Stories

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I don’t need this space as much these days.

I still have a dark and twisty streak running through my life.  I still need to pound my fists against someone and scream my emotions from the rooftops sometimes.  I am taking my pounding fists and screaming emotions to Jesus more.  It is more satisfying than bringing them to the internet.

Sometimes I read my Bible.  Sometimes I sit and stare at a candle flame for a few minutes.  Sometimes I write and write, with everything I used to say here — more, with no anxiety of what the reader will think or say.  Sometimes I cut and glue and doodle my emotions.

I have no desire for less emotion.  I like my strong emotions.  If I am too much — too happy, too sad, too silly, too serious — if I am too much for you, that is about you, not me.  I find that I need a safe space to go deep and wide with emotion and worrying about what the reader will think poisons that safety.

I don’t hope I will work the dark and twisty out; I don’t hope I’ll be unfailingly bright and shiny.  The dark and twisty has better lessons.  The bright and shiny is the result of those lessons.  Both are essential to my happiness.

This space is not my journal.  This space is my scrapbook.  This space is for pictures and stories that I want to remember and revisit.  It’s for me to talk about books and movies and TV shows and theater.  To talk about hikes and bike rides and adventures.  To talk about traveling and staying home.

This space is for me to record my life.

I hope to live a life worth recording.  It’s very easy to live many days in a row without noticing or creating anything worth showing off or writing about.  It’s sometimes hard to take the time to post the pictures and write about them.  But I think telling my stories is important.  I hope to do a little more story telling in this space.

The stories are happening, every day.  My life is good.

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