Well, lets try this again. Another journaling page, another day. I was feeling rather uninspired yesterday, it just felt as if I was repeating myself to myself. Like I was writing out only old thoughts, thoughts that I had already thought out and developed, if in nothing more, than in my own mind. You know that feeling that you are saying something over and over again without the thought ever changing from what it had been originally? Where you can bring nothing new or interesting to a sentence because it is a sentence that you have already been through and thought out. All that was what I was feeling yesterday as I tried to form a journaling page. Today I don’t feel that way so much- I feel like I can write out new thoughts, thoughts that I haven’t yet touched. I suppose that is what I consider writers block. Others may tell me that writers block is when you simply can’t write. There is nothing else to it but that you can’t write. I think though, writers block is also that sense that you have already been through those thoughts that you are trying to write out. It’s like when I try and write a story with a scene I have worked out over and over again in my head and suddenly when I’m trying to find the words that will fit that scene just write, all words vanish from the air and none will come to you. Over thinking things. I do that rather a lot. Over thinking things that really don’t need so very much thought placed into them. It can be a good thing and a bad thing I suppose. Good in that I want to place thought and care into everything I do, bad in that I sometimes want to place too much thought into something that is in all actuality just as it appears to be, it is face value, and there is nothing going on behind that face value. Thoughts are funny things, you know, they aren’t like orderly sentences all packaged together in nice orderly paragraphs. They are what I call rambling when I put them into words. I like to write as I think because I like to read that sort of writing. It feels natural, slipping from one thing to the next. All with a point to it, but a turning, twisting, rambling way of reaching that point. If thoughts were a picture I would imagine rambling to be the winding road that curves and loops as it makes it’s way up the hill, whereas another more orderly way of writing would be the straight and narrow road, cutting straight up the hill and reaching it’s destination with far less detours. However I rather like detours, pleasant stops along the way, stopping to sniff the flowers on the road’s edge, and that’s how I write. I like to make many detours in my writing, I like to see where I end up. You see, I really had no idea where I was going to go from this prompt, and just look where we ended up, and look at the rambling road behind us.
I’m reading…
Little Dorrit. One thing that I have been finding interesting in reading this book is I really have no idea on what my true opinion is about the characters. Most of the time I’m quick to judge on whether I love, hate, or am neutral about a character, but somehow reading this book I just can’t decide. My opinion changes with each word they utter, or action they commit, always changing as my view of these characters expands and grows. One minute I am thinking of Arthur Clennam as the perfect gentleman, kind and compassionate, friendly and rather selfless. The next minute I’m questioning his thoughts, wondering at his motivations, peering into his background and wondering what I might find there. One minute I am thinking of Amy Dorrit as the sweetest girl I have ever read, dear and hardworking, sweet and loving. The next minute she changes too and I’m wondering at her exclamation and her rather frenzied action. I have not yet read much on John Chivery yet even with he I have already been through varied opinions concerning him. One minute he seems rather foolish and clunk-ish, (Rather like another Mr. Cox from ‘Wives and Daughters’) the next devoted and the object of our love and heartbreaking sympathy. I rather wonder how my opinion will change yet again regarding these characters and all the others as I progress through the story (many, many other characters too. Charles Dickens certainly gives you a lot of people who all have a purpose to them and all of whom you cannot forget. Must remember. I wonder if he himself had to write out all of the names and a bit of a description regarding each one just so he could keep track of them all? I know I would have had to, but then again, I am not Charles Dickens by any means).
I’m creating…
Which of the little creations in the works should I focus on in my description? Shall it be the water color hearts I was cutting out this morning? Shall it be the drawing of Audrey Hepburn that I just finished? Shall it be the story that I wrote in the last lingering hours of yesterday? Perhaps a mixture of all of them together. Last Valentine’s day we painted sheets and sheets of water color paper with pink and yellow colors, and then I cut out hundreds (literally hundreds. I think there was some two hundred and fifty of them all together) and we strung them up on ribbon and they hung on our walls for months. This year I’m afraid we weren’t so on top of things. The little boys painted the top sides of the paper a few days ago, and yesterday I felt in the mood to slop some paint around. The nice thing about this project is you don’t have to worry about mess, indeed it looks much better on the finished hearts if there is a plentitude of watermarks and unplanned streaks of darker paint running across the paper. It was really quite relaxing, I took up the brush and swirled it around and it made me quite happy. This morning I spent a little bit of time drawing out the hearts and cutting them out. I know, Valentine’s Day was over yesterday, but there’s always more room for watercolor hearts for next year, isn’t there?
My drawing of Audrey Hepburn I’m actually rather proud of at the moment. I shall try and get a good picture that I can include with this journaling page. I spent quite a bit of time fiddling with the nose and the lips and I know even know they aren’t just right, but I’m still rather happy with it because I think it’s the closest likeness I’ve come to as far as drawing someone from a picture and having it look like them.
My story was a story I was trying to write up for a contest, the requirements being that you wrote up a short story in the form of a single letter or several. Last night I was hit by a bit of an idea at how I wanted to write it out and after a bit of debating on the wording I hurriedly wrote it up. I haven’t yet decided whether I like it or not. I think it requires some thought and rereading after a few days when I will be better able to look at what I DID write rather than what I was TRYING to write. That’s always the difficulty you know. It’s rather easy to think of something, just after you wrote it, as how you were wanting it to turn out, but when you read it a few days later you see that it was rather different and that the words you chose were not the ones you were thinking of. You just need to let it simmer in the back of your mind for a few days.
I’m hoping and praying…
For a beautiful and enriching Lent time. For the people I know in my life, in my day to day and also those people I know by emailing and letter writing. I’m praying for all of them right now. Praying for happiness for them, for a peaceful Lent, for a smile about some little joy today. I’m praying that I will be able to become a better and kinder person in all things. More steadfast in my schoolwork, kinder and more compassionate, and better able to find the right words when I need them, and not such a complainer about simple things.
From the kitchen…
A steaming bowel of soup before me, a whistling teapot there on the counter, chicken bubbling away in the crock-pot, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on pirate plates for little brothers.
I’m listening to…
To the sound of quiet actually. Rather nice. The boys have all gone to eat their lunch outside and have a picnic of sorts, so I’m enjoying the peaceful sound of piano music in the background and listening to the quiet.
Outside my window…
Blue skies and sunshine, is spring on the way? I hope so. I’m ready for springtime. For tulips and daffodils to begin to start blooming and blue skies and puffy white clouds. I love winter, I love the cold days and the cool crisp air, I love the chance of snowflakes and sweaters and mittens but I’m ready for the signs of spring now.
Picture thoughts I'm sharing...
My drawing of Audrey Hepburn
A Letter for Australia...
A Flour Heart from baking...
Water colors for water color hearts...
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