Writing one's first (actual) post on a new blog is highly intimidating. I can't decide what to say. I feel like a lot more happens in my life than I can capture in any sensible, creative way, to post here for others to enjoy. I suppose I could just start with a handful of thoughts.
1. I am very happy with springtime. We agree with one another. I have always loved seasons, relished in the changing world every three months (especially the dramatic change every six), and have been known to say that my favorite season is generally whichever one comes next. But there is something special and different about spring, and its segue into summer. Nothing beats the summer.
(Just wait, I'll be saying the same thing about the autumn, come September.)
2. I am also very happy that I do not have any real allergies, especially after learning that Knoxville is the #1 worst city to live in at this time of year. Oh, and Louisville was #2. I suppose it just follows me around. My apologies to everyone who has been affected by this.
3. Moving into a new house is way more fun, I think, when the house is small and out in the country, than a giant thing in the suburbs. Just to clarify: we are renting, not buying. The property we're moving to (including our landlords' house and their nine acres) is for sale, but we'd never be able to afford it, not for another 20 years at least. I'm sure I will have much more to say about this house, once we're really there. I had a blast this past week, just going by myself to exist there for a few hours at a time. It seems so much like a place you'd go to visit, and it's surreal to think of us actually living there.
4. I brought several boxes of things to the house the other day, and I found some very entertaining old journals of mine. I sat and read my old thoughts, laughing throughout. Some of these things made NO sense whatsoever. Some were leftover notes from classes and sermons. Some were from creative writing assignments about which I had completely forgotten. The last one I opened was from the summer of '07. It had a "Sliced Bacon" sticker on the front (remember those?). I opened it, and saw my first-ever musings of the short story (turned not-so-short story) I've been working on for months now. I SQUEALED. If Joshua had been there, he would have thought I'd gotten crawled on by a tarantula or something... except I was happy about it.
5. I love how writing something makes me feel like I've been reading a book. Several times in the past day or so, I've stopped and thought, Wait, what is it that I've been reading? before realizing that I haven't been reading anything at all (that I haven't written first), for weeks. This is not to say that what I've been writing is any good. I've been enjoying myself with it, but I doubt anyone else would take much interest. Also, it's one of those things that has been rolling around inside me for so long, I feel painfully nervous about it, and over-protective. It's that deformed, decomposing infant-mutant, gnawing at my ankles, that Dr. Malone used to talk about in class. The idea is that it won't let you alone until you fix it, give it a face and life. This, my professor used to say, is what creative writing is all about. Half of me wants to ask everyone I know, "Would you read something if I wrote it?" but the other half begs, "Please, don't look at it, just let me hold on to it. You won't like it, anyway."
5.a. One other thought about writing:
It seems to me that the more excited I get, the more inspiration/funny connections I see, everywhere. For instance, I'm writing about a valley, and then we found this house... which is in a valley. One of the characters is named Violet, and then I saw a small tub of violet fragranced balm at Earth To Old City, and, nerd that I am, took it as a sign (and bought it, of course. It smells very slightly of grape slushies). Then the actual violets came out, and I couldn't help but think of them as a sign, too, or at least a little pat on the back, a nod of approval, or a tug in the right direction.
But the wildest connection I saw was the trout lily. In the story, I had already written about a plant with a yellow flower that wouldn't bloom for seven years. On Easter Sunday, I discovered trout lilies, which have been around since the dawn of time, probably. I associated them immediately with the aforementioned plant in the story, based solely on appearance. Then, after researching, I learned that their yellow flowers don't bloom for the first seven years, either.
So, there's a little bit about me. I like spring. I like writing. I laugh at myself. I am easily excitable, especially concerning make-believe. I see meaning in a lot of meaningless things. I am insecure. I am trying to be more open. Just don't expect any masterpiece out of me, or for anything I ever write to be published, and I'll be okay. :)