A little time off has done me wonders! My spirits are high and I am feeling refreshed. FYI, I've earmarked July 1 to start up the old blogging engine again. Hey, she might be a year old, but she's got some miles left in her yet!
Hope everybody is enjoying their summer. I'll see you in a week!
As unbelievable as it may sound, I'm tearing myself away from the computer for a while, and jumping into the real world to have some fun.
Oh alright, you can come, too. But you have to leave the laptop. Seriously. Give it- let GO-
Sheesh! Just stay then!
Really though- I will be back, I just need to get some fresh air.
Since it's been a while, here is some stuff to keep you busy:
Thrift Store Art (All I can say is "yes. oh yes.")
Unsolved Codes throughout the ages. (Hey, somebody has to solve em. Might as well be you, smartypants!)
A Man- no, a zoo- or something?
And my favorite... if we were all ducks, this would be perfectly normal.
I’m running low. Low on money. Low on ideas. Low on energy.
I’m blue because I had to postpone my beach trip. I use the word “postpone” instead of ”cancel” because that makes me feel a little better. Maybe next summer it will work out. In the meantime, I am going to let the kids go to my mom’s house like I had planned, because I think I still need the break. I might take a blanket to the park on those days and find Me Time in the green grass instead of blue waves. It’s not quite what I had in mind, but I’m trying to see the bright side of things.
My lack of blogging lately… hm… I can honestly say I’ve been very busy. I’m working on my “anniversary post”, because if you’ll notice, APOG is a year old this month! Happy Birthday to moi! Plus I’ve been reading some great creative writing books, which I’ll expound on later. My brother moved this week, which was a rather big event. Patrick’s birthday was yesterday (Happy 29th!!) and Eli was sick all last week. Plus a thousand other little things that have required my attention—they’ve slowed me down a tad.
But… underneath it all, I guess I’ve been in a funk. When I lose sight of the good things, the blessings, the mercies… I slip far from where I should be. I am grateful for the realization though- glad to become painfully aware of my sins and weaknesses, because it makes me crave a cleaner soul. The desire to be happy and unburdened and protected renews itself in me, and I creep back home like the Prodigal Son. Broken and dirty and weak – all from my own efforts and by my own hand.
Some lessons we learn a thousand times in our lifetime, don’t we?
I find it difficult at times to write what's happening in my life without fictionalizing it somehow. Isn't that odd? I want to tell you about Wrenn's antics at the pool, and my first impulse is to make a story out of it. I wanted to talk about the summer, what we're doing, blah blah blah- and sometimes that's harder than writing a few sentences of dialogue between some made up characters.
Many elements that come out of these short stories/scenes originate from how I'm feeling at the moment. That can be good and bad. On one hand (the bad one), it's a way to assign responsibility for those difficult or painful emotions to the characters and not me. It gets me out of the hotseat. On the other, it does give me an opportunity to explore some things I might not feel comfortable with in "real life". I go places with a pen that I'm not brave enough to in reality.
I don't want to live my life in fiction, though. So with that in mind, I will post some of the goings-on in the Trisler neighborhood, minus the dramatic pauses and scene setting.
Patrick finished his 3rd year of school in May. There was MUCH rejoicing. His grades were good, despite the efforts of one particularly heinous teacher who was surely out to get him. He starts his 4th year in the Fall, the final year of classes. (His 5th year will be a conglomeration of studio time and internship.) So, we're excited. He's in the home stretch!!
He won't be the only one in school though. That's right, Wrennie will be busting up in a 4 year old kindergarten class in the Fall. She'll be attending three half-days a week at the Christian school supported by our church. She loves the whole idea of school, the teachers, the kids, learning. She'll thrive. I'll cry.
Eli, the Scamp of the Trisler household, is busy doing his own thing. He's the most indescribable of all of us. Dramatic and funny, all boy, busy making trouble and messes. Hard to believe he's 16 months old.
Work is great- though the schedule can be difficult at times. I work 3p-11p, which is a fun shift, but Patrick and I don't see a lot of each other. He is walking in the door from work as I am walking out. We chat on the phone and at night when I get home, but it's the biggest downside to our situation. We're making it work though, and these days are numbered.
I'm planning something totally extravagent for myself in June. I'm driving over to Pensacola for a weekend of Me Time. I am trying my hardest to remain guilt-free over it- I feel bad not taking anyone with me, and spending money I really don't have on something so... unvital. But, I suppose there are times when you need to stop worrying and just do it. This is that time for me.
The idea is to seclude myself for a few days and write, write, write. I've never done anything like that before- and I'm curious to see what happens when I remove the distractions of life and force the pen to keep moving in my hands.
Well, that's the latest non-fiction in my life! I'm proud of myself! Now if I can just keep from using the words "The End"... That's going to be the challenge.
"What is it?" I asked curiously, fingering the vial with my name on it.
"That's a small question with a large answer," replied the gray man. "It's the distilled essence of your spirit, I suppose. It's what makes you... you."
"So, we all have one?" I asked, marveling at the millions of bottles nestled in the sand. No bird flew in this white sky, and the waves tiptoed onto the pale shore in quiet rhythm.
"Yes, every man."
I uncorked the bottle, and peered over the rim. A sapphire liquid shimmered brightly in the glass and I wondered where such a thing was born.
"Careful," advised the gray man. "You have only one."
“And you take care of them?”
“In a manner of speaking. However, the ultimate responsibility belongs to each person. The course you choose in this life, your words and deeds, either enhance or diminish what’s in that bottle. Some become water, void of taste and color. Others sparkle like jewels in amber and pearl and ruby. And others, sadly, thicken into sludge and muck.”
“Why is mine blue? What does it mean?”
The gray man peered into my eyes, with a quizzical expression. “Don’t you know? You created that color, only you truly know the reason.”
I smiled to myself as I replaced the cork. Kneeling in the sand, I nestled my bottle back into its place. “There was a time,” I whispered, “that I almost forgot.”
I turned from the beach, and from the gray man. I traced my footprints back the way I had come, having learned the lesson meant for me. I walked until the bottles were far behind, and the sound of gulls once again filled the air. I looked up into the cerulean sky, thankful.
We tread the shores of our dreams for many reasons.
"Writing is easy. All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead." - Gene Fowler
That says it for today. Sorry about the lack of posts recently. I've buried myself in a few good books, but I'll be back soon.
Oh alright, I'm reading the books at the pool. But only because the light is better.
It's still very academic of me.
Really.