places a lot. My parents said she was just using me for transportation. They didn't trust her. They didn't trust her kind, I think. She was foreign. But I didn't care. I liked her. We were friends. So we graduated. She went to Vermont. I went back to the sticks. She called me. We exchanged emails. All those things to keep in touch before we realized that our relationship, our friendship, was waning and fading. She had another semester to finish up, so she went back to the University. She called me and wanted me to take her out. I obliged. I drove the hour or so and picked her up and we drove another hour or so to the City and ate Chinese and went to a Korean market and it seems like we did something else. Maybe not. You know, all this time we were friends I kept expecting something to happen. I don't know. That she would kiss me and declare her love for me. My wildest dream. But no, nothing. Then I didn't hear from her for a couple of months. When she finally got in touch with me again, she was living in Minnesota with her older sister. She would call me and we would have nothing to talk about and I would sit there listening, hoping. But nothing. Then I didn't hear from her for a long while. In the meantime, I found a girl, lost her, found her again, and had just lost her again when I got a phone call. She was back at the University. She was working on her Masters. I took her out to dinner. We talked about old times. We always talked better face to face. We just didn't click on the phone for some reason. I guess because you can't have long silences on the phone without someone getting impatient. In her apartment we could sit there and just be and say whatever we liked when we felt like saying it. Then she broke the news to me. She had been raped and gotten pregnant and the child was living with her parents. She had been afraid to tell me. Afraid to tell anyone. She'd wound up around New York in some Catholic thing while she was pregnant and catching buses and trains and what not to get to and from work. I don't remember all of the details. Even with this new knowledge I sat there hoping, thinking, but nothing. We kept in touch off and on. We exchanged a few short emails a few weeks ago. She's pregnant again. This time of her own doing. But she still isn't married. I think she would have told me if she'd gotten married. Now and then I think that she'll call me and tell me all those things I wanted to hear in the beginning when everything was still so full of potential and all the ideals I hold in my mind could still be true. But I know it can't be. If she called me and wanted to marry me and was sincere (she used to ask me to marry her all the time, but I knew she was kidding), would I do it? Would I let this life I have imagined go by the wayside to make this muddled dream a reality? So now I think of this other girl, the one who has more recently caught my fancy, knowing what I know now, what the silent inspector has shown me, always assuming she is unmarried (the inspector is still working on that aspect of the case). Would I let my hopes and dreams go unfulfilled if she were to smile at me beautifully in that quiet way she has and let those tears that always seem ready to fall roll down her face as she takes my hand. I like to think that I wouldn't. But I'm twenty-five. I'm old. Life has to move on sometime, doesn't it?
You know, I just realized that I gave that friend from college the link to this blog. I don’t think she reads it. She might have read a post or two when I first gave her the link, but not anymore. But does it really matter. She would just laugh and send me an email telling me what a child I am. She would tell me that she already knew all those things, those secret desires of my heart, and thought it was funny and pathetic the way I kept thinking, hoping, dreaming. But whatever.
I didn't write as much as I wanted to this morning, but I wrote more than I had been. I pray that I can finally get through the chapter that I'm on in the morning. Seems like I've been writing this same chapter forever. The story is starting to get real heavy at this point. Spiritually heavy, in other words.
Yes, she has kids. Good job, Inspector. Still don't know if she's married. But...um, yeah...Let me tell you a little story. Actually this story could go on for days, but I'll give the shortest version I can. I met this girl in college. Last semester of my Senior year, to be more correct. I liked her. Imagine that. We were friends. Or rather we became friends, of a sort. We had a class together, so we studied together on occasion. We played tennis together a few times. She didn't have a car, so I took her places a lot. My parents said she was just using me for transportation. They didn't trust her. They didn't trust her kind, I think. She was foreign. But I didn't care. I liked her. We were friends. So we graduated. She went to Vermont. I went back to the sticks. She called me. We exchanged emails. All those things to keep in touch before we realized that our relationship, our friendship, was waning and fading. She had another semester to finish up, so she went back to the University. She called me and wanted me to take her out. I obliged. I drove the hour or so and picked her up and we drove another hour or so to the City and ate Chinese and went to a Korean market and it seems like we did something else. Maybe not. You know, all this time we were friends I kept expecting something to happen. I don't know. That she would kiss me and declare her love for me. My wildest dream. But no, nothing. Then I didn't hear from her for a couple of months. When she finally got in touch with me again, she was living in Minnesota with her older sister. She would call me and we would have nothing to talk about and I would sit there listening, hoping. But nothing. Then I didn't hear from her for a long while. In the meantime, I found a girl, lost her, found her again, and had just lost her again when I got a phone call. She was back at the University. She was working on her Masters. I took her out to dinner. We talked about old times. We always talked better face to face. We just didn't click on the phone for some reason. I guess because you can't have long silences on the phone without someone getting impatient. In her apartment we could sit there and just be and say whatever we liked when we felt like saying it. Then she broke the news to me. She had been raped and gotten pregnant and the child was living with her parents. She had been afraid to tell me. Afraid to tell anyone. She'd wound up around New York in some Catholic thing while she was pregnant and catching buses and trains and what not to get to and from work. I don't remember all of the details. Even with this new knowledge I sat there hoping, thinking, but nothing. We kept in touch off and on. We exchanged a few short emails a few weeks ago. She's pregnant again. This time of her own doing. But she still isn't married. I think she would have told me if she'd gotten married. Now and then I think that she'll call me and tell me all those things I wanted to hear in the beginning when everything was still so full of potential and all the ideals I hold in my mind could still be true. But I know it can't be. If she called me and wanted to marry me and was sincere (she used to ask me to marry her all the time, but I knew she was kidding), would I do it? Would I let this life I have imagined go by the wayside to make this muddled dream a reality? So now I think of this other girl, the one who has more recently caught my fancy, knowing what I know now, what the silent inspector has shown me, always assuming she is unmarried (the inspector is still working on that aspect of the case). Would I let my hopes and dreams go unfulfilled if she were to smile at me beautifully in that quiet way she has and let those tears that always seem ready to fall roll down her face as she takes my hand. I like to think that I wouldn't. But I'm twenty-five. I'm old. Life has to move on sometime, doesn't it?
You know, I just realized that I gave that friend from college the link to this blog. I don’t think she reads it. She might have read a post or two when I first gave her the link, but not anymore. But does it really matter. She would just laugh and send me an email telling me what a child I am. She would tell me that she already knew all those things, those secret desires of my heart, and thought it was funny and pathetic the way I kept thinking, hoping, dreaming. But whatever.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Beautiful when she cries
You know, every once in a while, when you're starting to feel good about things again, you get brought low. Nothing happened. Nobody did or said anything to me. I was just sitting there thinking about the few meager things that seemed to be going pretty well in my life, when I realized how foolish everything seemed. It's like things become important for one reason or another, and you think about them, perhaps dwell on them. And then you're like, "Oh, wait. That's stupid." Oh, well. New things will become important again. So long as the main things stay important, my Christian walk and my writing, life can go on.
I read chapter 2 of Romans today. Wow, two days, two chapters. I used to do that. Just one chapter a day. I would sit down, and it would be like, "Okay, let's get this over with." And I'd read my one chapter real quick. I didn't take the time to dwell on what I had read or even pray about it. It was better than nothing, I suppose, but I wasn't growing very much spiritually. I think I was actually regressing. Then there were times when I wasn't reading my bible at all, but I was doing more thinking and pondering on the things of God and what Jesus did for us and growing spiritually a little more. It took a while, but I've finally managed to put the two together. So much that my life is nearly consumed by it. And that's really awesome. I finally feel like I'm slowly becoming the person God wants me to be. I'm not there yet. I may never actually get there until I die and cross the threshold of the pearly gates, but I think the striving to become is what God really wants.
No writing, I repeat, because it is Sunday. Last night I wrote about a paragraph. Five or six lines. I wouldn't have written anything, but I had already turned my other computer on, so I had to write something. I felt really bad yesterday. I don't feel so great today, but at least I feel manageable. Yesterday was just horrible. Bad day at work on top of how I felt. I think it's because I didn't eat enough yesterday. A few cups of coffee and a PayDay candybar is all that had made it into my stomach until 9 o'clock. I need to get on a real diet. Not this not eating very much diet. I find myself hungry and tired all the time. I have a friend encouraging me to do weight watchers. I tried Atkins once before and it made me feel all weird after a while. The South Beach diet seems too expensive, and I don't want to have to buy another book. I can get all the info for weight watchers for free. So maybe that's what I'll do. I think I'm chemically imbalanced inside or something. Things aren't clicking. And no, I don't mean a mental problem...I don't think. Just this feeling bad all the time. I take medicine for my thyroid. Something's wrong with my thyroid, just not sure what. It either produces too much or too little of something. It's a low dosage, though. I think the doctor needs to up it, if I ever make it back for more bloodwork. I just can't afford anything. Well, that's not true. Yeah, it is. It should be true, anyways. My parents would gladly pick up the tab if it meant making their baby boy feel better. I just won't tell them about the cd's and books and junk food that I buy...on rare occasion...um...Wait, they already know. They see the credit card bill. Anyways. I must be boring you to death. I'll send flowers to your funeral.
I guess I should pray about all these things I babble on about. I usually wait until I'm about to go to sleep to pray, which means I get halfway through the prayer before I fall asleep. Well, I say little prayers throughout the day, especially if I'm being tempted by evil or just having an all around humdinger like Saturday. But I have this concept in my mind that I must have this one big get together with God each day to lay it all out in the open. It's not a bad idea, really, but I understand that just before I go to sleep isn't the best time to do it. I try to keep a prayerful mind throughout the day, however, and I know God knows my every thought. So it's not like we don't keep in touch.
Later, Dude(tte)
I read chapter 2 of Romans today. Wow, two days, two chapters. I used to do that. Just one chapter a day. I would sit down, and it would be like, "Okay, let's get this over with." And I'd read my one chapter real quick. I didn't take the time to dwell on what I had read or even pray about it. It was better than nothing, I suppose, but I wasn't growing very much spiritually. I think I was actually regressing. Then there were times when I wasn't reading my bible at all, but I was doing more thinking and pondering on the things of God and what Jesus did for us and growing spiritually a little more. It took a while, but I've finally managed to put the two together. So much that my life is nearly consumed by it. And that's really awesome. I finally feel like I'm slowly becoming the person God wants me to be. I'm not there yet. I may never actually get there until I die and cross the threshold of the pearly gates, but I think the striving to become is what God really wants.
No writing, I repeat, because it is Sunday. Last night I wrote about a paragraph. Five or six lines. I wouldn't have written anything, but I had already turned my other computer on, so I had to write something. I felt really bad yesterday. I don't feel so great today, but at least I feel manageable. Yesterday was just horrible. Bad day at work on top of how I felt. I think it's because I didn't eat enough yesterday. A few cups of coffee and a PayDay candybar is all that had made it into my stomach until 9 o'clock. I need to get on a real diet. Not this not eating very much diet. I find myself hungry and tired all the time. I have a friend encouraging me to do weight watchers. I tried Atkins once before and it made me feel all weird after a while. The South Beach diet seems too expensive, and I don't want to have to buy another book. I can get all the info for weight watchers for free. So maybe that's what I'll do. I think I'm chemically imbalanced inside or something. Things aren't clicking. And no, I don't mean a mental problem...I don't think. Just this feeling bad all the time. I take medicine for my thyroid. Something's wrong with my thyroid, just not sure what. It either produces too much or too little of something. It's a low dosage, though. I think the doctor needs to up it, if I ever make it back for more bloodwork. I just can't afford anything. Well, that's not true. Yeah, it is. It should be true, anyways. My parents would gladly pick up the tab if it meant making their baby boy feel better. I just won't tell them about the cd's and books and junk food that I buy...on rare occasion...um...Wait, they already know. They see the credit card bill. Anyways. I must be boring you to death. I'll send flowers to your funeral.
I guess I should pray about all these things I babble on about. I usually wait until I'm about to go to sleep to pray, which means I get halfway through the prayer before I fall asleep. Well, I say little prayers throughout the day, especially if I'm being tempted by evil or just having an all around humdinger like Saturday. But I have this concept in my mind that I must have this one big get together with God each day to lay it all out in the open. It's not a bad idea, really, but I understand that just before I go to sleep isn't the best time to do it. I try to keep a prayerful mind throughout the day, however, and I know God knows my every thought. So it's not like we don't keep in touch.
Later, Dude(tte)
Saturday, May 28, 2005
No, they weren't Post-its
Work was horrible. I had to be there a few hours earlier than normal, so I didn't get any writing done. I didn't even finish my bible reading. The guy that was supposed to close didn't show up, and I was by myself most of the day. Being a Saturday at the Evil Empire, you can imagine my department looked pretty shabby trying to go it alone. I think management did a backflip. I had a bunch of stuff for the closer to do. Since he's new, I was leaving him the stuff he knew how to do. There's no such thing as learning on a Saturday or at the first of the month. But when he didn't show up, I ended up having to do all those things myself, which meant I didn't get anything else done in my final hours.
I started reading Romans today, which meant I went through 1:20. I had forgotten how important the surrounding verses are as well. I'm gonna get a shower and maybe see if I can't write a page or two before I hit the sack. Tomorrow's Sunday, so no writing.
I think I may have embarassed a co-worker today. And it would have to be the very girl who dominates my thoughts. She dropped something. It fell out of her work vest pockets. I was gonna be nice and pick it up for her. When I realized what it was, I refrained. "You dropped something," I said, and walked away. I realized later it would have been better to have not said anything at all, other than 'hello' or rather 'what's up' or 'que pasa'. She probably didn't think anything of it, though. She didn't act weird towards me the rest of the day or anything.
Anyways, later.
I started reading Romans today, which meant I went through 1:20. I had forgotten how important the surrounding verses are as well. I'm gonna get a shower and maybe see if I can't write a page or two before I hit the sack. Tomorrow's Sunday, so no writing.
I think I may have embarassed a co-worker today. And it would have to be the very girl who dominates my thoughts. She dropped something. It fell out of her work vest pockets. I was gonna be nice and pick it up for her. When I realized what it was, I refrained. "You dropped something," I said, and walked away. I realized later it would have been better to have not said anything at all, other than 'hello' or rather 'what's up' or 'que pasa'. She probably didn't think anything of it, though. She didn't act weird towards me the rest of the day or anything.
Anyways, later.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Final Act
I finished Acts today. Ready to get into Paul's letters. I like Paul's letters. He had a lot of awesome things to say. Though I wonder how many of his letters got lost or weren't included in the Bible. I didn't write a lick today. I felt bad all day for some reason. Really tired right now. I worked about five hours in my garden though. I feel a little better about it now. Not so many weeds choking my plants. I'm gonna have an awesome potato crop. Oh, the wonderful things God creates. It's back to work tomorrow. I better hit the sack. I was gonna write an ode, but I didn't feel like it. Maybe tomorrow. Sorry.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Secret Desires
Writing hasn't been so good the last couple of days. Less than four pages between yesterday and today. And today I had the day off. For some reason I never manage to get much done on my days off. Well, I was gonna work in my garden since it's becoming uncontrollable, but it was raining, so I slept in, then I goofed around and ate lunch and finally sat down and read my bible around 2 or so. I'm nearing the end of Acts. I'm still thinking and working on my little article on Acts 13:48 and Romans 1:20. And there's another verse in Acts. Acts 17:23, I think, that confirms Romans 1:20. Anyways, I've still been talking to people about it and reading different bible translations and praying about it. I'm not a preacher and I'm still fairly new to this getting into the meat of the word business, so I want to make sure I get things straight before I go through with this. And even then I'll present it to you with a disclaimer. I'm a timid fellow, but I'm learning to be bold in Christ.
Back to my writing. I haven't really felt bad that I've not written much. It seems the less that I write at a time, the more focused the writing is. I have a problem with generalizing scenes in the first draft rather than really hammering it out for all it's worth. That's why it's good for me not to know what's supposed to happen next. Because then I do a lot of hammering on the same nail, which gives me lots of options for the second draft. A few weeks ago, I wrote this scene just because I was trying to fill space that didn't really fit with the flow of the current action, but it turned into a great scene that has set up many other great scenes that I will eventually get to. In other words, you have to really search hard and poke and prod in some unexpected places to find the gemstones. If you just ruffle up the dirt as you zoom along, you're not likely to find many, which is what i've been doing on those days I whip out six or ten pages. Yeah, I wrote a lot and moved the story along quite a bit, but those little things that make a story nice aren't as present.
And blah, blah, blah. It's late. I'm tired. I've already written more in this post than I did on my novel today. I should be ashamed. But I'm not.
Back to my writing. I haven't really felt bad that I've not written much. It seems the less that I write at a time, the more focused the writing is. I have a problem with generalizing scenes in the first draft rather than really hammering it out for all it's worth. That's why it's good for me not to know what's supposed to happen next. Because then I do a lot of hammering on the same nail, which gives me lots of options for the second draft. A few weeks ago, I wrote this scene just because I was trying to fill space that didn't really fit with the flow of the current action, but it turned into a great scene that has set up many other great scenes that I will eventually get to. In other words, you have to really search hard and poke and prod in some unexpected places to find the gemstones. If you just ruffle up the dirt as you zoom along, you're not likely to find many, which is what i've been doing on those days I whip out six or ten pages. Yeah, I wrote a lot and moved the story along quite a bit, but those little things that make a story nice aren't as present.
And blah, blah, blah. It's late. I'm tired. I've already written more in this post than I did on my novel today. I should be ashamed. But I'm not.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Descartes and Costello
I am not.
Not what?
I am not.
I don't think so.
God is.
God is what?
God is.
Yeah, I think so.
I am not, but God is.
You are.
No, I'm not.
Yes, you are.
God is.
Yes, He is.
The mountains, the seas, the stars.
He is.
But I am not.
Yes, you are because He is.
Not what?
I am not.
I don't think so.
God is.
God is what?
God is.
Yeah, I think so.
I am not, but God is.
You are.
No, I'm not.
Yes, you are.
God is.
Yes, He is.
The mountains, the seas, the stars.
He is.
But I am not.
Yes, you are because He is.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Lyrical Gangster
Not really. But I'm super tired tonight, so I'm going to take a crack at a short poem that may or may not rhyme about this girl I have alluded to.
Some 15 Billion people,
perhaps,
have lived,
between now and the past.
Each one,
at some point,
found love,
or were shunned.
I see it,
with her,
this potential,
for love.
For holding,
and caring,
and anger,
and tears.
I've sought,
reached out,
been shy,
been shunned.
I fear,
those feelings,
will tear me apart,
again.
The darkness,
that follows,
consumes me,
I can't see the light.
But there she is,
she's shining,
she's smiling,
So beautiful.
In her silence,
she has grace,
behind her eyes,
there is cunning.
Not for me,
I fear,
but I can't stop thinking,
I can't stop compromising my own hopes and dreams and desires to make this so.
Yeah, I told you I can't write poetry. I talked extensively again with my department manager. Again...maybe I never told you about the times we talked before. This is a different person than the one I told you about that had some weird ideas. I talked to my department manager for a goodish while. We can hardly work, we get so interested in our conversation. He's a cool guy. I felt bad for talking instead of working, so I forewent my first 15 minute break, so it was more like I only didn't work for five or six minutes, which is okay. I ended up making him late getting home, but I don't think he minded. He's going to send me some interesting stuff on numbers in the bible and how numbers unify the old and new testaments together. In exchange I'm gonna send him some of my wild and whacky story ideas to think on, see if he can help me focus the message I'm going to try and include into these stories.
Okay, okay. I finished chapter 17 on my novel this morning. By chapter I mean ten or twelve or so pages. Usually ten. I'm not sure how the chapters are actually gonna line up when I set out to do the second draft. Right now everything's pretty much a massive freewrite. I'm almost two-thirds of the way through the first draft. I got about five or six more major scenes before I can move into the last act. I'm probably going to end up making myself cry before I get to the end of this. And that's saying a lot since I didn't even cry when I watched The Passion of the Christ. But I was a different person back then. I used to be really cold. But now I try to let my spirit be free and abound with the rest of God's creation. But the writing's going good and the bible reading's going good. The only thing not going good is my job at the Evil Empire. But I'll never be happy at any job until I'm a full-time writer. Writing and yardwork are the only work related things that make me happy. Not sure why I like yardwork so much with my horrible allergies. But I do. I just love it with a sneeze and gallons of snot.
I apologize for that horrible poem. I should probably remove it, but I'm just too tired to be embarrassed about it right now. And I don't figure anybody reads this Blog anyways. So what's the difference.
Some 15 Billion people,
perhaps,
have lived,
between now and the past.
Each one,
at some point,
found love,
or were shunned.
I see it,
with her,
this potential,
for love.
For holding,
and caring,
and anger,
and tears.
I've sought,
reached out,
been shy,
been shunned.
I fear,
those feelings,
will tear me apart,
again.
The darkness,
that follows,
consumes me,
I can't see the light.
But there she is,
she's shining,
she's smiling,
So beautiful.
In her silence,
she has grace,
behind her eyes,
there is cunning.
Not for me,
I fear,
but I can't stop thinking,
I can't stop compromising my own hopes and dreams and desires to make this so.
Yeah, I told you I can't write poetry. I talked extensively again with my department manager. Again...maybe I never told you about the times we talked before. This is a different person than the one I told you about that had some weird ideas. I talked to my department manager for a goodish while. We can hardly work, we get so interested in our conversation. He's a cool guy. I felt bad for talking instead of working, so I forewent my first 15 minute break, so it was more like I only didn't work for five or six minutes, which is okay. I ended up making him late getting home, but I don't think he minded. He's going to send me some interesting stuff on numbers in the bible and how numbers unify the old and new testaments together. In exchange I'm gonna send him some of my wild and whacky story ideas to think on, see if he can help me focus the message I'm going to try and include into these stories.
Okay, okay. I finished chapter 17 on my novel this morning. By chapter I mean ten or twelve or so pages. Usually ten. I'm not sure how the chapters are actually gonna line up when I set out to do the second draft. Right now everything's pretty much a massive freewrite. I'm almost two-thirds of the way through the first draft. I got about five or six more major scenes before I can move into the last act. I'm probably going to end up making myself cry before I get to the end of this. And that's saying a lot since I didn't even cry when I watched The Passion of the Christ. But I was a different person back then. I used to be really cold. But now I try to let my spirit be free and abound with the rest of God's creation. But the writing's going good and the bible reading's going good. The only thing not going good is my job at the Evil Empire. But I'll never be happy at any job until I'm a full-time writer. Writing and yardwork are the only work related things that make me happy. Not sure why I like yardwork so much with my horrible allergies. But I do. I just love it with a sneeze and gallons of snot.
I apologize for that horrible poem. I should probably remove it, but I'm just too tired to be embarrassed about it right now. And I don't figure anybody reads this Blog anyways. So what's the difference.
Monday, May 23, 2005
The Answers To The Questions Nobody Even Wants To Know
After reading and rereading Acts 13:48, I finally bowed my head and prayed about it and asked God to explain the verse to me. And wouldn't you know, He did. Instantly thoughts began to fill my head, and there it was. I also asked a friend to read the verse and give me her take on it, and she brought up another angle to look at the verse with. Then I began thinking about Romans 1:20 and coupled it with Acts 13:48. So triple all of that with what my friend told me, and I've still got a lot of thinking and praying to do before I venture to explain anything to my fellow bloggers. But it all has to do with who can be saved, who will be saved, and why nobody will have an excuse as they stand before God as to why they did not accept salvation. So it'll probably be Thursday or Friday, or perhaps later, before I can push ahead with it.
I wrote about three or four pages this morning. I actually got started a lot sooner than I normally do. I actually stayed awake after the alarm woke me up the first time. I did my bible reading before I finished drinking my first mug of coffee. And I had taken my shower the night before, so that fifteen minutes was free and available. So here it is, half past nine or so, and I've got a solid two hours in which to write and two full scenes already planned in my head, but I only manged somewhere between three and four pages. On a normal morning I only sit down and write for about an hour and usually manage at least five pages. But in my defense, a storm passed through and I got all jittery. I wasn't scared. I love storms. But I guess that instinct to seek shelter crops up even though we're already perfectly sheltered. I was in a house, and I had easy access to a basement on the other side of the house. I could sit and stare at a tornado until it was a block away and still get to the basement in time. You would think the energy the storm gave me would boost my writing speed and I could whip out ten pages an hour. But I can't concentrate if I have too much energy. Writing isn't manual labor, unfortunately. If it were, I wouldn't have an ounce of body fat. You want some irony? In the very scene I was working on, it was beginning to storm just as it was beginning to storm in the real world. I guess that's irony. The whole point of the scene was that it was beginning to storm and my characters had to hasten what they were doing. I had written the beginning of that scene on Saturday, so it's not like the real storm influenced what I was writing. Coincidence more than irony. Though I suppose even a coincidence could be found ironic. Maybe irony isn't the word I'm looking for. Maybe it's some other word. My brain isn't working too well. I need to go to sleep.
I got a few new story ideas on the drive to work. One was for a murder mystery. I'm not big on murder mysteries. They're usually too predictable. And I have to think on them for a long time before I can even begin to write them because I want to see how I can make it not so predictable. The other one dealt with attempted suicide. I have a lot of story ideas that deal with attempted suicide. Suicide is a horrible thing. I had a sort of friend in college who was potentially suicidal. She was always depressed and always talking that way. And it seems like once she made some comment about wanting to kill herself, and one of us, it may have been me but I don't think it was, told her to just go ahead. She didn't. But, man, if that had been the feather on her back. It would have freaked us out. I think though that psychologists say that if someone is talking about committing suicide, then they're less likely to do it. They say that when someone is coming out of a depression and feeling good about themselves again, that's when they kill themselves. That's when they finally feel enough self worth to believe that it might actually mean something if they take their own life. See what I mean. Maybe not. I'm not sure what I mean half the time. I use all these suicide stories to portray the true meaning of life. Yes, I know the true meaning of life. I don't know the secret to life. But I know why we're here. I'll tell you about it later, though. It would be nice to back up this truth with some scripture. I know it's in there, but I don't remember where. Some of it I came up with on my own, or should I say under the influence of the Holy Spirit. But I often find that these things I thought I came up with on my own were already in the Bible, I just hadn't come across it yet. Romans 1:20 for example. Or I couldn't remember reading it. I've read all of the new testament a couple of times and a good portion of the old testament. Somewhere around a third of it. So if it's in the Bible, there's a fifty-fifty shot that I've read it at least once. I need to buckle down and work my way through the old testament. I need to read all the prophets for sure. I've read through, or skimmed through rather, the law of Moses and much of the purging of evil from the land and what not. I left of somewhere around Kings or Judges. It was a long time ago, though. There's a lot of wisdom in the old testament and it really helps you put the new testament into perspective. But a lot of it, about the first third or so, is really hard to swallow with all the laws and history. I really better be hitting the sack.
I wrote about three or four pages this morning. I actually got started a lot sooner than I normally do. I actually stayed awake after the alarm woke me up the first time. I did my bible reading before I finished drinking my first mug of coffee. And I had taken my shower the night before, so that fifteen minutes was free and available. So here it is, half past nine or so, and I've got a solid two hours in which to write and two full scenes already planned in my head, but I only manged somewhere between three and four pages. On a normal morning I only sit down and write for about an hour and usually manage at least five pages. But in my defense, a storm passed through and I got all jittery. I wasn't scared. I love storms. But I guess that instinct to seek shelter crops up even though we're already perfectly sheltered. I was in a house, and I had easy access to a basement on the other side of the house. I could sit and stare at a tornado until it was a block away and still get to the basement in time. You would think the energy the storm gave me would boost my writing speed and I could whip out ten pages an hour. But I can't concentrate if I have too much energy. Writing isn't manual labor, unfortunately. If it were, I wouldn't have an ounce of body fat. You want some irony? In the very scene I was working on, it was beginning to storm just as it was beginning to storm in the real world. I guess that's irony. The whole point of the scene was that it was beginning to storm and my characters had to hasten what they were doing. I had written the beginning of that scene on Saturday, so it's not like the real storm influenced what I was writing. Coincidence more than irony. Though I suppose even a coincidence could be found ironic. Maybe irony isn't the word I'm looking for. Maybe it's some other word. My brain isn't working too well. I need to go to sleep.
I got a few new story ideas on the drive to work. One was for a murder mystery. I'm not big on murder mysteries. They're usually too predictable. And I have to think on them for a long time before I can even begin to write them because I want to see how I can make it not so predictable. The other one dealt with attempted suicide. I have a lot of story ideas that deal with attempted suicide. Suicide is a horrible thing. I had a sort of friend in college who was potentially suicidal. She was always depressed and always talking that way. And it seems like once she made some comment about wanting to kill herself, and one of us, it may have been me but I don't think it was, told her to just go ahead. She didn't. But, man, if that had been the feather on her back. It would have freaked us out. I think though that psychologists say that if someone is talking about committing suicide, then they're less likely to do it. They say that when someone is coming out of a depression and feeling good about themselves again, that's when they kill themselves. That's when they finally feel enough self worth to believe that it might actually mean something if they take their own life. See what I mean. Maybe not. I'm not sure what I mean half the time. I use all these suicide stories to portray the true meaning of life. Yes, I know the true meaning of life. I don't know the secret to life. But I know why we're here. I'll tell you about it later, though. It would be nice to back up this truth with some scripture. I know it's in there, but I don't remember where. Some of it I came up with on my own, or should I say under the influence of the Holy Spirit. But I often find that these things I thought I came up with on my own were already in the Bible, I just hadn't come across it yet. Romans 1:20 for example. Or I couldn't remember reading it. I've read all of the new testament a couple of times and a good portion of the old testament. Somewhere around a third of it. So if it's in the Bible, there's a fifty-fifty shot that I've read it at least once. I need to buckle down and work my way through the old testament. I need to read all the prophets for sure. I've read through, or skimmed through rather, the law of Moses and much of the purging of evil from the land and what not. I left of somewhere around Kings or Judges. It was a long time ago, though. There's a lot of wisdom in the old testament and it really helps you put the new testament into perspective. But a lot of it, about the first third or so, is really hard to swallow with all the laws and history. I really better be hitting the sack.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Chosen, Appointed, Ordained for Eternal Life
Acts 13:48. Read that verse and tell me what you think it means. I read it in five different versions. I'll talk more on it later, but I took my contacts out, so I can barely see what I'm writing now. (Please excuse all typos and misspellings.)
I didn't write any today, like I said before, because it's Sunday. Today was our company picnic. I didn't join the festivities, however I did nab a few hotdogs on my lunch break as they were wrapping things up. So that was good. I did get a few ideas for stories bouncing around my head that I had to jot down. In fact, there's one bouncing around my head right now that I just got as I was taking a shower a few minutes ago. I need to write down before I forget it...just a sec...
Okay, I'm back. Sorry about that. Funny thing, though, about that story idea I just wrote down. As I was writing it down, I saw how it relates to the scripture I just ask everybody to read. Perhaps God's way of showing me the answers to the questions I have about that verse. Yes, probably so. Anyways, I'm getting tired of leaning up so close to the computer screen so I can see what I'm typing. Back to work on my novel in the morning. Pray it goes well.
I didn't write any today, like I said before, because it's Sunday. Today was our company picnic. I didn't join the festivities, however I did nab a few hotdogs on my lunch break as they were wrapping things up. So that was good. I did get a few ideas for stories bouncing around my head that I had to jot down. In fact, there's one bouncing around my head right now that I just got as I was taking a shower a few minutes ago. I need to write down before I forget it...just a sec...
Okay, I'm back. Sorry about that. Funny thing, though, about that story idea I just wrote down. As I was writing it down, I saw how it relates to the scripture I just ask everybody to read. Perhaps God's way of showing me the answers to the questions I have about that verse. Yes, probably so. Anyways, I'm getting tired of leaning up so close to the computer screen so I can see what I'm typing. Back to work on my novel in the morning. Pray it goes well.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
I saw her smile, but it wasn't for me
That's a no go for launch, Houston. But that's cool. I made a promise to myself a long time ago that I would never compromise the truth I felt in my heart to requite my loneliness, yet I've broken that promise time and time again to my own destruction. No point in doing that again. This time, as I should have done those times before, I'll just close my eyes and let God do what He will. It's the only true way to live. And I still haven't fully recovered from the last mess that I made for myself. I apologize if this all sounds cryptic.
Sorry, no poems or song verse today. Too tired.
I wrote about two pages today. Not much, but I took another step. That's what's important. I'm pretty firm on the next couple of scenes, though I've learned that the writing always comes the hardest when I know what I want to write about. My brain is so uber creative that it pouts like a child when I have plans for it. It also gets cranky when it doesn't get enough sleep. Or too much sleep. Anything around 7.5 or 8.5 hours, and I'm cool. Anything below or above that and I can't focus. Too much sleep is worse than too little. I can sleep for 14 hours at a time if nobody bothers me. I'm worthless the rest of the day, however. My favorite part of sleep is the last hour or so when I go in and out of the dream stage and slight consciousness. This is when I really get to feel my body resting. I just love it. Maybe this is what heaven will feel like. This perfect rested feeling. And peace and serenity, of course.
Wow, I got another person to read one of my old stories and they said they liked it. And I think they really did. They didn't just say they liked it so my feelings wouldn't be hurt. They went on to say why they liked it and the particular parts they enjoyed. So that was cool. And today I got into much discussion about Christianity with a co-worker. He says he's a Christian, and I have no right to decide if he is or isn't. But he's got some strange ideas. And he couldn't offer any scripture to back it up because he says he doesn't believe he has to study his bible. You can be saved and go to heaven and enter into God's glory without reading your bible day and night, but it can sure help you get through the rough times we have on this Earth. We didn't get to finish our discussion because a co-manager (one step below the store manager), came barging in telling us how bad the juice was looking on the floor (the sales floor, that is). I only took five minutes of my last 15 minute break to make up for it, so it was all good. I didn't cheat the company or anything. Well, maybe a little. Jesus, forgive me, for I have sinned. In Your precious name, Amen.
The time has come that I should sleep and dream and be refreshed. No writing tomorrow. It's Sunday. I do have to go to work, however. How I wish people wouldn't shop on Sundays. Tomorrow, please don't ask me why I wasn't at Church while you stand there with a shopping cart full of knick-knacks and other nothings. Don't preach in your sermon tomorrow about the importance of being in church and then head out to some restaurant to eat after the amen's and God bless you's have been said and reciprocated. Please don't condemn yourself with your own words.
Sorry, no poems or song verse today. Too tired.
I wrote about two pages today. Not much, but I took another step. That's what's important. I'm pretty firm on the next couple of scenes, though I've learned that the writing always comes the hardest when I know what I want to write about. My brain is so uber creative that it pouts like a child when I have plans for it. It also gets cranky when it doesn't get enough sleep. Or too much sleep. Anything around 7.5 or 8.5 hours, and I'm cool. Anything below or above that and I can't focus. Too much sleep is worse than too little. I can sleep for 14 hours at a time if nobody bothers me. I'm worthless the rest of the day, however. My favorite part of sleep is the last hour or so when I go in and out of the dream stage and slight consciousness. This is when I really get to feel my body resting. I just love it. Maybe this is what heaven will feel like. This perfect rested feeling. And peace and serenity, of course.
Wow, I got another person to read one of my old stories and they said they liked it. And I think they really did. They didn't just say they liked it so my feelings wouldn't be hurt. They went on to say why they liked it and the particular parts they enjoyed. So that was cool. And today I got into much discussion about Christianity with a co-worker. He says he's a Christian, and I have no right to decide if he is or isn't. But he's got some strange ideas. And he couldn't offer any scripture to back it up because he says he doesn't believe he has to study his bible. You can be saved and go to heaven and enter into God's glory without reading your bible day and night, but it can sure help you get through the rough times we have on this Earth. We didn't get to finish our discussion because a co-manager (one step below the store manager), came barging in telling us how bad the juice was looking on the floor (the sales floor, that is). I only took five minutes of my last 15 minute break to make up for it, so it was all good. I didn't cheat the company or anything. Well, maybe a little. Jesus, forgive me, for I have sinned. In Your precious name, Amen.
The time has come that I should sleep and dream and be refreshed. No writing tomorrow. It's Sunday. I do have to go to work, however. How I wish people wouldn't shop on Sundays. Tomorrow, please don't ask me why I wasn't at Church while you stand there with a shopping cart full of knick-knacks and other nothings. Don't preach in your sermon tomorrow about the importance of being in church and then head out to some restaurant to eat after the amen's and God bless you's have been said and reciprocated. Please don't condemn yourself with your own words.
Friday, May 20, 2005
Cupid, Among Other Things
I've had these lasts two days off, and I didn't write a word on the novel I've been working on for several months now. Usually, I feel bad when I waste away my days like this, getting nothing done. But this time I don't. It's not like I haven't done anything. I mowed my parents gargantuan lawn, and I mowed and trimmed my brother's lawn. I mowed them on a riding lawnmower, so all I really had to do was steer. And I love to weed-eat (trim). Don't ask me why. I suppose the heat and humidity have taken their toll on me, however.
I read about five chapters in Acts today. I read the part where Gamaliel, Pharisee and expert in religious law, confronted the council about prior religious movements and how when their leaders died, the followers went their separate ways. He said if this current movement with Jesus wasn't from God, then Jesus's followers would soon lose their interest and go away. But if they didn't, then it was truly from God, and the council would be fighting against God Himself. I thought that was cool. I had wondered if other people who knew the scriptures had claimed to be the messiah prior to Jesus. And I know I've read through Acts at least two times, but I didn't catch it. Just another example of why we need to read and reread our bible over and over again. There are so many things we miss or simply don't understand the first or second or third time through that we may catch the fourth or fifth or sixth time through. I think a lot of it has to do with our maturity as we age and our maturity as we continue to grow in Christ.
I also read the part where Ananias and Sapphira both died for lying about how much they sold a field for. Peter clearly pointed out that it wasn't because they only gave half of the money they sold the field for. He said that they didn't have to sell the field and give the money to the church in the first place, if they didn't want to. But they lied and said they gave the full amount so people would think more highly of them among the church. You know, if God struck down every person that did something falsely to receive praise from their fellow church members, the memberships of the churches today would probably be cut in half.
And, of course, I read through Paul's conversion. You probably won't find a better example of how God can use even the most loathsome people to do his will. Paul refers to himself in some of his letters as the chief sinner. If you think you've sinned too much for Jesus to save you, you're wrong. There's only one unforgivable sin--blasphemy of the Holy Spirit. If your afraid that you might have accidentally committed this sin, don't worry. You haven't. It's a very deliberate sin, and you have to be fully aware of what you're doing to commit it. And if you've committed it, you don't care. You're glad you did it. And you fully understand that you have forever separated yourself from God and are damned to life in hell. You know this, and you still don't care. If you're worried about it, then you've already proven your innocence. So sleep easy tonight, dear child.
Well, it's back to the grind tomorrow. I've done messed myself up by deciding that I like a girl at work. I don't know why I like her. There's no rhyme or reason for it. There's plenty of girls there to be liked. But my heart decided, for now at least, that this is the one that will dominate my thoughts. I'll probably never say anything to her about the way I feel. I may pass a word or two with her as I had been doing before I decided that I liked her. Except this time I'll feel a tingle in my stomach and wonder if my words were as cool and suave as I want them to be. They usually aren't. I usually think of the perfect thing to say, but it doesn't come out right. These feelings will pass as they usually do. I'll find out that she's married (though I don't see a ring, but who wears their ring to a job that requires manual labor), or she's got kids (which I seem to think I caught the tail end of a conversation in which I got the impression that she might have kids. Nothing against kids or unmarried women who have them. Do not judge, lest ye be judged. But I had always had the feeling that if I ever had a family, I would start fresh.) Eventually I find these things out without saying a word to the girl in question or her immediate co-workers. I'm like this silent, patient investigator that never asks any questions. More like an undercover agent careful not to be exposed. It's a pathetic way I have about me, and I fully understand that it hinders me from having the things I may desire. But God made me this way for a reason. So I shall not question it. Ask and ye shall receive. If God wills it, then it shall be.
Maybe tomorrow I'll write a poem, or some song lyrics. Depends on how the day goes, I guess.
I read about five chapters in Acts today. I read the part where Gamaliel, Pharisee and expert in religious law, confronted the council about prior religious movements and how when their leaders died, the followers went their separate ways. He said if this current movement with Jesus wasn't from God, then Jesus's followers would soon lose their interest and go away. But if they didn't, then it was truly from God, and the council would be fighting against God Himself. I thought that was cool. I had wondered if other people who knew the scriptures had claimed to be the messiah prior to Jesus. And I know I've read through Acts at least two times, but I didn't catch it. Just another example of why we need to read and reread our bible over and over again. There are so many things we miss or simply don't understand the first or second or third time through that we may catch the fourth or fifth or sixth time through. I think a lot of it has to do with our maturity as we age and our maturity as we continue to grow in Christ.
I also read the part where Ananias and Sapphira both died for lying about how much they sold a field for. Peter clearly pointed out that it wasn't because they only gave half of the money they sold the field for. He said that they didn't have to sell the field and give the money to the church in the first place, if they didn't want to. But they lied and said they gave the full amount so people would think more highly of them among the church. You know, if God struck down every person that did something falsely to receive praise from their fellow church members, the memberships of the churches today would probably be cut in half.
And, of course, I read through Paul's conversion. You probably won't find a better example of how God can use even the most loathsome people to do his will. Paul refers to himself in some of his letters as the chief sinner. If you think you've sinned too much for Jesus to save you, you're wrong. There's only one unforgivable sin--blasphemy of the Holy Spirit. If your afraid that you might have accidentally committed this sin, don't worry. You haven't. It's a very deliberate sin, and you have to be fully aware of what you're doing to commit it. And if you've committed it, you don't care. You're glad you did it. And you fully understand that you have forever separated yourself from God and are damned to life in hell. You know this, and you still don't care. If you're worried about it, then you've already proven your innocence. So sleep easy tonight, dear child.
Well, it's back to the grind tomorrow. I've done messed myself up by deciding that I like a girl at work. I don't know why I like her. There's no rhyme or reason for it. There's plenty of girls there to be liked. But my heart decided, for now at least, that this is the one that will dominate my thoughts. I'll probably never say anything to her about the way I feel. I may pass a word or two with her as I had been doing before I decided that I liked her. Except this time I'll feel a tingle in my stomach and wonder if my words were as cool and suave as I want them to be. They usually aren't. I usually think of the perfect thing to say, but it doesn't come out right. These feelings will pass as they usually do. I'll find out that she's married (though I don't see a ring, but who wears their ring to a job that requires manual labor), or she's got kids (which I seem to think I caught the tail end of a conversation in which I got the impression that she might have kids. Nothing against kids or unmarried women who have them. Do not judge, lest ye be judged. But I had always had the feeling that if I ever had a family, I would start fresh.) Eventually I find these things out without saying a word to the girl in question or her immediate co-workers. I'm like this silent, patient investigator that never asks any questions. More like an undercover agent careful not to be exposed. It's a pathetic way I have about me, and I fully understand that it hinders me from having the things I may desire. But God made me this way for a reason. So I shall not question it. Ask and ye shall receive. If God wills it, then it shall be.
Maybe tomorrow I'll write a poem, or some song lyrics. Depends on how the day goes, I guess.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Gone With The Wind
Read the fine print, folks. I didn't realize I wasn't allowed to click on any of the ads that Google sent me through their Adsense program, so they disabled my account. So that means I won't get the fifty bucks or so I had coming to me. That's just as well. I was considering dropping the ads anyways because of some of the anti-Christian content. It had been weighing on my mind, so God lifted the burden.
I'm gonna try to start posting daily. I've probably said this before. But now I'm really gonna try. I'm just gonna post a bit of what's on my mind each night before I go to bed. A lot of it will probably be about writing, since that's what dominates my thoughts most of the time. Christian writing, to be more exact, since that's all I write these days. If I'm thinking of a story, I'm thinking of how I can include God's message into it. I'll post a lot about my thoughts on what I read in my bible each morning, if anything particular strikes me and inspires me, which happens a lot. I enjoy my bible reading time. I used to have a difficult time reading my bible. I used to read the King James Version and the New International Version and the New American Standard Version. In some of Paul's letters, I can't remember where...probably Romans or 1st Corinthians, I couldn't understand what Paul was getting at. I read through those three editions and studied those same verses and just couldn't quite grasp Paul's meaning. Then my oldest brother brought over the New Living Translation that his mother-in-law had bought by accident. It was so clear and understandable. It made things I had been troubled over for years make perfect sense. See, what they did was take all the manuscripts still in existence from the original Greek and Hebrew and Aramaic and commissioned a team of bible scholars and language scholars and translation specialists and what not and really came up with the most accurate meanings and translations that they could. I know the NIV did something similar, but it's still hard to follow sometimes. Anyways, I decided to get my own NLT, and when I finally found a bookstore that had it, I discovered that the NLT people had taken an extra eight years to do more research to be sure of the accuracy of their translation. If you have trouble with all these other translations, I would recommend picking up a copy of the NLT Study Bible. I like to keep all the different versions I can for reference, but I've found the NLT the easiest to read and understand and it has strengthened my walk with God tremendously. And The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren is a good read if you feel you've been lackadaisical in your Christian life. And I would particularly have you read the beatitudes that start in Matthew, Chapter 5, and run through Chapter 7, about a dozen times. Yes, read them over and over again until you absorb the full meaning of it all. Life can be difficult, but Jesus gives us no excuses for not following God's word because of what the world may do to us. For they hated the Master. How much more will they hate the servant.
Alright, so no more ads and many more posts. How's that for cake and ice cream.
I'm gonna try to start posting daily. I've probably said this before. But now I'm really gonna try. I'm just gonna post a bit of what's on my mind each night before I go to bed. A lot of it will probably be about writing, since that's what dominates my thoughts most of the time. Christian writing, to be more exact, since that's all I write these days. If I'm thinking of a story, I'm thinking of how I can include God's message into it. I'll post a lot about my thoughts on what I read in my bible each morning, if anything particular strikes me and inspires me, which happens a lot. I enjoy my bible reading time. I used to have a difficult time reading my bible. I used to read the King James Version and the New International Version and the New American Standard Version. In some of Paul's letters, I can't remember where...probably Romans or 1st Corinthians, I couldn't understand what Paul was getting at. I read through those three editions and studied those same verses and just couldn't quite grasp Paul's meaning. Then my oldest brother brought over the New Living Translation that his mother-in-law had bought by accident. It was so clear and understandable. It made things I had been troubled over for years make perfect sense. See, what they did was take all the manuscripts still in existence from the original Greek and Hebrew and Aramaic and commissioned a team of bible scholars and language scholars and translation specialists and what not and really came up with the most accurate meanings and translations that they could. I know the NIV did something similar, but it's still hard to follow sometimes. Anyways, I decided to get my own NLT, and when I finally found a bookstore that had it, I discovered that the NLT people had taken an extra eight years to do more research to be sure of the accuracy of their translation. If you have trouble with all these other translations, I would recommend picking up a copy of the NLT Study Bible. I like to keep all the different versions I can for reference, but I've found the NLT the easiest to read and understand and it has strengthened my walk with God tremendously. And The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren is a good read if you feel you've been lackadaisical in your Christian life. And I would particularly have you read the beatitudes that start in Matthew, Chapter 5, and run through Chapter 7, about a dozen times. Yes, read them over and over again until you absorb the full meaning of it all. Life can be difficult, but Jesus gives us no excuses for not following God's word because of what the world may do to us. For they hated the Master. How much more will they hate the servant.
Alright, so no more ads and many more posts. How's that for cake and ice cream.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
True Writers
True writers write because they have to. Not for money or fame or admiration. We write because the desire burns within us and there's no other way to quench it but to write. True Christians serve Christ because there is no other way to live. We don't do it for money or fame or admiration. We serve God because our spirit yearns to be closer to Him. God gave me this talent to serve His will. He gives everyone a special talent to work for the benefit of His body of believers. If you think that you don't have a talent and feel worthless, you are wrong. You may not be a writer or a musician or an artist. You may not be a teacher or a leader. You may not be able to do anything that you think is important or worthwhile. But one thing anybody can do, no matter their skill or intelligence, is be a witness for Christ. You don't have to be able to write or speak eloquently to woo others to Christ. Simply live your life for Christ and His light will shine through you. Read your bible. Hide His word in your heart. Be kind and forgiving to everybody, especially your enemies. The world will hate you for His sake, but don't let that be a reason to compromise and give into the temptations of this world. We're here on this Earth for a short while. But eternity is forever. Your human brain can't comprehend eternity. If it could, this life would be little more than a passing thought. I must go now. I must write. I must use my writing as a testimony for Christ. I used to write for this world. I used to seek fame and fortune and admiration. But God didn't bless it. He was patient with me. He knew me before the creation of the world. He knew I would come around. He knew I would come back to Him. He was patient with me, so now I must be patient with Him. God exists outside the bounds of time. He created time. Generations pass by on this Earth when He blinks. I don't think God has eyes like we have eyes. We were made in His image. But I think that means His spiritual image. For a long time, I didn't understand that. Anyways...more tomorrow perhaps.
Monday, May 09, 2005
As the Words Left My Fingertips
The antichristian ads already returned, just as I wrote that last post. I think maybe they're mocking me. Anyways...sleep tight and pray for God's guidance and protection from this evil world.
Ask And Ye Shall Receive
I didn't ask anybody at Google, but I asked God. The antichristian ads have disappeared. They have been replaced with ads about writing. Maybe somebody at Google read my last post. I don't know. And I can't say for sure if they will stay gone, but I can keep praying. Anyways. I had an awesome morning writing and wrote a really funny scene. At least I think it's funny. It made me laugh. I must sleep now.
Friday, May 06, 2005
That's What I Said
I didn't know how to start this or precisely what I would talk about, but after a month and a half's worth of belation, I decided to just start writing my thoughts on dialogue, whether they were wrong or right, and start things off with this disclaimer: I don't really know what I'm talking about. I have no authority or background to tell you how you should go about writing dialogue. But I have opinions and my own way of doing it, so that's what I am going to express here and now. You still retain the right to agree or disagree, as with all things in life. That's all part of the free will God gave each of us. So here we go…
In the last exercise on description, I prattled on and on and then presented the one assignment that was turned in to me and sort of went through it in detail. This time, I've decided to present the one assignment that was turned into me right here at the beginning and go from there. I thought one more person was going to turn in an assignment, which may or may not have attributed to the further delay of this post. This was a person in one my online critique groups that has particular trouble with dialogue, and I thought maybe I could help her out. However, she seems to have forgotten all about it, so I shall go on with just the one assignment that Carol, my one faithful blogger, turned in a long time ago. Again, as always, my apologies for the delay. I asked in the assignment for you to write a short exchange of dialogue between Charlie and his wife, Amy. So here's what Carol so kindly wrote:
Amy walked slowly to the kitchen sink where Charlie stood slumped over the few remaining dishes. “I made the grocery list for tomorrow.” She noticed Charlie slump further over the last remaining plate. “Remember Charlie that you promised to try out this new store. It is only a couple of blocks away,” she said as she picked up the dish towel and started to dry the dishes.
“What’s the matter, Charlie?”
He shrugged and walked away. Amy followed him to the bedroom where he was placing his guitar strap over his head.
“I can’t leave this place,” he sang to an old tune.
“Charlie, you have to someday. Now is the time. You said so this morning,” Amy felt exasperated but wanted to sing along.
He continued to strum as he looked pleadingly into the concern of her eyes. “The pounding of my heart won’t dissipate. I will surely start to puke if I leave this place!”
They burst into laughter.
Charlie hugged his wife with a promise, “I will do it, Amy.” Then they sang the chorus one more time.
The first thing I notice in this exchange is the continuing action following a piece of dialogue. One common mistake that many writers make when two characters are in a very involved conversation is that the world doesn't stop. Things are still going around them. The characters are still doing other things as they talk. Even if they are sitting across from each other, staring into each other's eyes, there are still little things going on. They sink a little further into their seat. They take a deep breath. Their eyes widen in shock. Lots of little things like, 'she said as she picked up the dish towel and started to dry the dishes.' Charlie and Amy are doing the dishes together. Just because they are talking to each other, it doesn't mean that they've stopped working on the dishes. This may sound like a stupid and minor thing to point out, but I've read novels and stories where the action was intense and two characters began talking to each other. After thirty exchanges, I'm wondering what happened to all the action. Weren't they creeping through a haunted forest, trying not to disturb the restless ghosts? Why did he choose this time to explain to the new guy how the forest became haunted? Shouldn't he have done that before they entered the forest? Don't abandon the pace of the story just because people begin to talk. At the end of each dialogue tag, you can insert the little things that are going on, however minor. It helps the dialogue feel more natural. More like you're watching a movie, or better yet, eavesdropping on your neighbors.
So that brings me to dialogue tags and attributions. I never put much thought into it before until I joined a critique group and one of members used colorful and sometimes hilarious dialogue attributions. I believe in 'he said, she said' with little else. He asked. He replied. He answered. He cried. He muttered. Those are all okay, as well. He laughed. He snorted. He chuckled. He murmured. He questioned. He sobbed. We're still okay, but edging towards shaky ground. He intoned. He smiled. He corrected. He offered. He proposed. He breathed. Now I'm beginning to stumble. He inundated. He remunerated. He inflected. He gurgled. He menaced. He delighted. Okay, I've fallen and I can't get up. There are worse ones, but I can't think of them at the moment. These really bad one's are usually followed by even more horrible adverbs or adverb phrases. Eventually I'll get to a post on adverbs. But for now, I'll simply tell you to stay away from them as much as you can. They're hard to get around completely. It's like walking through a field full of dandelions and trying not to kick any of the puffy seed heads. You may get through it okay, but you'll always kick a few and scatter their seeds to the wind. Anyways. Your dialogue will flow more smoothly if you stick to 'he said, she said' or 'Charlie said, Amy said'. The reason your dialogue will flow more smoothly is because readers don't notice the word 'said' as much as the others. If they're asking a question and you've used a question mark, do you really need to use 'he asked'? It's perfectly fine. I use it myself some of the time. Just something to think about. If your character is responding to a question, do you really need to use 'he replied'? The real key is to use as few tags as possible. If only two people are talking and it's quite clear which person is speaking on each exchange, then you can get rid of most of the attributions. In Ernest Hemmingway's Hills Like White Elephants, there are pages of dialogue with no attributions or tags. This is a little extreme and can become difficult to follow, but the more you can get rid of them, the quicker and more pleasurable it is to read.
Now I want to talk briefly about vernacular. We've all read at least one story where a character was from some other part of the country or some foreign land and brought with them a distinct accent. Someone from the deep south or the extreme north, as if the middle part of the country has no accent. Then you've got Canada with its French influence and Mexico with its Spanish. America is made up of people from all over the world and our language, while mostly English, is interlaced with all of these other influences. Even the Queen's English, as I've heard it called in England, has a lot of words derived from the French. But anyways, you have this character with a Southern drawl, and you want to show this Southern drawl in his dialogue, so you start throwing in all these apostrophe's and clipped words and stupid Forrest Gumpesque sayings, as if you really know anything about the South in the first place. What you get is stupid dialogue and an entire region of the country that will never read your work again. I'm from Oklahoma, and I write about characters from Oklahoma. I'm very aware of the Okie accent. But I don't go shredding the language apart to try and show this to my readers. Some of it may slip because of grammatical incorrectness, but by and large, people don't want to try and fight through a characters written accent to hear what they said. If they know your character is from the deep South, then they probably already have an idea how Southern people sound and will give them an accent with their imagination rather than you having to do it. I guess a little bit at the character's introduction is okay, just to let the reader know, but after that it becomes a chore. I'm reminded of Harold Bell Wright's Shepherd of the Hills. I couldn't get past the first page for all the vernacular.
There's much more to say, and I'll try to amend this post later perhaps, but everybody’s here and wanting to play some cards, so I bid you adieu.
In the last exercise on description, I prattled on and on and then presented the one assignment that was turned in to me and sort of went through it in detail. This time, I've decided to present the one assignment that was turned into me right here at the beginning and go from there. I thought one more person was going to turn in an assignment, which may or may not have attributed to the further delay of this post. This was a person in one my online critique groups that has particular trouble with dialogue, and I thought maybe I could help her out. However, she seems to have forgotten all about it, so I shall go on with just the one assignment that Carol, my one faithful blogger, turned in a long time ago. Again, as always, my apologies for the delay. I asked in the assignment for you to write a short exchange of dialogue between Charlie and his wife, Amy. So here's what Carol so kindly wrote:
Amy walked slowly to the kitchen sink where Charlie stood slumped over the few remaining dishes. “I made the grocery list for tomorrow.” She noticed Charlie slump further over the last remaining plate. “Remember Charlie that you promised to try out this new store. It is only a couple of blocks away,” she said as she picked up the dish towel and started to dry the dishes.
“What’s the matter, Charlie?”
He shrugged and walked away. Amy followed him to the bedroom where he was placing his guitar strap over his head.
“I can’t leave this place,” he sang to an old tune.
“Charlie, you have to someday. Now is the time. You said so this morning,” Amy felt exasperated but wanted to sing along.
He continued to strum as he looked pleadingly into the concern of her eyes. “The pounding of my heart won’t dissipate. I will surely start to puke if I leave this place!”
They burst into laughter.
Charlie hugged his wife with a promise, “I will do it, Amy.” Then they sang the chorus one more time.
The first thing I notice in this exchange is the continuing action following a piece of dialogue. One common mistake that many writers make when two characters are in a very involved conversation is that the world doesn't stop. Things are still going around them. The characters are still doing other things as they talk. Even if they are sitting across from each other, staring into each other's eyes, there are still little things going on. They sink a little further into their seat. They take a deep breath. Their eyes widen in shock. Lots of little things like, 'she said as she picked up the dish towel and started to dry the dishes.' Charlie and Amy are doing the dishes together. Just because they are talking to each other, it doesn't mean that they've stopped working on the dishes. This may sound like a stupid and minor thing to point out, but I've read novels and stories where the action was intense and two characters began talking to each other. After thirty exchanges, I'm wondering what happened to all the action. Weren't they creeping through a haunted forest, trying not to disturb the restless ghosts? Why did he choose this time to explain to the new guy how the forest became haunted? Shouldn't he have done that before they entered the forest? Don't abandon the pace of the story just because people begin to talk. At the end of each dialogue tag, you can insert the little things that are going on, however minor. It helps the dialogue feel more natural. More like you're watching a movie, or better yet, eavesdropping on your neighbors.
So that brings me to dialogue tags and attributions. I never put much thought into it before until I joined a critique group and one of members used colorful and sometimes hilarious dialogue attributions. I believe in 'he said, she said' with little else. He asked. He replied. He answered. He cried. He muttered. Those are all okay, as well. He laughed. He snorted. He chuckled. He murmured. He questioned. He sobbed. We're still okay, but edging towards shaky ground. He intoned. He smiled. He corrected. He offered. He proposed. He breathed. Now I'm beginning to stumble. He inundated. He remunerated. He inflected. He gurgled. He menaced. He delighted. Okay, I've fallen and I can't get up. There are worse ones, but I can't think of them at the moment. These really bad one's are usually followed by even more horrible adverbs or adverb phrases. Eventually I'll get to a post on adverbs. But for now, I'll simply tell you to stay away from them as much as you can. They're hard to get around completely. It's like walking through a field full of dandelions and trying not to kick any of the puffy seed heads. You may get through it okay, but you'll always kick a few and scatter their seeds to the wind. Anyways. Your dialogue will flow more smoothly if you stick to 'he said, she said' or 'Charlie said, Amy said'. The reason your dialogue will flow more smoothly is because readers don't notice the word 'said' as much as the others. If they're asking a question and you've used a question mark, do you really need to use 'he asked'? It's perfectly fine. I use it myself some of the time. Just something to think about. If your character is responding to a question, do you really need to use 'he replied'? The real key is to use as few tags as possible. If only two people are talking and it's quite clear which person is speaking on each exchange, then you can get rid of most of the attributions. In Ernest Hemmingway's Hills Like White Elephants, there are pages of dialogue with no attributions or tags. This is a little extreme and can become difficult to follow, but the more you can get rid of them, the quicker and more pleasurable it is to read.
Now I want to talk briefly about vernacular. We've all read at least one story where a character was from some other part of the country or some foreign land and brought with them a distinct accent. Someone from the deep south or the extreme north, as if the middle part of the country has no accent. Then you've got Canada with its French influence and Mexico with its Spanish. America is made up of people from all over the world and our language, while mostly English, is interlaced with all of these other influences. Even the Queen's English, as I've heard it called in England, has a lot of words derived from the French. But anyways, you have this character with a Southern drawl, and you want to show this Southern drawl in his dialogue, so you start throwing in all these apostrophe's and clipped words and stupid Forrest Gumpesque sayings, as if you really know anything about the South in the first place. What you get is stupid dialogue and an entire region of the country that will never read your work again. I'm from Oklahoma, and I write about characters from Oklahoma. I'm very aware of the Okie accent. But I don't go shredding the language apart to try and show this to my readers. Some of it may slip because of grammatical incorrectness, but by and large, people don't want to try and fight through a characters written accent to hear what they said. If they know your character is from the deep South, then they probably already have an idea how Southern people sound and will give them an accent with their imagination rather than you having to do it. I guess a little bit at the character's introduction is okay, just to let the reader know, but after that it becomes a chore. I'm reminded of Harold Bell Wright's Shepherd of the Hills. I couldn't get past the first page for all the vernacular.
There's much more to say, and I'll try to amend this post later perhaps, but everybody’s here and wanting to play some cards, so I bid you adieu.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Humble Apologies
First of all, I would like to apologize for everything. Yes, everything. Everything under the sun that could possibly be concieved as any wrong doing I may or may not have done, intentionally or unintentionally, for good or evil. I won't apologize for my existence, however, since I didn't choose to be here, nor for my continuing existence, since God or anyone else could strike me down if they chose to do so. I apologize for this darkness when I am capable of more light.
But really...I apologize for not posting more. There's no excuse for it other than laziness. And yes, I will post something about dialogue. I will do it tomorrow, even if it means I accomplish nothing else. Carol, for now, your dialogue exchange was good. You have real talent. If you decided to write seriously, I believe you could have success. It takes practice and persistence, like all good things, but you have the fundamentals to be great.
My private writing life is going well. It could be better. My laziness, for one, hinders me. But I had a really great last couple of days at my other computer...my writing computer...and my novel is coming together better than I had hoped. If I ever get it published, I'll send you a personalized signed copy. I won't make you buy one. I don't seek riches in this world. It's a hard concept for non-Christians to take to heart, but if I believed that there was nothing else after this life, I garauntee you I would have already written a runaway bestseller and been rolling around in my millions. Scoff. Go ahead. I don't care. But I know it's true. I apologize for not being more humble.
I apologize for some of the ads Google has been sending me. I don't choose which ads they display. They finally started giving me ads more targeted to the content of my blog, but I'm getting the Christian with the anti-Christian. What I would like are ads targed towards writing. If I could get strictly Christian writing ads, I'd be happy. It would be horrible if a person in limbo, considering receiving Christ should click on one of those anti-Christian ads and be led away from the truth. If I can't get it corrected soon, I'll drop the ads altogether. I'm not making anything off of them anyways. Google tells me I've garnered almost $38 so far, and they won't pay me until I've reached $100. So I'm on pace to make about $200 a year. Talk about riches on Earth. But even if I made 27 trillion dollars a day with these ads, it's not worth a lost soul.
I apologize for not blogging more. Thanks for the advice, Carol. It makes perfect sense. If I want people to read and comment on my blog, I should go and read and comment on theirs. I have no idea how you found my blog in the first place. I really don't know how to find particular blogs anyways. I typed in the exact name of my cousin's blog in a google search and that blog search thing at the top of each blog and couldn’t find it. It’s all a big crap shoot, I guess. So really the only way to do it is to bring them in yourself, and maybe they’ll tell their friends, and so on and so forth. Then updating the blog daily, if you can, keeps them there. Duh, of course. I have seen the light. And all it really took was opening my eyes. Thanks again, Carol.
Midnight’s calling, I must sleep now.
But really...I apologize for not posting more. There's no excuse for it other than laziness. And yes, I will post something about dialogue. I will do it tomorrow, even if it means I accomplish nothing else. Carol, for now, your dialogue exchange was good. You have real talent. If you decided to write seriously, I believe you could have success. It takes practice and persistence, like all good things, but you have the fundamentals to be great.
My private writing life is going well. It could be better. My laziness, for one, hinders me. But I had a really great last couple of days at my other computer...my writing computer...and my novel is coming together better than I had hoped. If I ever get it published, I'll send you a personalized signed copy. I won't make you buy one. I don't seek riches in this world. It's a hard concept for non-Christians to take to heart, but if I believed that there was nothing else after this life, I garauntee you I would have already written a runaway bestseller and been rolling around in my millions. Scoff. Go ahead. I don't care. But I know it's true. I apologize for not being more humble.
I apologize for some of the ads Google has been sending me. I don't choose which ads they display. They finally started giving me ads more targeted to the content of my blog, but I'm getting the Christian with the anti-Christian. What I would like are ads targed towards writing. If I could get strictly Christian writing ads, I'd be happy. It would be horrible if a person in limbo, considering receiving Christ should click on one of those anti-Christian ads and be led away from the truth. If I can't get it corrected soon, I'll drop the ads altogether. I'm not making anything off of them anyways. Google tells me I've garnered almost $38 so far, and they won't pay me until I've reached $100. So I'm on pace to make about $200 a year. Talk about riches on Earth. But even if I made 27 trillion dollars a day with these ads, it's not worth a lost soul.
I apologize for not blogging more. Thanks for the advice, Carol. It makes perfect sense. If I want people to read and comment on my blog, I should go and read and comment on theirs. I have no idea how you found my blog in the first place. I really don't know how to find particular blogs anyways. I typed in the exact name of my cousin's blog in a google search and that blog search thing at the top of each blog and couldn’t find it. It’s all a big crap shoot, I guess. So really the only way to do it is to bring them in yourself, and maybe they’ll tell their friends, and so on and so forth. Then updating the blog daily, if you can, keeps them there. Duh, of course. I have seen the light. And all it really took was opening my eyes. Thanks again, Carol.
Midnight’s calling, I must sleep now.
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