productivity

Yes, yes, no need to point out the obvious, quote unnecessary statistics of how often or quickly New Year resolutions are broken, or point your proverbial-never-has-a-problem-typing finger at me: I know I've not been writing.

Here is what I have been doing with all my new found free time and recently relieved of burdens:

1. Reading the entirety of Isaiah chapter 30, over and over again.

2. Sketching on the front of my new five subject, folders included, five star, see-through notebook cover.

3. Listening to what still, in the absence of all the really good albums I own [hint, hint, Ryan], remains the number one album of the year: A Liturgy, Legacy, and a Ragamuffin Band.

4. Reading, in no particular order, either of book or chapter:
The Parish Papers by George MacDonald
Sketches From A Life by George E. Kennen
The Pursuit of God by A.W. Tozer
[And while it appears that the George's may have the corner on the name market, allow me to say that A.W. has the corner on life ambitions.]

5. Perusing these websites:
penelopeillustration
maganda
danny gregory
and my personal favorite,
frenchtoastgirl

So while it has been a long and a mite bit boring week, it has been a productive week.

If anyone has any further thoughts on ways to increase my productivity before school starts in three days, I'll be available for ideas, though not autographs, in the comments section.

hope

Today is January 14th and I spoke with my dad a short time ago. Neither of us mentioned the fact that this used to be a day filled with daffodils and girly cards, secrets and surprise breakfasts in bed for the parental units of my family. But it was there. The knowledge of an anniversary which isn't. The day we celebrate nothing for another year. Funny. Because we always remember the painful anniversaries with some sort of melancholic wistfulness, what might have been, what isn't. Birthdays, death days, graduation days, holidays, and now January 14th joins the more saddening side of that group. It doesn't mean we've lost hope, it only means we're in limbo, waiting to see what is going to happen; when it is going to happen.

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad. I have a card waiting to be mailed for whenever you're ready.

inbox

Not doing so well on the resolution. For lack of anything better to write on my own, from my inbox:

So as much as this has to rot for you, in some ways (with enough faith perhaps) it's got to be extremely exciting. Look ahead. Can't see anything? Look further ahead, squint, grasp that which is not seen. And in light of the pressures of life, make the changes necessary to get you there in one piece.

And I guess you won't be in one piece. That is, I'm not sure Christ on Calvary could be considered "one piece," somehow the cross and death have the ability to wreck all that who we are. But atop that cross He was able to look down upon the others, and see where He had left His life. "Son, behold your mother. Mother, behold your son."

But one thing I'm learning in this season more than ever is that we must fight the enemy not for the glory of God as much as for the abundance of joy that can be ours today, this day. And that (listen here) that doesn't always mean it has to be in a "some day we will rejoice" type of melancholy rejoicing. God wants to teach us His nature through little battles and little victories. Victories--that means you get what you were fighting for.

And so what is it you want from Him? What's on your heart? What is He promising to give to you? Fight for it. Fight for it so much that you can taste it now. Believe that He desires to show you such goodness. Trust Him. Wait for Him. And watch Him become so much bigger, so much better than you ever imagined.

And it gives hope. A glimmer, perhaps, but hope that there's more than this expanse of visionless and monotonous existence. I'm hopeful. For what I don't know. But I'm hopeful.

danny

Can I have two posts with the same title? And is it awfully repetitive to make them both about the same person? And if said person is my younger brother, is it especially prideful to write so much about him?

There are seven gold coins on my living room floor. They make a perfect daisy pattern on an otherwise ugly blue carpet. They are not real gold of course, just the tinny faux representation of something the downtown laundry mat uses as tokens in their washers and dryers. But don't let me get ahead of myself, this post is about my brother Danny, not the royal-blued Super Suds of Main St. Potsdam.

You see, Danny is leaving this week. In two days to be exact. He is moving back to where we're from in Pennsylvania. He was offered a great job there and he's done all the right things to make sure it's the right thing. He's good like that. Some of the right things he's done in the past week are:

-Taking me to breakfast at The Hop.
-Stopping by my flu-infested apartment every day for the past three and sitting on the white chair listening to me try to breathe, and he himself trying not to breathe. I can't blame him.
-Asking me what I think - No, really think, Lore, what do you really think - about this move.
-Initiating an 'I love you' as he closes the door to leave.
-Encouraging me to love someone he's come to love and whom I haven't loved enough.
-Laying seven faux gold coins on the carpet next to my sick head. 'To do your laundry with,' he said.

Priceless.

distain

Not a good sign. Day one of my resolution and already nothing to write about. I suppose it doesn't help the creative juices when one has been relegated to the couch in favor of life, covered by a perfect patchwork quilt and keeping a steady supply of Kleenex tissues, Ricola cough drops and Welch's White Grape Juice by one's side. I have suddenly tired of all the books I have in my posession which I always wish for time to read and am frustrated at the slim movie pickings and lack of a universal remote control, things I pride myself on NOT ever being frustrated about.

I voted for getting rid of the Wirlpool dishwasher in our old house when we remodeled the kitchen. I vowed to never get a cell phone if I could help it -- I don't know when the point where I couldn't help it came, but it creeped up and pounced with sudden force sometime this past fall. I couldn't care less about the technology which seems to be this generation's snare of preference and, frankly, I turn my nose up at things like ipods and thumb drives. But give me a remote control WHEN I HAVE THE FLU FOR PETE'S SAKE.

That's all for today.

edit

So maybe it's a little late and everyone has already made and posted and broken their New Year's Resolution, but I'm a little slow and anyone who told you differently was selling something. So today, the eleventh of January in the year 2005, I've made my resolution.

I will write something every day for at least a month.
edit: I will write something if i have the time every day for at least a month.

And that's it.
Why? Because I'm sure you've noticed, esspecially if you frequent my old weblogs, that the amount of entries posted on a regular basis is hardly enough to warrant the term Weblog being bestowed upon a piece of wasted web space. Basically, I've stopped writing entirely. Oh, I'm sure I could string you along with the assumption that I'm writing elsewhere for my private viewing only, but to be perfectly honest and unassuming, I haven't been.

So my resolutions is to write. What I will write remains to be seen, but even the best authors say they have no idea where the story will end. And who knows, maybe at the completion of this month this story will have found an end as well. I don't know. We'll see.

tweaking

Sorry for all the untweaked stuff here, folks. I'm still working on it. If you want to read nice looking stuff you can head over to lore.unskewed.com and give kudos to Ryan for all his nicely-working-user-friendly hostliness. If not, remain here and be patient with my humanity and put up with my lack of commitment to the art of HTML.

Story

I built another temple to a stranger
I gave away my heart to the rushing wind
I set my course to run right into danger
Sought the company of fools instead of friends
You know I've been unfaithful
Lovers in lines
While you're turning over tables
With the rage of a jealous kind
I chose the gallows to the aisle
Thought that love would never find
Hanging ropes will never keep you
And your love of a jealous kind
Love of a jealous kind

Tryin' to jump away from rock that keeps on spreading
For solace in the shift of the sinking sand
I'd rather feel the pain all too familiar
Than be broken by a lover I don't understand
'Cause I don't understand

One hundred other lovers, more,
one hundred other altars
If I should slow my pace and finally subject me to grace
And love that shame the wise,
betrays the heart's deceit and lies
And breaks the back of foolish pride

leaves

A chapter of sorts, a new leaf of a kind, though I don't see an italicized THE END anytime soon; a death of old and a murder of opportunity. I chose this, not that. I chose that, not this. I chose it with the full knowledge that should not even one go with me – my commitment still stands. Somehow when the rubber hits the road it hurts more than the daily wear it formerly undertook. Slow pain, slow death never feels quite so painful as the instantaneous blow bringing us back to the reality of manna and water. And so it ought to be. I asked for a way out of Egypt and a journey which would bring me close to Him. Will I throw up my hands, scatter the manna, and spit in the water because the trip isn’t as accommodating as I think it ought to be?

So, happy 2005. Turning over a new leaf, a new slice of manna, or forgetting both and hoping for better things, it proves to be an adventure nonetheless.