Eek! I AM a gadabout!!!

Oh well. Might as well accept myself...hehe I love being me

Time spent...or wasted?

Am I spending or wasting my time when I stay up to make a silly present for a friend's birthday, or for Jubilation Week? Am I spending or wasting my time when I think about cool movie ideas (which could also be used for SemTV...sometimes...)? Am I spending my time when I worry about how my books should be in alphabetical and topical order, and actually use time to do that? (gosh...topical AND alphabetical? I can't believe I've actually done that.)? Anyway, I spent a couple hours today making paper boxes. They are sturdy, small, and oh so cute. Unfortunately, there are only about 7 boxes to show from my hours of work. Was that wasting time? Am I wasting time by asking myself these questions? And actually writing them down? Oh well. It's already used. ha. Happy Jubilation Week!

Happy Jubilation Week!

I must admit...this is the saddest, lamest, most boring and pathetic Jubilation Week ever. EVER. Out of the three years...this third one was not the charm. So, to any avid fans of Jubilation Week (although I'm pretty sure that's just me) I'm sorry. I am going to spend much of tonight and tomorrow preparing for a fresh start on Monday. Hopefully I can make up for the bad start, and it just may meet expectations! So may you all be happy, healthy, and full of hope!

Uniquely Orange

Tomorrow is my audition. Today I rested, trying to let myself free from anxiety. Life-changing events are bad enough when they are unexpected. When they are partially controlled by those whose life they are changing, things get tricky. I watched Akeelah and the Bee last night. It's a good movie. There was a quote in it that I have been thinking about.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant,
gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking
so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously
give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,
our presence automatically liberates others.
- Marianne Williamson

This perhaps embodies my ideal philosophy. It is not yet a part of me, but as I think, it is more ingrained upon my consciousness. Who am I to squander gifts out of idleness? Who am I to hide even part of my passion for music? Am I scared that if it becomes so much of my life, I will lose those who do not feel the same? I will lose other important parts of me? If I work at it, and let myself, I can be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous. Not more so than any other of God's children, but in a way that is soley mine. In a way that is radiantly, beautifully, uniquely orange.

Post number 200

200 posts. As the frost once again blows its icy breath upon my car (sealing my fate of being late again tomorrow morning) I once again delve into the introspection of a magnificent landmark. 200 posts. Have I grown since the first? Undoubtedly. Have I learned? Have I developped? Pretty sure. Have I gotten myself into trouble? Countless times. Have I gotten myself out? Once in a while. I am reminded of a poem which has touched me several times, and its words have entered into my soul, to be used freely at the times when I am made aware of my own wretchedness. The poem is that of Edward Rowland Sill, The Fool's Prayer:

The royal feast was done; the King
Sought some new sport to banish care,
And to his jester cried: "Sir Fool,
Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!"

The jester doffed his cap and bells,
And stood the mocking court before;
They could not see the bitter smile
Behind the painted grin he wore.

He bowed his head, and bent his knee
Upon the Monarch's silken stool;
His pleading voice arose: "O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

"No pity, Lord, could change the heart
From red with wrong to white as wool;
The rod must heal the sin: but Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

"'Tis not by guilt the onward sweep
Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;
'Tis by our follies that so long
We hold the earth from heaven away.

"These clumsy feet, still in the mire,
Go crushing blossoms without end;
These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust
Among the heart-strings of a friend.

"The ill-timed truth we might have kept--
Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung?
The word we had not sense to say--
Who knows how grandly it had rung!

"Our faults no tenderness should ask.
The chastening stripes must cleanse them all;
But for our blunders -- oh, in shame
Before the eyes of heaven we fall.

"Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;
Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool
That did his will; but Thou, O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!"

The room was hushed; in silence rose
The King, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,
"Be merciful to me, a fool!"


O Lord, be merciful unto me, a fool.

As the Spring wakes the Winter

The day has fallen, and the night sits in its usual place. Oh, how still the air. Oh, how content is the moon. The snow shines and smiles to its celestial cousins, the stars. To be the wind, who walks througout, silent. To be the sun, who wakes the stillness, and warms the cold. To be the road, who eases the way, and does not complain of its sacrifice. To be the Spring who has her Summer to make her brighter, stronger. Living one for the other. As the Summer wakes the Spring, the Spring wakes the winter. Does the Spring love the Winter? no. He waits for her, unwaivering, true, quiet. Then she returns, full of glory, waking him from his cold tranquility. He shines and welcomes the Spring. He lets go of his beautiful, snowy coat to please her. He puts on as much warmth as he has within him to show his devotion. But Spring does not know. She belongs still to the Summer. She sees and thinks only of him. Is it any wonder that in his supreme loneliness he howls? Any true marvel that he bites and snaps? As the Spring wakes the Winter, and captivates him, so does she destroy him. He does not see his own beauty, because she lives ever to melt. She lives ever to look to the Summer, and not to the past. Autumn is jealous, and lives for no one. She does her best to destroy the Summer, wanting him to love no one but her. Still she is powerless to destroy his vibrancy. Still she has ever been powerless to win his love. And still, the winter is alone.

Over 1000!

Over one thousand views of my profile...woot. That's exciting. Nope, I have to stop this now, because if I write anymore, it will be angry and I will regret it. I already regret it, but it's hard to stop feeling a certain way if the cause is ever before you.

Do I rebel, or submit?

Ready? AHH!!!!! I just screamed out of frustration. Because I have no control. No control. No. None. Sometimes I feel like I hate...but I know I'm just scared. I know I just don't want to lose people. Friends mostly. I'm so scared. So sometimes I try to stop feeling anything toward the people I think are going to leave me. It doesn't work. I just end up missing them more. Then, when I give in, and I think "yes! I do want to be your friend! I do want to be involved in the things your are involved in, and I want to talk to you!" Then I remember...you don't talk to me anymore. That's what made me scared in the first place. But that's also what frustrates me. Because I have no control. I can only love and hope I am loved in return. Too bad there's no law of...ah! I can't even spell the word. Well, too bad! I'm just going to have to accept it. I can't be scared anymore...just either rediculously optimistic, or just realistic and...totally accepting of all things as they come. I don't know! “It is difficult for a woman to define her feelings in a language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” - Thomas Hardy. And according to psychology, one thinks in words, and therefore the human mind finds it difficult to think about anything it does not have a word for. Maybe THAT is why I have such a hard time understanding myself! I don't want to be a slave to affection! I don't want to go chasing after things that aren't going to last! Is it worth the temporary pleasure? What pleasure? NO! I can't take any more of your polite waves and smiles! You are going to let me know if my affection is wanted, and then (and ONLY then) will it be freely given. I can't simply hand you my smiles anymore! You don't even want them, I'll reckon. At least...you don't value them at the price it takes me to give them. It takes courage to try again. The rewards aren't good enough at this point. Maybe later it will be easier for both of us. Or maybe neither of us will even care anymore.

Survivors found

It's amazing how one phrase from a whole article can pop out at you. I call them Stickynotes. After an Indonesian jet crash kills 90 people, there are still survivors found. Survivors. Those who survived. Is that a passive verb? sometimes. Not for me.

Family Thrown into Tragic Crisis After Loss of Loved Ones, Survivors found.

Hundreds of Employees Lose Jobs after Decline in Economy, Survivors found.

Pandemic of Eating Disorders Hit America, Survivors found.

Immorality Increasing, Survivors found.

Who finds the Survivors? Sometimes it is the world, or one person who finds the survivor, and sees them for who they truly are. Sometimes the survivor finds herself. Finds that she is strong. Finds that she has overcome at least part of the world, or part of herself. So no matter what the crisis, there are survivors found. The question I must always ask myself is "Will I find myself among them?"