New Blog

There is a Bend

I'll be posting there. Yes, it's been forever. I do apologize.

*hugs*

I’m thinking:

 At the moment I’m thinking of all the pleasant things I could write about for this journaling page. Often, before I actually begin writing I will go through all the prompts in my head and think of a thing or two to write for each. Today I’m coming up with simply dozens of things to write about.  For every prompt I could simply write and write and think of plenty of more things to write about. Oh it’s a lovely day. I’m especially happy as just a few minutes ago came a little brown package for me. A nice little package containing three paperback books just for me. Lovely L. M. Montgomery books that belong to me, all to me! Yes, today is a simply lovely, darling, wonderful day. I could just dance.

 I’m creating:

Spread all over our counter is dozens and dozens of dried flowers. Today I’m going to take those flowers and paste them to bookmarks. I came up with the loveliest way of making bookmarks. They turn out darling.

Also, on a creative strain, I have decided that one of my summer projects shall be to make a quilt. I’m quite excited about it. I’m going to go to the fabric store and buy up lovely fabric for a darling quilt and then I shall sew and it shall all be splendid.

 I’m listening to:

 ‘Bei Mir Bist Du Schon’ sung by the Andrews Sisters.

 From the kitchen:

 I just made two great big pitchers of ice tea. I believe one is strawberry and the other some blueberry mix. It just seemed the sort of day one needed a glass pitcher of ice tea to set out in the sun as one reads a lovely story out in the sunshine. It’s just that sort of day.

 I’m reading:

 “The Moving Finger” by Agatha Christie. (Yes, I want to go read it out in the sunshine right now.)

Also, I should be reading my assigned reading for the Christendom Summer program next week. There’s quite a lot of reading to do and I must get to it.

 I’m wearing:

 A white sundress, and before long I shall go hunt up my Audrey Hepburn hat and sunglasses, yes, yes I shall.

 Outside my window:

 It is a simply scrumptious day with lots of sunshine and white daisies all across the lawn. What I should very much like is to go and set up that purple chair and my ice tea and my books. Oh so many books to read! Out in the sunshine.

One of my favorite things:

 Lovely days like this one.

 Around the house:

 Well, I must admit my room happens to be a trifle messy at the moment but I shall go clean it before long and there we shall be!

 A few plans for the rest of the week:

Reading. (For fun and also the homework)

Sleeping.

Writing. (I need to get motivated to work on a new story. It’s been a week and I need some inspiration)

Doing crafty things.

Work.

 Quotes for the day:

 “I would rather be what God chose to make me than the most glorious creature that I could think of. For to have been thought about born in God’s thoughts and then made by God, is the dearest, grandest, most precious thing in all thinking.”

-George MacDonald

 Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there.

It doesn't matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.”
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

Taking a break from SAT study

Wednesday, May 30, 2012,

 I’m thinking:

 If I were to force the words they would not come right. If I were to write out my thoughts as they stand, they would present a sad and dismal sight; a few words, clinging to each other as I tried to turn them into an ensemble of more interest. How do I spark inspiration and motivation? One cannot simply turn them on as one would a lamp, how easy it would be if so. Can I write with no motivation to drive me forwards? Writing is not a manual task, not a task that one can accomplish like washing the dishes or cleaning the floor, to write one must be able to be full of interest and ideas. You can, of course, put the words into some sort of sentence easy enough. Meaningless, insipid sentences they would be too. For it is not the stringing of the words together that makes a writer a writer, but the thoughts behind them, and what if you have no thoughts? What can you do with a writer with no words, no thoughts, with a mind as blank as can be? Push them to write and they shall write all sorts of gibberish and nonsensical balderdash. The writer who is pushed to write cannot answer for the words that fall from their pen. Oh inspiration begins to peep out of the words, how easy they come once you are started! Just to continue, to continue to write and the thoughts begin to come though they are nonsensical ones.

 I’m listening to:

 The Frank Sinatra station on Pandora, and goodness gracious I’m in love! The Andrews Sisters, they just came on. I’m in love. Goodbye modern times! I am packing my bags and going back to sometime in the 1930’s. Did I say that I wanted to go back to a regency time period of Jane Austen? I am indeed a fickle creature! With only a faint sign of regret do I wave goodbye to my empire wasted dresses of dreams, to the cravats and to the mannerisms of that time. I am destined for the pre-World War II era. I’m not picky! Indeed not! I don’t mind if it isn’t exactly that time, just give or take a decade or two. You see? I’m not being demanding. I’d just like to be dressed in a nice collared dress, heels, a nice fashionable hat (the hats! We were meant to be, the hats and I). Oh yes! Goodbye modern times! I am off to dance while listening to the Andrews Sisters and Frank Sinatra.

I’m reading:

 Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell. If I weren’t so happy right now listening to music and writing away I should be longing for my book, for I only have a hundred pages left and I’m dying to finish. I’ve been reading almost nonstop for the past couple days and it is tortuous to be so close and not able to go off into a corner and just finish it up with a nice satisfied chomp and eat it into two bites. I stayed up horrendously late reading considering I got up at five thirty this morning and am most determined in my object of having a nice nap before I go to work.

 I’m creating:

 I just started writing a new story. I’m not quite sure where this one is going. I started with really just a sketch of a scene or two taking place at a grocery store, and I suppose I could really go anywhere with it. Isn’t that the best feeling? Knowing that you could take it anywhere from your beginning, it could go wherever you wished from there.

 I’m wearing:

 Black sweat pants, a cream blouse and a tan sweater over the top.

 A recent few quotes that inspired me:

 “This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals—sounds that say listen to this, it is important.” — Gary Provost

 “An inconvenience is an adventure wrongly considered.” G.K. Chesterton

 “A  good laugh and a long sleep are the best cures for anything.” –Irish Proverb

 Outside my window:

 Oh I do believe it’s a winds day! Well, not quite windy enough for a proper “Winds Day” but I am quite pleased with my Winnie the Pooh quote so I shall leave it there.

From the kitchen:

 Almost lunch time.

 A few plans for the rest of the week:

 Finish Gone With the Wind.

Listen to Frank Sinatra and the Andrews Sisters.
Study for SAT.
Take SAT.
Have mental breakdown from the strain.
Watch the film version of Gone with the Wind.
Write.
Go to work.
Shelve books.
Think many thoughts.
Sleep.
Lots and lots of sleep.

A picture thought I'm sharing:

Outside Today

I’m thinking…
I should like very much to say I am thinking thoughts of many great and deep subjects, thoughts worthy to be recorded in a fitting style for this journaling page, however, I don’t think I can. For, the thoughts that fill my mind are ones dwelling on the sunshine and the soft breezes that fill the air around me. My thoughts are focused on the bee that is going from daisy to daisy on the lawn and on the little mound of freshly mown grass that is piled up just across from me. Perhaps it should have been better if I had stayed inside to write this, yet the outside world was calling me and I obeyed.

Just now I am sitting with the laptop propped up on my knees while leaning against the wooden pillar on our porch. The sun is shining rather brightly so I have to squint to see any of the words appearing on the word document. I don’t really need to see them at all though; one doesn’t if one is simply writing and not bothering about editing till later. It doesn’t matter what words are leaping from your fingers to the page, you can worry about such things later, for now it is simply writing them that matters.

I love doing what would normally be considered “inside activities” outside. I have such lovely memories of reading different books outside on warm sunny days. I remember reading ‘The Magician’s Nephew’ for the first time outside on this porch. It was the middle of summer if I remember right and I had gathered up many pillows and blankets and made a nest of them, and then I settled down with a book that was almost as big as I was. It was a collection of all of the Narnia stories gathered up into one book.

I also enjoy writing outside, like I am doing now. There’s something so lovely about being able to type away as the wind blows your hair in your face and you can hear birds up in the trees and fish rippling the water of the pond for an instant as they momentarily come to the surface.

That’s the lovely thing about having a laptop; you can just pick it up and take it wherever with you. I know you could write with pen and paper but it slows you down so very much. When I write I want to be able to type away as fast as I can, to get caught up on the stream of words and not stop until you wish to pause and think about something new.

Those are the thoughts that I am thinking on this lovely spring day with the laptop propped up on my knees.

Outside my window…

 
Now, this is a peculiar situation, is it not? The “outside” of my window is what is usually considered the inside. That sounds rather like something from ‘Alice in Wonderland’ everything upside down and turned around. It sounds most strange to say “outside my window I see the dining room chairs and table” yet, that is so. Sitting outside looking in is rather amusing. It makes me think of ‘Peter Pan’ though, and how he was waiting outside his window to be let in and he never was. Such a sad thing to think about. The window he expected always to be open for him being closed and he shut out of his own home.
 
I’m wearing…
 
Black sweat pants, a flowered blouse, my sailing sweatshirt and my hair tossed up in a messy bun. Oh lovely Monday and I am staying home today!

I’m reading…

Now that is a rather complicated subject. I am reading quite a few books at one time right now. Which is bad of me, I should just pick one of them and stick to it, but these are all books I’m rather interested in and I want to read. To add to the books I mentioned last week in my journaling page I started reading the first few chapters of “The Great Gatsby” last night.

 Around the house….

 Now why should I want to be inside doing anything when I could be outside writing this? I am quite content and happy as can be sitting here so I shan’t mention anything inside that I would rather be doing, because there isn’t anything.

 From the kitchen…

Soon it shall be luncheon. Isn’t luncheon so much nicer sounding than simply “lunch”? Also, have you ever noticed how lunch rhymes with munch? Rather amusing come to think of it. It also reminds me of that scene in Lord of the Rings with Pippin and Merry pestering Aragon with their “second breakfasts’ and teas and suppers” There are so many different names for meal times come to think of it, but I don’t think any of us can compete with the amount of Hobbit mealtimes.

I’m listening to…

I have moved inside now, so I am listening to the sounds of spoons and bowls making contact, the phone ringing, chattering brothers and oven doors opening and closing.

 A few plans for the rest of the week…

       A.)   Sleep

B.)   Lots of sleep

C.)   More sleep

D.)   Reading

E.)   Writing

F.)    Drawing

G.)   Work

H.)   Sipping coffee and turning the page to my book

I.)     Naps

J.)    Enjoying the sunshine

K.)   Dancing around the house

L.)    Singing Disney songs that randomly come to my head

M.)   School

N.)   SAT study

O.)   Conversing with lovely dear people

P.)   More reading

Q.)   More drawing

R.)   More sleep

S.)   Thinking happy thoughts

T.)    Breathing

U.)   Seeing

V.)   Listening

W.)  Being

X.)   Playing my violin

Y.)    Seeing the beautiful

Z.)    Finishing this list.

Picture thoughts I'm sharing...

Okay, just so everybody knows...I WANT THIS!

THIS.

RIGHT HERE.

WOULDN'T THAT BE AMAZING?

I CAN'T EVEN SAY HOW THE IDEA EXCITES ME *prances*

Someday I have this frying pan and I keep it forever.

There's No Place Like Home

I’m thinking…

My thoughts are, at the moment, focused with some slight frustration at the header to this page. For some reason the font I have chosen isn’t looking right to me this morning. Which is quite ridiculous, I know. I often use this font without a thought of its uninteresting qualities. In fact, it is because it is the most uninteresting, staid, font that I choose it. Often having a rather boring font helps me to focus away from the appearance of the type to the actual words that I am typing. I am easily distracted, I know.

You ask why I am not instantly switching fonts if it is a feature of frustration to me? Well, you see, I’m trying to be a good little writer and not so easily distracted. I know that the instant I start critiquing the font I shall feel that the words I have thus far written are all wrong and that I should fiddle with commas and sentence flow and in the end I shall never get anything written at all.

I was thinking the other day of different places you could go to write; coffee shops and libraries and parks. I would rather like going to a coffee shop to write I think. There is something about the smell of coffee flouting around on the air that simply asks for words, words already written by someone, or words asking to be written down by you.

The funny thing about writing in places like those is that the attraction is also the drawback. What I mean of course is being out and about amongst people.

On the one hand there’s nothing that sparks inspiration so much as “people watching.” Just sitting in your chair watching the people go by, wondering who they are and what they are like. Story ideas just seem to come from nowhere and suddenly you are writing out thoughts that have been in the back of your mind for years and years but you’ve never yet put them into words.

Then again on the other hand there’s nothing so distracting. You think of those moments when you are trying to read, say in the library, and you desperately wish to get back to the lovely scene in your book, but you just can’t focus. That happens to me all of the time in the library. I end up sitting back in my chair and staring dazedly around the bookshelves thinking thoughts of great weight, or perhaps no weight at all.

I think, really, there is no place to write like home. No place where you can settle down properly with your inspiration and make something of it. My favorite place to write is of course, my bedroom. I will settle down on the chair in the corner or perched atop my bed and write wildly into the night. The hours slip by like minutes and the light fades from the room. My word document goes from a blank page with a few scattered words to a thing of several thousand words, and I go from being calm and happy to feverish and excited to sleepy and contented.

I suppose those other places are the places you go to when you are looking for inspiration, and home is the place you go to when you wish to make something of that inspiration.

In the end, there’s no place like home.

 

From the kitchen…

The coffee pot just gave its final noise, showing that it was turning off and the coffee was about to begin to grow cold. Of course I had to dash across the wood floor as quick as my feet could scamper to refill my red coffee cup with steaming coffee before it all grew cold. Law of nature, one must always do that when they hear the coffeepot alarm going off.

 
Outside my window…

The first thing my eyes settle upon as I glance out the window are the little baby daisies still all closed up in tight little buds. Is there a proper name for those daisies? I’ve always just called them the “baby daisies” they are the little ones with all of the small white petals just tipped with pink. I like them much  better than the big daisies that you see sometimes. My favorites are these little ones that cluster in the yard in little clumps. I love how they close up in the evening time and open up again as soon as the sunlight hits them. It’s so sweet, as if they are bidding you goodnight and then sleepily waking up in the morning. *beams* and yes, I did make up stories about the little daisy fairies when I was little.

 
I’m wearing…

 A deep blue peasant blouse with white beading all around the neckline, jeans, and black ballet flats.

 
I’m reading…

 I’ve just started reading ‘The Three Musketeers.’ I was going to start that one as soon as I finished reading the Sherlock Holmes but I was distracted by some fairytales by George MacDonald. I didn’t remember how absolutely funny his writing is from when I read it when I was much younger. I remember the ‘Light Princess’ always rather frightened me for some reason. I think it was how well I visualized the prince almost getting drowned and I was at a point close to tears, but dear me, his writing is just hilarious. I was stitches. I suppose it’s the sort of humor that a child doesn’t quite get at first and then when you read it years and years later you are just giggling and chortling with every sentence.

 Quotes that I like today…

 “Sometimes, I feel the past and the future pressing so hard on either side that there’s no room for the present at all.”

Brideshead Revisited- Evelyn Waugh

“It’s all very well to read about sorrows and imagine yourself living through them heroically, but it’s not so nice when you really have them, is it?”

Anne of Green Gables- L. M. Montgomery

 “Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different.”

-C. S. Lewis

Picture thoughts I’m sharing…