Creative Sunburst

My life lately has been lovely.
So lovely I think sunbursts are shooting out my ears. That are coming from my brain. Which has been lovely to me lately. Don't you love it when your brain is just really nice to you and comes up with all these fantastic ideas?
Lately my life has consisted of that

lovely, beautiful, fantastic, delightful, marvelous

radiant, superb

time

when creativity comes in abundance.

It seems that lately my mind has been spurting out ideas faster than I can write down in my little notebook. It feels as if creativity is hitting me from every direction. And I can assure you that if I wanted to be hit by anything, it would be creativity.

From every part of my life: people, books, poems, movies, stories, coffee shops, and life in general have been inspiring me in photography, art, writing, music, and an assortment of other things. I feel like the story of my life recently has been a crazily inspired story, and could be put into book form. I feel like the winter shadows are already receding, causing my spring photography sessions to come into play. I feel like the images I see in day to day life could be put into a drawing of near Dr. Seuss whimsicality.

I'm discovering that the best inspiration for all art (music, drawing, writing stories and poetry, photography, etc.) is simply life. Recently someone assumed that I was writing a story since I'm so into journaling, which I'm not. But when I examined my life I realized there were so many different ways I could twist my story into another story that I could write. Quite often when I'm riding down a back road, listening to a song, experiencing an emotion all I can think about is taking a picture of it, painting a picture of what I feel, writing a story about what is happening, banging out an "open letter" to whatever is bothering me this time. Life is indeed the fountain of creativity.

When you are describing,

A shape, or sound, or tint;

Don't state the matter plainly,

But put it in a hint;

And learn to look at things,

With a sort of mental squint.

-Lewis Carroll

The inconvenient thing about creativity, however, is it doesn't appreciate waiting. It doesn't like being put on hold. It seems that every moment of the day I have this deep desire to write a story or draw or go outside and do photography. Creativity is calling me from all sides - from my paper and pen, from my camera, from outdoors, from laughter, from conversations, from people, from nearly everything that I see. And it's trying to get out. Unfortunately, when you're writing an academic paper on Carolus Linnaeus or The Fugitive Slave Act, you can't exactly express your deepest pondering. I seek moments in the day to find an outlet for these activities, because as Victor Hugo once said, "An invasion of armies can be resisted, but not an idea whose time has come." And oh how right he was.
Creativity is such a beautiful thing because I think it causes us, especially in these times, to reach for something a little higher. To think a little harder. To ponder something. These days, people are so content to watch their TVs and play their video games and cheer on the next American Idol. People are so content with mediocrity. But why? There is something so beautiful and satisfying about being creative.  When I make something, I feel this wonderful sense of contentment and productivity. It's such a beautiful feeling I wonder why I'm not constantly creating things. I adore creativity. As children we are constantly coming up with the most ridiculous stories and ideas. But is that such a bad thing? When we become older children, teenagers, and young adults, people look down on creative minds and ridiculous ideas. We begin to lose our sense of wonder of the world, and eventually things don't appear as beautiful as they used to. That piece of paper you found in the yard isn't actually a clue to some great mystery. Those toys you leave at home don't actually become alive when you're gone. Of course, a child's imagination can be a little off the wall, where would our literature be if the authors hadn't been a little off the wall? Where on earth would Emma and Mr. Tolkinghorn and Sir Percy Blakeney and the Pevensies be if we hadn't had people who constantly turned their regular lives into masterpieces filled with laughter or mystery and intrigue or good lessons? Creativity is a necessary thing in our world. God has blessed everyone with creativity, and sometimes all we have to do is search for it a little bit. And as that awful tongue-twister of a book, I Hope You Dance, says, "I hope you never misplace your wonderful wonder."

"Around here, however, we don't look backwards very long. We keep moving forward, opening up new doors and doing new things, because we're curious... and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths."

-Walt Disney

When Sleep Won't Come

                                       Can't sleep tonight

                                       Been continually fighting

                                       My intolerance for rest.

                                       But as I curl up under the

                                       Warm sheets and blankets,

                                       With book in hand

                                       And craving some sort of warm liquid,

                                       Train whistle blowing languidly

                                       And fan ticking methodically,

                                       I realize that surely

                                       2:56 is surely the best time to do

                                                               anything.

Excuse me as I go read some Catching Fire.

(real post tomorrow... or today, rather. Promise)

Winter Repose

  Winter Day

Yellow flickers of a fire

Sparks behind the characters on the page

Leap in the air

Up into the black chute.

I slowly sip at

 Some simmering
savory chai.

Chuckle at some cynical statement

Snapping as the wood in the fireplace.

Embers of acoustic guitar

Hum in the background

Hitting my eardrums

With the sweetest sound

Of melodic James Taylor contentment.

A light he was to no one but himself

Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,

A quiet light, and then not even that.

-excerpt from An Old Man's Winter Night-

{robert frost}

51 more weeks to go

I just survived my first week of the year. And quite honestly, I'm kind of proud of that fact. This year has already been crazy.
Even just this past week has been so busy. Especially this weekend... I'm plum worn out. I worked really hard on school all day on Friday, tried to pick up my ridiculously stereotypically messy teenage girl room, then went over to my cousin's house to spend the night. Stayed up til two. Got up at 7:30, came back home, continued cleaning my room, then dismantling it almost completely so my mom and I could paint it. Painted, cleaned, washed the dog, nailed, hung, placed, organized until about 4:30 - when a bunch of my friends came over to have a get together before my buddy Steven heads back to college. That goes until 10. I go to sleep at 11:30ish, get up at 7:30 again, and have to work in the preschool area of my church. Go to my dad's Sunday School class. Come home, have the first hour of relaxation since the beginning of the weekend, then head out to my friend Christine's house to hang out with her before she goes back to college, then go back to church and practice for the Lifehouse skit that we're doing in a month. -whew-
That was a mouthful.
And that's kind of what the rest of my semester is looking like. As much as I hate this, I'm kind of dreading the next three or four months. In general, I don't dread the future. I look forward to new, exciting challenges and classes and lessons I'll learn. But this semester I just want it over with. Done. So many people are expecting so much out of me all at the same time. I have two APs I need to study for, I need to study for the SAT, I need to keep up with my regular classes. I have a composition class and a crazy hard Latin class I have to do on top of my home school classes. I have mock trial (which, if you aren't in mock trial, you can never comprehend how intense it is). I have (at least) three piano competitions I need to prepare for, plus my spring recital. I have the Lifehouse skit which takes a good deal of time to prepare for. And it seems like all of these things are so important that I have to do perfectly on them. I need to do well on APs and SATs and my regular classes to get enough scholarships to go to the college I want to go to. I need to do well in mock trial because... well... it's a competition. Same with piano. And I want to do well on the Lifehouse skit for a couple of reasons - it's a powerful message to my entire youth group and it will be great practice for acting. I feel like if I mess up on any of these something will surely fall apart. (P.S. prayers would be gigantically appreciated) 
It's when I look ahead to the 51 weeks ahead of me that I start freaking out.
51 weeks.
Crazy what can happen in 51 weeks.
I feel like I'm running a marathon - running, running, running. Racing to keep up and not fall behind all the others. Panting and huffing and not knowing if I'll be able to make the extra mile. Not knowing if I'll be able to push myself just a little bit more to accomplish just a few more goals. Not knowing if I'll be able to make my goal time. I'm tempted to stop by the water station and chill out for a few minutes. But then I remember I'm trying to win - and I keep running, running, running. Maybe even skip the water no matter how much I need it.
I'm on a race to make 5s on my APs and at least 2000s on my SAT. I'm on a race to keep my GPA up and not totally fail any of my classes. I'm on a race to have a perfect character in mock trial, to never fumble on my piano pieces, to be perfect in the Lifehouse skit, to be a caring friend and make time for all of my friends.
I'm on a race.
3.
2.
1.
And the next 51 weeks begin.

Don't be a stranger

I was standing in Barnes & Noble this evening looking at journals. I've nearly finished a journal that I've been using all year, and I was on a quest to find that perfect journal. I'm very adamant about a particular way that my journals must look. They need to be the perfect size, material, style, etc. It's nearly a journey for me to find the perfect journal. I had nabbed up several of them. Two or three with owls. One with a scene of Paris. One with Jane Austen quotes in it. One with the Beatles on it. There were so many choices. Eventually I snagged the perfect one - it's made out of natural materials, the paper is handmade, and the bookmark has a button on the end. Schnazzy, artsy, perfect for me.
Even though I had already decided which one I wanted, I still stood in the section wishing I had the money to buy all the journals in there. As I was standing there, a girl looking about my age walked up. Expecting the usual "I'm better than you" attitude I usually get from teenage girls, I pretty much ignored her and continued looking at the beautiful shelves stacked one on top of the other filled with empty pages meant to be written on. But as I continued looking, I heard a voice next to me say, "I like that journal." I looked over at the girl standing next to me, and I agreed with her. Even this unusual human contact with a stranger who was a teenage girl, I expected that to be the only thing she said. I gave kind of a long reply saying that I really enjoyed journals and had been journaling since I was eight. She expressed an interest and said, "Oh me too!" I was surprised she gave much of a response. Usually small talk you have with people ends up being only a few sentences.
But before I knew it, we were deep in conversation. Stemming from our conversation on journals, she asked me what I was interested in doing when I went to college, and I said I wanted to major in English. She excitedly replied she did too. We went on to talk about college, where we wanted to go, what we wanted to do after college. Then we started talking about books, our favorite authors and books, etc. She also told me she was on a retreat with her youth group, and we talked about Christianity, our churches, and we even talked about how we had both been going through some tough things lately, and how different circumstances in our lives were helping us get through that. I was very impressed with her openness about her faith - most people, especially teenagers usually don't strike up a conversation and immediately start talking about their faith. Before I knew it, a 20 or 30 minute conversation had occurred and I felt like we were friends.
One thing that I love is meeting strangers. I'm not usually one to strike up a conversation with a stranger, unless it's a bit of small talk. But when someone does it with me, I love just talking with a stranger. Meeting someone new. As Walt Whitman once said, "Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to you?" It's just an interesting thought that the person you're standing next to in the bookstore, the person sitting behind you in a coffee shop, the person waiting next to you at the stoplight - all of these people could be so similar to you. In fact, they could be a future good friend of yours. One of my biggest pet peeves is people's tendency to hide away from other humans. To never open up. To act superior and to walk with their noses in the air to hide a sense of insecurity about them. Even I have a tendency to do that sometimes. I wish people would open up sometimes - try to meet new people and interact with others. You never know what you could do for a stranger by doing so.
Don't be a stranger!

"A stranger is just a friend I haven't met yet."

-Will Rogers

Merry Christmas here's to many more

It's almost Christmas day.
As I sit on my bed with my Christmas, knee-toe socks, listening to my favorite Relient K Christmas songs, I can barely believe it's almost here. It feels like the season just began. And now it's almost over.
I've spent the past few days doing typical Christmasy things. Thursday was my baking fest: two batches of cookies, a batch of fudge, and two pecan pies. Three hours in the kitchen. It's not very often that I have the time or inclination to bake for three (or maybe it was four...) hours, but it just seemed like a classic Christmas thing to do. And oh how I do love baking. It fills the air with a scents of Christmas. (aha. Look at what I did there. Isn't that funny? No? Okay...)
Christmas presents galore today. My cousins, my brother, and I all went out mid afternoon today to do last minute Christmas shopping. Shops bursting at the seams with lots of folks and people smiling more than usual. Boots and hats and sweaters if you felt like being Christmasy even though it was in the 60s or 70s. It's so lovely to see everyone with Christmas in their hearts.
Despite the fact that I'm 16, Christmas holds a certain magic to it. I've almost always been one of those starry eyed, head-in-the-clouds kind of girls - reading the whole Anne of Green Gables series didn't help matters much. And so when something that's generally known as magical comes around, I'm all the more starry eyed, head-in-the-clouds. If you had been looking out the window of one of the houses in my neighborhood today, you might have spotted me skipping down the street gleefully looking at the pretty clouds and bright blue skies listening to Christmas Lights on my iPod. Every Christmas, and this year particularly, certain songs, smells, sights remind me of being a little kid. It's so beautiful.
I love how there is one time in the year that everyone wants to spend it doing traditional things, and spend it remembering, loving, cherishing those dear old memories of long ago (or not so long ago). Everyone becomes a child around Christmas. Everyone comes together, and there's a sense of love and that wintry color of blue in the air.

Every day during the Christmas season, I'm more than likely to get the chills thinking about a perfect Christmas scene. I smile as I open my windows in the morning and look at the chilly morning outside, frost on the ground, blue light making its way through the clouds covering any and all sky. If no one is looking, I might twirl around the kitchen for a full minute while humming I Hate Christmas Parties. I still go in the dining room where our Christmas tree is to count presents. I'll sit on my bed drinking chai or hot chocolate staring complacently out into the wintry clouds listening to I Celebrate the Day. And I may or may not dance around my room lip-syncing to All I Want for Christmas is You if I'm in not such a cozy-sweaters-and-chai mood.

Yes, indeed, I believe something fills me around Christmas that no other time of year can do. Oh yes, I'm a generally very happy person. But at Christmas I find a little bit more secret kind of joy. It's not the kind that everyone can see. It's a deep feeling of absolute bliss. A feeling of winter and blue skies and snow and white lights. A simple kind of peace. Peace.... candles flickering. Knitting fingerless gloves and leg warmers. Blankets and good books. Fires. It's that simplicity and complete contentedness that makes my heart so thrilled. And although if you were to look at me at such a moment of contentedness, you might only see a slight smile, as Anne of Green Gables would say, "I'm thrilled to the very depths of my soul."

I don't know if everyone enjoy Christmas in such a childish way as I do, but I believe that most people enjoy some sort of light feeling around the heart at this time of year. Amid all the stress of present wrapping and Christmas cookie baking, I think most people find some time to sit down and appreciate some sort of James Taylor easiness in their soul. (and if they don't, they must have an absolutely rotten month) It's so good to be around people who all feel that kind of joy.
One thing that has changed since when I was kid was that all I ever used to think about were the presents. Sure, I liked looking at lights and watching Christmas movies, but it all led up to the day that you actually opened presents. Now I couldn't care less about the presents. I just love the general mood. The beauty and wonder of the smiling heart. I care about the love that is spread. And I care about the childlike wonder that people are more likely to feel around Christmastime. It's a beautiful thing.

Another beautiful thing is the story about a teenage girl, a carpenter, and a baby born in a stable and placed in an animal trough. The story that continues to a cross. The story that tells of a loving Savior. One that would allow us to receive grace and redemption. The Christmas story gives us the promise stated in Ephesians 2:4-7, "But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ - by grace you have been saved - and raised us up with Him and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages He might show the immeasurable riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus." We have received this grace because of that lovely story that Linus tells in A Charlie Brown Christmas. Tidings of great joy. On earth peace and good will toward men.

Fragile finger sent to heal us

Tender brow prepared for thorn

Tiny heart whose blood will save us

Unto us is born

Unto us is born

So wrap our injured flesh around You

Breathe our air and walk our sod

Rob our sin and make us holy

Perfect Son of God

Welcome to our world 

Merry Christmas!
Here's to many more


{and I'm off to enjoy the typical Christmas Eve traditions - crab soup, opening one present, and watching a delightful Christmas classic... most likely It's a Wonderful Life or How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Oh how I love them both. Who doesn't love Dr. Seuss and Jimmy Stewart?}

Blessing Deeper Than We Know

Christmas.
Oh it's been so lovely this year.
Of course, when is Christmas not lovely?
But despite the fact that it has been lovely, I've been reminded of things that are even more lovely. And those are the most important things I've learned this year.

I've learned this year that most things that we make out to be so very important really mean nothing at all and the things that we tend to treat with least respect and value are the things that we need to value the most. We take so many things for granted.  Sometimes I think sometimes it takes loss to realize just how important some things are. That occurred to me this year. And it was jolted into me just how much I need to value things I had been neglecting.
I think a lot of times when we grow up, we begin to devalue the more important things.  And we tend to devalue those things because we've been taught and told and had it hammered into us that material things are more important. And perhaps we've heard the cliched, sappy statements about family and friends too many times. And perhaps the world begins to tell us as we become older that looks, money, possessions, popularity, and other completely worthless objects are the things that we need to value most. This year I've begun to learn that those things are pointless. They hold no lasting value. Sure, feeling popular is nice. Having the latest gadget, fine. Being rich, no problems there. Being gorgeous, that's all good. But when we begin to build our lives around if we're popular enough, if we look rich enough, if we're attractive enough, that's when things become ridiculous. We need to go back and remember those perhaps overly sappy, cheesy statements about friends and family. About making a difference. About loving others. Maybe those cliched statements aren't so far off.

The most valuable lesson I've learned this year is to treasure true friendship.

The value of a truly trustworthy friend.

Having people who you can chill out with. 

Sit around and listen to Weird Al songs with.

People who you can be a little crazy with. 

Who will love you anyway

And join in with your insanity

People who you know love you.

And will not matter what.

Who will listen to you, and who you'll listen to.

Who will

hug you.

Tell you it's alright.

The kinds of people who you can cry on their shoulder

and they can cry on yours.

Who you can laugh with.

Who you'll share your deepest thoughts with

and be frank with.

People who you

trust

care about

love.

Those people are the biggest blessings you'll receive in your life. You can't take them for granted. And you can't thank God enough for giving them to you. These people make you laugh, help you through hard times, challenge you to be a better person, and make your life more beautiful than you could ever ask for.

"The blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearlessly on any subject; with whom one's deepest as well as one's most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely. Oh, the comfort - the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person - having neither to weight thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away."
-Dinah Craik