journalish
"Her Morning Elegance" plays on repeat on my other computer. That's right: I'm using two laptops right now. My old own as well as the one that is technically mine, for now, but that I keep telling myself and others is really a terranova laptop that I am using. They bought it for me to use, and if I ever leave terranova, stop working there are all, then, if it the laptop is still in good use, it will go back fully to them and to whoever is the next ministry assistant, most likely. I am using both of them because the new one still doesn't have all the programs I need for uploading audio to the church website and other things, but is notably faster with what it does have.
The song is comforting and has a light-hearted melody even while having deeper, more painful meaning in the lyrics. "And she fights for her life as she puts on her coat and she fights for her life on the train. She watches the rain as it pours. And she fights for her life as she goes in the store with a thought she has caught by a thread. She pays for her bread and she goes. Nobody knows." Nobody knows ...
I once wrote a poem entitled What Nobody Knows. "Nobody knows of the dreams I have, in the lays of my own mind. Nobody sees all the beautiful things, that I see and I do and I find."
Unless I write them out. Or speak them. Or draw them. I was thinking just the other day how there are certain people who never let go of their childhood imaginings. Actors; playing characters they may have thought of as children. Artists: capturing worlds and bits of wonder that has facinated them forever. Writers: creating whole worlds that spring from their pages. These people did these things as children and never stopped.
I do hope though, that also people like accountants and salesmen, not the glamorous jobs but ones that some people simply have an aptitude for, can reap the same joy as a painter fininshing something beautiful, if they are doing what they are meant to do. If their work is what fits them best then I hope it brings happiness to them and those they love.
To begin today I should start with last night. I was laying in bed reading an amazing book: "My Sister's Keeper". It is vividly compelling, and I simply want to sit and both savor and devour it. I have always done more savoring than devourering with books. I got to the part with Taylor, who has luekemia as does the main character's sister. I knew what was probably going to happen. I knew that this was a book that wasn't afraid to deal death straight out, yet not in a harsh way, simply in a way of truth and being without any disguise. I knew what was probably coming, and yet when it did come, more suddenly than I anticipated, I burst out sobbing. I've never done that while reading before. I literally put my hands over my face and cried in anguish, grieving for a character in a book who had just lost her first and would be only love. The reaction surprised me greatly. But, I think that I can say that I have always been very empathetic. I have been surprised before by how deeply I can feel pain or joy belonging to others. When Erin called to tell me that she and Andrew were engaged, I was flying high with joy for them. I was so excited I couldn't sit still. The happiness was bursting out of me. When I watched the video of Peter proposing to Sarah, my sweet friend Sarah who has waited so long and so longingly to be loved, I cried, hard, with joy for her, even on the third and fourth time I watched it in the coming days. I always cry when I watch Lifehouse's "Everything" skit. It's as though I am that girl, taking that drink, cutting her arm, wanting so desperately to be someone else, look like someone else, feel something, and finally, throwing it all aside and reaching, yearning, for her Savior, who finally takes the burdens away.
I still haven't gotten to today. Maybe later, on another journal-entry post. For now, goodnight. I go to finish some work, go home, read my book, and sleep. Tomorrow is Saturday and I can sleep in and do more reading in bed, the way a good day begins, and probably see a movie with my siblings. Good night.
The song is comforting and has a light-hearted melody even while having deeper, more painful meaning in the lyrics. "And she fights for her life as she puts on her coat and she fights for her life on the train. She watches the rain as it pours. And she fights for her life as she goes in the store with a thought she has caught by a thread. She pays for her bread and she goes. Nobody knows." Nobody knows ...
I once wrote a poem entitled What Nobody Knows. "Nobody knows of the dreams I have, in the lays of my own mind. Nobody sees all the beautiful things, that I see and I do and I find."
Unless I write them out. Or speak them. Or draw them. I was thinking just the other day how there are certain people who never let go of their childhood imaginings. Actors; playing characters they may have thought of as children. Artists: capturing worlds and bits of wonder that has facinated them forever. Writers: creating whole worlds that spring from their pages. These people did these things as children and never stopped.
I do hope though, that also people like accountants and salesmen, not the glamorous jobs but ones that some people simply have an aptitude for, can reap the same joy as a painter fininshing something beautiful, if they are doing what they are meant to do. If their work is what fits them best then I hope it brings happiness to them and those they love.
To begin today I should start with last night. I was laying in bed reading an amazing book: "My Sister's Keeper". It is vividly compelling, and I simply want to sit and both savor and devour it. I have always done more savoring than devourering with books. I got to the part with Taylor, who has luekemia as does the main character's sister. I knew what was probably going to happen. I knew that this was a book that wasn't afraid to deal death straight out, yet not in a harsh way, simply in a way of truth and being without any disguise. I knew what was probably coming, and yet when it did come, more suddenly than I anticipated, I burst out sobbing. I've never done that while reading before. I literally put my hands over my face and cried in anguish, grieving for a character in a book who had just lost her first and would be only love. The reaction surprised me greatly. But, I think that I can say that I have always been very empathetic. I have been surprised before by how deeply I can feel pain or joy belonging to others. When Erin called to tell me that she and Andrew were engaged, I was flying high with joy for them. I was so excited I couldn't sit still. The happiness was bursting out of me. When I watched the video of Peter proposing to Sarah, my sweet friend Sarah who has waited so long and so longingly to be loved, I cried, hard, with joy for her, even on the third and fourth time I watched it in the coming days. I always cry when I watch Lifehouse's "Everything" skit. It's as though I am that girl, taking that drink, cutting her arm, wanting so desperately to be someone else, look like someone else, feel something, and finally, throwing it all aside and reaching, yearning, for her Savior, who finally takes the burdens away.
I still haven't gotten to today. Maybe later, on another journal-entry post. For now, goodnight. I go to finish some work, go home, read my book, and sleep. Tomorrow is Saturday and I can sleep in and do more reading in bed, the way a good day begins, and probably see a movie with my siblings. Good night.
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