“Being still and doing nothing are two very different things.”
Being still is having confidence that God is in control of all life’s circumstances.
Doing nothing is the depression of circumstances outside of your control.
Being still is walking on from hardship knowing you have grown.
Doing nothing is letting your hardships cripple and overwhelm you.
Being still is listening as wisdom guides you on when to speak and when to keep silent.
Doing nothing is deafness to any council .
Stillness is a time of healing and recovery.
Nothing is a time of emptiness and worry.
Stillness is a conscious decision to wait.
Nothing is a missed opportunity to act.
Stillness moves on.
Nothing stands still.
Oh by the way, the quote at the beginning was a Jackie Chan quote. It was from the 2010 Karate Kid.
So recently, a friend of mine, from Twirling in the Rain, reminded me that she had a blog, which, in turn, reminded me that I have a blog. It has not yet been a full year since my last post, so I don’t feel too bad. But anyway.
The impetus for this post is a poorly timed coffee, the insomnia brought on as a result, my very nature, and my whirling thoughts.
I’ve said before that I’m an all-or-nothing sort of person. Either my life is completely falling apart or it’s completely put together. Right now it’s on the “completely put together” end of the spectrum, which includes picking up the things I’ve neglected for way too long (i.e., my blog). But in putting my life back together, I feel as if I tried to take off running without realizing that I’ve had my feet tied down—like in a slapstick comedy where the hapless hero or bad guy falls flat on his face.
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Nothing is more inspiring than the sky on a cold, clear night.
A while ago, my brother commented on my Facebook that he’d love to read my “musings,” but they were too long. This is for my brother, a musing just for him, as short as I can keep it:
Never hold a cat when a vacuum turns on.
So I have this theory that if I were to type for an extended period of time without using punctuation or spaces or anything that it would gradually make me more and more hyper especially since we kind of use punctuation to give ourselves pauses and to give us a place to breathe but an extension of this experiment isn’t just to see if it’ll make me hyper but also to see if it’ll make the reader hyper I mean what would happen and don’t get me started on typingwithoutspaceswhichisreallyhard when you think about it because my fingers sort of automatically go for the space bar when I’m finished with the word and it’s kind of the same way with periods and commas and question marks and exclamation marks and by now you’re just thinking that I need to stop because you need to breathe which is really weird because you’re just reading this in your brain and your brain doesn’t need to breathe but it kind of feels like you’re about to hyperventilate because I’m not stopping how long can she keep this up no this needs to stop I bet I can keep going like this forever it’s just free writing after all and writing whatever comes into my head and you just thought about paragraph breaks because don’t I normally break my paragraphs up a lot smaller than this but it just keeps going and please make it stop what if I just decided tonotdospacesanymorefortherestofthispostyou’dprobablygetreallyannoyedwithme ok I’ll stop that now because my brain can’t handle it anymore are you hyper yet I kind of feel hyper and my breathing has noticeably quickened and I kind of feel awake and alive hey maybe I should do this every time the weekday afternoon drudge hits and I know you know what I’m talking about because it’s that moment you have every day when you just can’t seem to function anymore and you just need a nap or a cliff and you’d kind of like to take a nap but you’d also kind of like to jump off the cliff and it happens every day between 2 and 3 o’clock and it’s absolutely horrible except it never really seems to happen on Friday maybe that’s because I usually go home around 2 or 3 on Fridays and I’m so close to going home that the drudge time doesn’t really hit me that hard and I can’t tell if this experiment has worked yet because I can’t see your faces while you’re reading but what would happen if I’ve gone on and on and on and on and on and on and on like this forever like for five hundred words or more and all of a sudden with no explanation and no punctuation whatsoever besides apostrophes because we can’t live without apostrophes because they make possessives and contractions and I’m not going around saying I am and cannot and whatever and saying the bone of the dog instead of the dog’s bone because that’s just too wordy anyway what if after going on and on for all that time I just stopped
Recently I wound up changing desks at work. One of my co-workers transferred to a different department, and I’ve always liked the placement (and space) of her desk, so I asked if I could move.
It wasn’t a big move. My new desk is just a few feet from my old one, and it took me only about half-an-hour to get all my things moved from my old desk to my new desk (much of this time taken up by taking my computer apart and setting it back up again, and moving all my magnet words from one desk to the other).
And yet I was very excited to come to work on the day that I moved and every day since, but I couldn’t put my finger on why I got so excited. I think I’ve figured it out now.
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I’m going to suggest a completely absurd thought about writing, here. You might unfollow me for this and say that I’m no real writer.
But have you ever considered the absurd notion that what you wrote might just be absolutely fine the first time? That maybe, just maybe, writing doesn’t need to always be this arduous process of endless writing and re-writing and slaving over several versions of the same piece and trying to decide which one is best?
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I like groups of two. Just myself and another person. I’m most comfortable in these kinds of settings, especially with a person who doesn’t need conversation at all times. I don’t mind larger groups when I know everyone in the group, especially if we all know each other well. Each group number has its own benefits and negatives. Usually with larger groups in which I know everyone fairly well, I can find a balance. I either let everyone else talk and listen or talk to whoever’s nearest me.
But the worst group setting is three. Three is a horrible number. Again, it’s not so bad if all three know each other. But one person I know and a friend of that person I know absolutely nothing about in some kind of sustained social interaction? Horror of horrors! Abort! Abort! This is not ok!
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This is kind of a no brainer, but it’s something I realized from an incredibly awkward and ridiculous situation that I experienced last week.
Now, on a normal day, none of this would have happened. It only happened because a set of things that don’t usually happen happened all at the same time (isn’t that the way of things?). I woke up late on Friday. Not so late that I was already late for work, but late enough that I needed to hurry in order to arrive on time. So I skipped breakfast. Now, my dermatologist has me taking an antibiotic for acne. I’m supposed to take it with food (the pharmacist says not to take it near dairy, but the dermatologist told me to ignore the pharmacist, so…), and I normally take it right as I’m leaving for work after I’ve had my bowl of cereal. Friday, I skipped breakfast, but didn’t skip my pill. I had a bag of almonds at work which I was planning on munching on as soon as I got to work.
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I love playing the game, “If you were a literary character, who would you be?” Sometimes when I think about it, I get the same feeling as I do when I give gifts. That feeling of, “Ah yes, this comparison is IT,” and until I get that feeling, I keep thinking, “Eeeehhhh.. that’s not it.”
So a few friends of mine and I started talking about it. The Risable Rambler started it, and then the Dinky Bird and Me and another friend and I got into it. We shortly all agreed that Risabella is Jo March from Little Women. After much discussion, we eventually concluded that our other friend was Miranda from The Tempest (after considering Kanga from Winnie the Pooh, Eowyn from Lord of the Rings, Viola from Twelfth Night, amongst others), and I insisted that Dinky Bird and Me is either Marianne Dashwood from Sense and Sensibility or Lizzie Bennett from Pride and Prejudice. I’m thinking Marianne just works for her (the other choices for her are Galadriel and Eowyn from Lord of the Rings, or Jane Eyre).
Who did they insist I am?
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