So, the seasons have changed. The winter jumped into summer. No spring really to speak of. In my own way, so I, too, have gone from winter into summer. Recent events have turned my life inside down and upside out, which makes perfect sense when you think about it. I have not written anything on here or anywhere else in quite some time, which I regret. I have so many ideas bouncing around in my head that I should have multiple novels and maybe even a series published by now. Alas, it has not happened, and it seems that more and more lately my patience with anything has been low. I do not remember when I was more patient. A good friend of mine says that since I do wait for things, no matter how much irritation they cause, that I do indeed have patience. Maybe that is true, and people who have patience go through the same mental frustration that I do, yet not showing it outwardly. Maybe that is the true meaning of patience. I wish it didn't cause so much stress, especially as stress and I do not mix well in a way others cannot understand.
Now you might be thinking to yourself, "How can he have transitioned from a wintery state to a summer like one? It seems more like the opposite, as summer is generally considered a happier state of being." The answer to that is somewhat complicated. Summer is a time when great storms occur in the world. This is caused by the transition of weather currents and temperatures, with varying degrees of severity. It is indeed a time that most people are happier. The sky has been revealed blue and shining after so long hidden by the dreary clouds and constant cold. People can go outside without having to bundle up in layers to prevent the chill. Why shouldn't it be a happy time?
I, being one to dwell on the negative more times than naught, see the problems it brings more than the joy. I see both, however, and do not always brood on the bad. I can appreciate the warmth. I enjoy swimming and the feel of the sun on my skin as I work. I love the smell of the trees, the feel of grass under my bare feet, and the fresh breeze on my face. Yet, beneath it all, there lies the rub. I don't enjoy too much heat. I don't enjoy the allergies that plague the summer months. I love storms, yet hate the destruction they bring. I love summer. Yet I hate it.
This is how I feel. I was in a constant state of sadness and loneliness. Now, I am happy, and at the same time, confused and not sure of where I am going. So many things have changed in the past few months. I don't like change, but change is inevitable. I have been in a rut before. I was there quite a long time, but managed to dig myself out again. Not without help, of course. You can never deal with your problems on your own. When you try that, it only makes things worse, and the deeper the rut becomes. I will get out, but it is the oddest feeling to be so happy and yet so lost at the same time.
I have met some great people up here. I met someone who turned everything in my world around, but that, too, came with more confusion and doubt than should be. But who am I to decide what should be? God is the only one who knows the plan for me. I need to trust in Him to guide me, but that is the hard part. As a human, letting someone else take control goes against every fiber of my being. It's human nature to be selfish - to want control over one's own life. Every time I leave it to Him, though, it turns out better. Why, then, is it still a struggle? Why do we constantly battle against what we know will ultimately be the most beneficial? I see the results of trusting Him, yet the instant something I want is not what He wants for me, I turn away in anger. So much doubt. So much anger.
I know what I must do, and I know why. Yet, as usual, I don't want to do it. I am afraid to trust in anyone. I have been hurt too many times. I know that God will never leave me or forsake me, yet trust still does not come easily. How did I ever get to this point? As a good friend once told me, we can't change the past, only the future. I have so many regrets, but I need to lay them at His feet. I need to let Him take control, and not worry about what it may bring. He is in control of everything, and He alone knows what is best. I only pray that I can do it. With his help, and the help of others, I know I can achieve it.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Book Excerpt
Here is an excerpt of a book I have been working on. Hope you enjoy.
As he ran down the street, his thinking was jumbled and confused. He could not come up with a coherent thought; it was as if his brain had lost signal and gone to white noise. Left. Left. Right. Another left. Down the streets of the city he ran at full speed. So blurred was his thinking that even the streets and surrounding buildings seemed to be a solid streak of color.
Wait. What the-- The half formed thought came crashing to a halt. The streets and buildings were a blur. Cars were falling behind him, time seemed to have no meaning. He was moving faster than sight could follow. He glanced behind and saw a wake of destruction. It looked as if a great explosive force had shot up the sidewalk on which he ran.
That split seconds glance nearly cost him dearly. His eyes snapped forward in time to see the bus on the street perpendicular to his. Directly in front of him. There was no time to think. Some deep instinctual reflex took over then: at the last second he arched backwards, feet floating parallel to the ground. Seemingly against gravity he flew on his back straight underneath the moving bus. His hands grabbed the axle, the sudden pull lifting his legs higher and curving them up and out the other side, the undercarriage missing his face by less than a centimeter.
Shooting nearly straight up, he gracefully tucked in his legs and righted himself, landing firmly on his feet. On top of a light pole.
What is going on?! This isn't possible! His heart rate felt off the charts. It was getting painful. It was excruciating. His whole body felt like it was on fire. What the-- He blacked out......
As he ran down the street, his thinking was jumbled and confused. He could not come up with a coherent thought; it was as if his brain had lost signal and gone to white noise. Left. Left. Right. Another left. Down the streets of the city he ran at full speed. So blurred was his thinking that even the streets and surrounding buildings seemed to be a solid streak of color.
Wait. What the-- The half formed thought came crashing to a halt. The streets and buildings were a blur. Cars were falling behind him, time seemed to have no meaning. He was moving faster than sight could follow. He glanced behind and saw a wake of destruction. It looked as if a great explosive force had shot up the sidewalk on which he ran.
That split seconds glance nearly cost him dearly. His eyes snapped forward in time to see the bus on the street perpendicular to his. Directly in front of him. There was no time to think. Some deep instinctual reflex took over then: at the last second he arched backwards, feet floating parallel to the ground. Seemingly against gravity he flew on his back straight underneath the moving bus. His hands grabbed the axle, the sudden pull lifting his legs higher and curving them up and out the other side, the undercarriage missing his face by less than a centimeter.
Shooting nearly straight up, he gracefully tucked in his legs and righted himself, landing firmly on his feet. On top of a light pole.
What is going on?! This isn't possible! His heart rate felt off the charts. It was getting painful. It was excruciating. His whole body felt like it was on fire. What the-- He blacked out......
Thursday, January 13, 2011
The Basis For This Blog
I find myself in the woods. It’s autumn, the leaves are orange and brown, and the ground is covered with them. The trees are majestic and tall: maple, oak, and redwood. The light filters through them with a soft glow. It seems to be near dusk. The ground slopes gently upward, and as I look back I see that I am near the edge of the trees. No. The hill slopes down to a small path. At least, it seems to be a path. There is gravel or signs of travel, just a small flat surface before the ground slopes up again on the other side.
There is no sound. Not the chirp of a bird, or the chatter of a squirrel, nor even the sound of the wind which is blowing the leaves. Even as I walk towards the path I hear not the sound of the leaves under my feet. Reaching the path, I notice yet another oddity: I cannot feel the wind either. In fact, I cannot feel if I am cold or warm. I do not smell the normal smells of the forest. I seem to be robbed of all my senses, except that of sight.
Up until now, more concerning was the incongruity of my surroundings, yet now a single though permeates my thoughts. Where am I? It seems so familiar, and yet foreign as well. The feeling I have been here before is overwhelming, yet, even as I examine this, my mind is scanning memories, insisting otherwise. Such contradicting emotions! My heart tells me I must have, yet all reason and sanity say otherwise. What does it mean? Is this some memory that has long lay dormant in the confines of my subconscious? If so, what could have triggered its appearance?
If it isn’t a memory, then how did it come to be? What could have cause such a rift in my consciousness to create such a place? A world that you can see, but not feel, taste, smell, or hear. Someplace so set apart from a normal reality that one is forced to conclude it isn’t real. Even in a trance, one would have some small semblance of normalcy, would they not? If you are in a dream and you are frightened, then the logical thing is to tell yourself it isn’t real. It is true that many times you do not realize it is a dream, but in many cases the dream is so bizarre that you can only come to that conclusion.
But wait, something is changing. As I stand gazing at the trees, I feel the first faint wisp of wind upon my face. It was so faint, at first, that I could barely understand what was happening. Now it is a cool breeze upon my face, just like the last gust of Fall before the winter sets in. I can smell the air now. The familiar scents of the forest permeate the air: the musk of the leaves, and a small trace of distant rain. The crunch of the leaves beneath my feet reaches my ears. The wind in the trees sounds like the roar of the ocean, yet steadier and less booming.
The sense of familiarity returns stronger than ever. I know I have been here before. As I look towards that first hill upon which I stood, suddenly my gaze is locked. I cannot cast my gaze anywhere but towards a small section of the hill. A single tree is in the center of my vision: a maple, its branches swaying in the wind. Beyond, the first section of the forest stands like a row stoic sentinels. To the left the hill slopes down and out of my sight. The breeze blows a few leaves down the hill. The impression that there is something important about that spot resounds greatly in my mind. Why?
The wind brings a new sound. Laughter. It is gone. Wait, there it is again. This time it sounds like the laughter of children. It comes and then is carried away again on the wind. Coupled with this, my emotions step into hyperactivity. Suddenly, all semblances that I shouldn’t know this place are wiped away. I do know this place. I do not know how, but I am absolutely sure I have been here before. With this realization comes another: there should be someone there on the hill. I do not know who, but I know it to be true. The playful nature of the laughter suggests that the missing person might be a child. Or was a child. Someone I knew long ago?
I think that I must be the other. Yes. I was the other child on that slope. Someone very close once played there with me. A person who’s identity escapes me and whose very presence I had forgotten. For now I am certain that this is a memory, only lacking certain parts. Where is this missing friend? If they were so close, how could I have forgotten them? Repressed memories, perhaps? Even as these thoughts invade my mind, I am overcome with the greatest sadness imaginable. It is so overwhelming I fall to the ground. It is some kind of indefinable longing for something I cannot remember. An urge to do things I once did, to be with people I once knew, or to find this place once more.
Hot tears roll down my cheeks, and I suddenly find myself sobbing. Why was I brought here? Where is this sad and yet wonderful place? How can I not remember something so important?
I lay on the ground, paralyzed. My mind has gone blank. I see without comprehension. The sky is turning dark. The memory is fading away.
Up until now, more concerning was the incongruity of my surroundings, yet now a single though permeates my thoughts. Where am I? It seems so familiar, and yet foreign as well. The feeling I have been here before is overwhelming, yet, even as I examine this, my mind is scanning memories, insisting otherwise. Such contradicting emotions! My heart tells me I must have, yet all reason and sanity say otherwise. What does it mean? Is this some memory that has long lay dormant in the confines of my subconscious? If so, what could have triggered its appearance?
If it isn’t a memory, then how did it come to be? What could have cause such a rift in my consciousness to create such a place? A world that you can see, but not feel, taste, smell, or hear. Someplace so set apart from a normal reality that one is forced to conclude it isn’t real. Even in a trance, one would have some small semblance of normalcy, would they not? If you are in a dream and you are frightened, then the logical thing is to tell yourself it isn’t real. It is true that many times you do not realize it is a dream, but in many cases the dream is so bizarre that you can only come to that conclusion.
But wait, something is changing. As I stand gazing at the trees, I feel the first faint wisp of wind upon my face. It was so faint, at first, that I could barely understand what was happening. Now it is a cool breeze upon my face, just like the last gust of Fall before the winter sets in. I can smell the air now. The familiar scents of the forest permeate the air: the musk of the leaves, and a small trace of distant rain. The crunch of the leaves beneath my feet reaches my ears. The wind in the trees sounds like the roar of the ocean, yet steadier and less booming.
The sense of familiarity returns stronger than ever. I know I have been here before. As I look towards that first hill upon which I stood, suddenly my gaze is locked. I cannot cast my gaze anywhere but towards a small section of the hill. A single tree is in the center of my vision: a maple, its branches swaying in the wind. Beyond, the first section of the forest stands like a row stoic sentinels. To the left the hill slopes down and out of my sight. The breeze blows a few leaves down the hill. The impression that there is something important about that spot resounds greatly in my mind. Why?
The wind brings a new sound. Laughter. It is gone. Wait, there it is again. This time it sounds like the laughter of children. It comes and then is carried away again on the wind. Coupled with this, my emotions step into hyperactivity. Suddenly, all semblances that I shouldn’t know this place are wiped away. I do know this place. I do not know how, but I am absolutely sure I have been here before. With this realization comes another: there should be someone there on the hill. I do not know who, but I know it to be true. The playful nature of the laughter suggests that the missing person might be a child. Or was a child. Someone I knew long ago?
I think that I must be the other. Yes. I was the other child on that slope. Someone very close once played there with me. A person who’s identity escapes me and whose very presence I had forgotten. For now I am certain that this is a memory, only lacking certain parts. Where is this missing friend? If they were so close, how could I have forgotten them? Repressed memories, perhaps? Even as these thoughts invade my mind, I am overcome with the greatest sadness imaginable. It is so overwhelming I fall to the ground. It is some kind of indefinable longing for something I cannot remember. An urge to do things I once did, to be with people I once knew, or to find this place once more.
Hot tears roll down my cheeks, and I suddenly find myself sobbing. Why was I brought here? Where is this sad and yet wonderful place? How can I not remember something so important?
I lay on the ground, paralyzed. My mind has gone blank. I see without comprehension. The sky is turning dark. The memory is fading away.
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