The Medicine I Need the Most

This week has been unemotional. I don't really mean that in a good way.

I read my Bible every day, and pay attention to the words, think about what they mean. I make connections and begin to see those famous verses in their original contexts. I've learned a lot. I pray every day, and I love the time I spend in prayer - how I can talk to my Lord about anything, and know that he listens.

But this past week I've been just so blah. I read it and I get it and I even remember it afterward, but my heart doesn't stir; I don't feel that fire burning in my chest when I just need to celebrate God, to share Him, to surround myself in His Words and His presence. It's tempting to blame it on my medication - I'm on anti-depressants, some people just don't feel anything, on and on. But I don't think it's that, because I can get passionate and angry and sad and excited on the meds. And there's nothing wrong with God; he's the great mechanic - he isn't broken.

So, my conclusion is, there's something wrong with me. And I see it in my life; I make all these promises to the Lord - prayer throughout the day, the attitude I will have toward things, the way I will spend more time usefully to glorify Him. Yet I continue to put junk into my mind, to choose to daydream instead of pray, to waste time on Facebook instead of having a conversation with a friend who doesn't know Him.

And I make - and break - these promises to God every day! And every day He shows me something new, teaches me something new; yet my attitude keeps pushing Him away.

I don't need a change of heart; I need a transplant. Take out the old, me-motivated monster, and replace it with a spirit-filled heart.

A few weeks ago, I asked God to humble me, to show me that I cannot do it on my own. He has. I keep trying to do it on my own, and I can't. My own determination is nothing more than that. I don't know if the lesson has sunk in further than my brain yet, but I keep pressing on; I so dearly want to be someone worthy of the title "Christian." And the conundrum is this; I can't do it on my own, but I have to choose to let the great God-surgeon in to do His work.

We're working on it.

About Nothing At All

Here I am, blogging with nothing to write.

Life has been good lately. Each day went by and I felt like, wow, I'm okay with that. Maybe I'm just learning not to beat myself up over things I've already been forgiven for, and instead look forward to doing better the next day. Maybe I am, in fact, doing better each day.

Yesterday was one of those days where I realize that the good life doesn't last. That, for every good day, I'm going to have to wade through a few sucky days. Today, however, has not been - so far - a sucky day.

This past week I picked up the clarinet again. Just because I wanted to; and I'm enjoying it. Not like I've done a lot of playing, and not like I'm very good - but I forgot how much I loved to play. It always seemed odd to love music without being truly passionate about it, when I know my talents lie in other areas. Yet I'm looking forward to being able to play more and better things.

In other news, I got my new passport picture taken today. I look like a surprised person sucking on lemon, simultaneously. I think there's a rule about official photographs - school ID, driver's license, passport; they all must look like crap, or you're not doing it right.

Off to play Mario Kart with Squeaker. See ya folks.

Nightmares and Cliches

I finally finished the Fafsa. That application is a monkey's bare bottom. Not like I'll get any money from it, but I like to cross my t's and dot my i's.

So, I'm reading Stephen King's "The Green Mile" which is brilliant and creepy and I woke up in the middle of the night from a wierd nightmare that I sussed was based on my reading the book... I've spent the entire day trying to remember the nightmare, because while it was scary at the time, I recall waking up and being impressed with my subconcious for coming up with it.

For the last 5 weeks of my writing course, there seems to be a pattern emerging. I can do the characterization and the plot and the point of view - but I always use ten words where two would suffice. So, I'm working on sharpening my prose - and eliminating cliche's, though this is a toughie because certain characterizations necessitate cliches in the narrative, and it's a matter of knowing when.

I suppose you could take the previous paragraph as a "case in point." I couldn't come up with a good non-cliche for that.

"The Remains of the Day"

I just finished reading a beautiful little book called "The Remains of the Day," by Kazuo Ishiguro. It is essentially the tale of a butler, who becomes so enveloped in his profession that it affects his views on his personal life - the death of his father, the possibility of love. It's written so consistently in this butler's voice - it feels very natural.

The best (and most beautiful) part about it, though, what how subtle the author was. If you weren't much of a reader and picked up the book it would bore you to tears, because you would be far less likely to pick up on the way the little actions and implications that Mr. Stevens cannot notice - and that drive the story.

And it's so relevant! How many workaholics exist in the world today! Driven by money or passion, it doesn't matter; their work consumes them. And though I picked up on the hints and the foreshadowing in the book, am I blind to these things in my own life? How much do I not see?

It took me ages to read, but it was well worth the time because it needed to sink in. Another book for the ever-growing "reread" pile - I know I'll find more in that one than I did the first time through. It is certainly a new favorite of mine.