Did You Miss Me?

Greetings, loyal readers!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qWmEYq9oZxA

I hope there are some of you left, as I've been on hiatus for almost two whole weeks. This is clearly unacceptable, and I will be certain to provide you with quality content on a much more regular basis.

I'd like to think I have a legitimate excuse, though. I'm currently taking an interim course on writing that requires most of my creative energies. Essentially we choose a current or new writing project and focus heavily on it for the duration of the course. We do other exercises and such to improve our skills, but the main focus is on this project.

Now, I love writing. I really do. Whether it's fiction or nonfiction, for class or just for fun, I love fishing through the thoughts and ideas swirling around in my head and latching on to one, squeezing its essence and its life onto a page, refining it, polishing it, and bringing it to perfect completion.

And then immediately filing it away and never letting it see the light of day.

I hate letting others read my work. It freaks me out. I feel like I'm being evaluated. I can't even let people glance at my work over my shoulder. If you are privy to my writing process, you are a special individual indeed. The only reason I post this blog is because I know I will never have to be in the room while someone is reading it. I can hide safely behind a computer screen, unaware of whether people are even viewing it. It's a way for me to share without sharing.

People have told me I'm a good writer, and I believe them. Writing is my forte. But at the same time, it's not. I hate it and I'm terrified of it. Give me someone else's writing and I'll read that to whoever you want. But as soon as you ask me to use my own words, I lose it.

Needless to say, this class has been a struggle for me. I've had to read my writing to others on multiple occasions, when I'd rather choke on my eraser and die before letting anyone shed light on my work. It's one of the few things I will admit to being afraid of.

It's not the only thing I'm afraid of sharing sometimes. Even at a Christian campus, I can find it difficult to stand up for my faith. Whether it's a simple "I"m praying for you" or a louder "You're wrong. He's real and He loves you", I miss so many opportunities to share what it is I've claimed to profess for eighteen years. And in doing so, I lose that faith myself. What's the point of believing something if you don't practice it.

And the sad thing, there isn't a doubt in my mind that it's all real. I've experienced God firsthand, and I still can't even bring myself to tell that story. Why am I scared to share something I'm proud of?

So as I go into a new semester here at Trinity Christian College, I'm refocusing. I'm done being part of the backdrop. I'm going to start living like I really mean what it is I believe. And if I burn because of it, then so be it.

I'm also going to go get the mail. Mom's been bugging me about it. Sorry, Mom.

Song for today: Up In Flames by Icon For Hire. They're the kind of perfect Christian band that openly professes their mission and still reaches a widespread audience by making their music accessible to those outside the faith. They get what it means to seek the Lord and bless the world.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CzNs4_wutG0

Well, I'm off to go write! Ah, it's good to be back.

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.