(no subject)
I worked 8 hours everyday this week. (It's exhausting. But I know it will get better with time.)
I started reading a book I've been dying to get to: Dark Triumph by Robin LaFevers. It's the second book in the His Heir Assassins series. I mean, how can you NOT love a series that has nuns, who train the heirs of Death to be assassins?
I plan to go to church for the first time in 8 weeks. (I've been watching the services on line.)
So You Think You Can Dance had some really good dances this week. I find myself debating between two for the top spot in my heart. I'm going to go with . . . (Yes, they are blindfolded. The dance is about how love is blind.)
Yep, some more writing on Whispers. I worked on my little ghost stories three days. Read . . .
This is worse.
This is personal.
The elevator stops, and I take a deep breath. It’s hard to believe that less than two minutes ago, I thought this was a good idea but now . . .
The door glides open and I clench my fist, fighting the urge to push the down button. I know I need to talk to Dad. Every fiber in my being vibrates with the need to talk to him. The uncertainty of what to say keeps my tongue heavy and thick in my mouth. This is so not like me. I’m usually the first and last person to speak . . . unless Dad’s around. And I typically know what to say and how to say it. Come on! I convince the dead that the light (or dark) is better than here. I can handle this.
But that’s just it.
It’s never been about me; it’s never been personal.
What happened . . . in my house . . . to me . . . to Mom . . .
I feel like someone abducted me and dumped me in the middle of the desert at high noon. I don’t know how to trudge through this landscape of no words.
I take a deep breath. Just do it.
I step forward.
Hugs & Encouragement and DFTBA...
I started reading a book I've been dying to get to: Dark Triumph by Robin LaFevers. It's the second book in the His Heir Assassins series. I mean, how can you NOT love a series that has nuns, who train the heirs of Death to be assassins?
I plan to go to church for the first time in 8 weeks. (I've been watching the services on line.)
So You Think You Can Dance had some really good dances this week. I find myself debating between two for the top spot in my heart. I'm going to go with . . . (Yes, they are blindfolded. The dance is about how love is blind.)
Click to viewYep, some more writing on Whispers. I worked on my little ghost stories three days. Read . . .
This is worse.
This is personal.
The elevator stops, and I take a deep breath. It’s hard to believe that less than two minutes ago, I thought this was a good idea but now . . .
The door glides open and I clench my fist, fighting the urge to push the down button. I know I need to talk to Dad. Every fiber in my being vibrates with the need to talk to him. The uncertainty of what to say keeps my tongue heavy and thick in my mouth. This is so not like me. I’m usually the first and last person to speak . . . unless Dad’s around. And I typically know what to say and how to say it. Come on! I convince the dead that the light (or dark) is better than here. I can handle this.
But that’s just it.
It’s never been about me; it’s never been personal.
What happened . . . in my house . . . to me . . . to Mom . . .
I feel like someone abducted me and dumped me in the middle of the desert at high noon. I don’t know how to trudge through this landscape of no words.
I take a deep breath. Just do it.
I step forward.
Hugs & Encouragement and DFTBA...