award! sparkfest! ash to nash! finding peace! all the good stuff.

First of all, if you haven't taken a gander at the Harry Potter Zipline photos, please do. It really happened. You won't regret it.

Second-- and most important-- ly, here are some things that are going on:

1. We have moved our bed into the den. Pretty much everything from the bedroom, actually, has been moved. Some call this "packing," I call it "in-house camping." It's a mess, but it's also pretty fun to have a double bed, two couches, a coffee table, two bookshelves, a TV, and a small dining table with two chairs and a bench in one room (don't worry, it's an unusually large room).
1a. We're buying a new mattress and bed frame when we move. I can't wait to show you guys this bed. It's so odd. It has WHEELS. We're looking at a huge bookshelf with wheels, too. Good thing our new bedroom is tiled. Oh yes, tiled.

2. With the end of camp, I've been looking at my summer goals, again. The only ones that probably just aren't going to happen are to watch less TV and exercise daily. I know, I was doing so well. But!
2a. Even though I haven't gotten as much done as quickly as I would have liked this summer, I'm feeling pretty good about my writing. Have I gone through my entire rough draft yet? Well, no. But I have been doing a fair amount of planning and aligning events in my head and my notebook, which will hopefully help me figure out the direction of everything once I really get into revisions.

3. The lovely Deirdra at A Storybook World has given me an award! Just because! I am so thrilled. Seriously, you blog folks are awesome. I know I should say this more often, so I'll try to make up for it now:

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!

When I started blogging, I had no idea what I was getting into. All I knew was that I wanted to write, and I wanted others to read. I've noticed how some bloggers can cultivate huge followings in the span of months, and while that is awesome, I do not possess such skills. I am a networking sloth. I struggle with putting myself out there, I really do. So, again, THANK YOU. I am so encouraged.

So fun and pretty!
(Also, I'm relieved to know I'm not the only one being entertained, over here.)

4. Speaking of putting myself out there, I'm going to be participating in Christine Tyler's Sparkfest in a few weeks. Hooray! I hope you'll join me; blogfests are so much fun. And so is Christine's blog, The Writer Coaster. Let's show some love.

5. Have you guys heard about From Ash To Nash?                     (look there it is! -->)
Anyone outside of this area probably doesn't care, but as a resident of the East Tennessee/Western North Carolina region, this is thrilling. A book signing in Knoxville! Who'd'a thunk? And so, I will be there, at Union Ave. Books, next Sunday afternoon. If you are going to be there, too, please tell me! Especially if that means you also live in this area. Friends we shall be, I say.

6. Speaking of the East Tennessee/Western North Carolina region, an amazing thing happened at camp a few weeks ago: I stopped caring about being cast as an extra in The Hunger Games. A good move, on my part, because they never called me. :) Look at that, a smiley face. And you know why?
6a. There are so many wonderful things going on in my life, these days. Really. I have a wonderful husband, fantastic friends, two highly entertaining cats, and a whole world that exists solely in my imagination. I don't NEED to be in The Hunger Games to feel good about myself. That's what it was, for a while. I wanted to be a part of something that made me feel significant. I also wanted a chance to see Jennifer Lawrence again, I won't lie (that's not just a pipe dream-- I knew her {i.e. her brother} back in Louisville... for those of you who hadn't heard that a thousand times over, already). Also, since I'm being brutally honest about myself, I felt a bit... possessive of the story. As if The Hunger Games existed solely for me, and so OF COURSE they would let me be a part of it. I thought that if no one called me, it meant that I was not good enough for the story I loved, had no presence, was doomed to never act again. But the truth (or at least part of the truth)?

I don't live in the right state.

A crap-ton of people went to those casting calls, and most of them lived in the immediate area. I like to think that I'm not half-bad at the things I do, but I also knew I wasn't going make such an impression that the distance wouldn't matter. And that's okay. I don't regret going out for it. Now that I can look back without the butterflies or the gut-pounding high hopes, I see the day for what it was: a fun morning with friends and coffee and good conversation, a profound learning experience, and something I will always be able to say I did. What's not to love about that?

So, how's the beginning of August faring for you, my friends?

i make lists. and have revelations.

[First of all, holy cow is it beautiful outside today.  Today is not a stay-indoors-and-write day, it's a go-outside-and-read day.  Today is the sort of day that leaves your skin smelling like sunshine and dirt, even if you haven't been rolling around in either.  Dang.  Alas, I am indoors.  Why does my computer screen have to be so hard to read in natural light?  There's something wrong with that.]

Rory:  I'm not entirely sure what to do about you, Jess.
Let me put it in a list, and I'll get back to you.
(Not her brightest idea.  Or an actual quote.)

I am a list-maker.  Not necessarily in the Rory Gilmore, pros-and-cons way (though I do get like that sometimes), but more in the daydream-y way.  I sneak pieces of scrap paper to make tiny lists at work all the time.  I often want them to be about the story I'm writing, but that could get real embarrassing real fast (I cannot keep tabs on all my lists.  They have the propensity to fall on the floor and get discovered by my co-workers).  Usually, they are about my dreams and goals.  Sometimes, they're just things I'm thinking about.  An especially great one from this past Saturday was "Reasons Why Today is Awesome."  It included:

1.  Laughing with Christy (over the voicemail she'd left me in a Baltic accent- no wonder she's my friend).
2.  Signing with Chester (a deaf man who comes into Mast all the time).
3.  Meeting Jose (who used to interpret both ASL and Spanish in South Texas).
4.  High-fiving the guy who works at Lenny's.
5.  All the cute dogs!  (Mast is a pet-friendly establishment, and I love that.)
6.  Talking with Dani on the phone for an hour and a half (which happened before work, not during, in case you were concerned about my ethic).

Today, my list is of the to-do genre, and it looks like this:
1.  Apply to volunteer at this library I love so much (happening right now!).
2.  Do a lot of thinking about where I want to be in the next few months.

It's a concise one.  It's an exciting one.  God has been teaching me a lot about myself, and I feel like a door is opening somewhere, even though I can barely tell what shape it is.  This whole I-know-Katniss madness has pretty quickly deteriorated into a why-do-I-suck-so-bad? pity fest.  I mean, it kind of hurts.  It shouldn't, but it does.  I know that girl (and she's not the only one, either), and even if I am not remotely as talented, I still grew up with the same interests.  Dreams.  Passions.  And then I got scared.  I stepped back and let it go on without me because I never, ever, believed in myself enough to take any steps toward success.  And by success, I don't just mean playing Katniss in the Hunger Games movies.  Success for me would be, say, actually writing this book and then querying agents (which I never thought I would do).  Or, better yet, getting actively involved in a theatre group.  Why have I let that slide?  Did I really think that I would no longer enjoy acting after college?  Well... yeah, I did.  I did think that.  I remember coming to terms with myself over "not being in plays anymore."  Ridiculous.

The other night it finally dawned on me:  way to slap God in the face.  He made me to love theatre.  He made me to love writing.  He made me to love sign language and deaf culture.  He made me to love camping ministry.  And not just to love them, but to actually do them!  And by ignoring these things, I am the one who is missing out on what He has in store for me.  I used to be ashamed of the impracticality.  I used to think, Why do I thrive on things I will never be able to do?

Well, who am I to say that I'll never be able to do them?  Or that I won't just do them anyway, regardless of the success of others or my fear of failure?  Did God not shape all these desires in me on purpose?  (Yes!  Yes he did!)

And as I was pondering this the other night, it all came together:  words.  God has given me a gift (small though it may be) of using words.  Spoken, written, signed, and even those expressed by Him.

So, yes.  I have been scared.  I have stepped back.  I have never fully believed in myself.  I have been complacent in doing other things.  And you know what?  I'm done with that.  If you haven't noticed, I am a strong believer in the unfolding purposes of the Lord.  And some amazing things can really happen when I let myself get out of the way.  Friends, if you will hold me accountable to getting back into theatre, taking writing more seriously (because what if the Lord really does want that from me?), improving in ASL, and, most importantly, spending more time with my Bible, I will be grateful.

Who am I to ignore it?

[I still plan to write my completed work out by hand in journals and then hide them in the attic, though.  That won't change, even if I do get published.]

my funny motivations.

I guess I don't really mean ha-ha funny, here.  Sorry to disappoint the hopefuls.  I'm having a slight woe-is-me fest.  I'm not really sad about anything.  I just feel different.  I feel... unlike other people.  I have always, always felt this way.

In pondering this on the way home from work yesterday, my mind wandered to a story idea I've been toying with for the past month or so.  It's one of those sigh-inducing flights of fancy that may never see the light of day, but it sends me into mental giggles and I can't let it go.  And as I was rattling off all these imaginary things to myself, about imaginary people and imaginary events, I realized:  This sounds so weird.  I am a complete nut.  Because, it is (I am?).  It really very much is.  What makes it stranger is that it's not fantasy.  If I wrote this thing, it would be a contemporary story about some kids in a state of hyper-creative madness.  It wouldn't involve drugs, but it might make you feel like you'd been taking some (pure speculation, there, but one of my recurring ideas does involve a gigantic, pink afro wig) (maybe it would involve drugs).  I don't want to talk about it too much.  I only mention it because it got me to thinking:

Why do I like all the weird stuff?  I mean, has anyone seen The Science of Sleep?  A Life Less Ordinary?  Happy Accidents?  i heart huckabees?  These are some of my favorite movies, but I can't watch them with other people because it weirds them out.  Namely, my adoring and wonderful husband. He abounds in excellent qualities, but he'll pass on the weird movies, thank you.  So why do I love them so much?

I don't gravitate toward inherently weird music, but it's not very much like the stuff other people listen to.  My best friend from high school recently burned me a copy of Florence + The Machine, and I like it well enough, but I literally sighed with relief when I took that out and put The Wild Band of Snee back in.  The Wild Band of Snee, people.  It's a real thing (so, I do gravitate toward weird music, apparently).  Which, now that I think about it, is what instigated the story-daydream mentioned above.

But, you know what?  I love these things about myself.  So, I'm taking back the woe-is-me, and replacing it with heck-yes-is-me.  And, dangitall, I just realized how very Velvet Box-y I am being right now.  Not feeling like anyone understands me.  Being proud of it, anyway.  What was this post supposed to be about again?

Oh, right, how I feel so different.  I've established that I love this about myself.  But it does bring about some challenges.  Like, I don't really care about publishing anything right now, which probably makes every other writer out there think me defective, or "not a real writer."  Maybe I am defective.  But I am a writer (noun: one who writes stuff, i.e. me).  Is it so bad just to be writing because I enjoy it?  And, for the most part, the stuff that I write is so off-the-wall, I doubt it would really "sell."  So, what do I do?  Give up?

Psh.  Of course not.  This is what makes it fun.  If I want to write a crazy adventure set in an implausible world, I'm going to (and, uh, I am).  Does it have anything to do with all those hot paranormal creatures everyone's so a-gaga over?  Nope.  Is it romantic and kissy?  Not yet, and possibly not ever.  But who cares?!  It's fun and scary and intriguing (I like to think these things about my own work, but I could be entirely wrong, of course).  I'm having a good time.  And I have a few potential (or more than potential- yay!) crit partners who will hopefully enjoy it and be blessed by it and help me make it the fullest it can be, and then you know what?  You know what my greatest desire for this story would be (my w.i.p., not the crazy pink afro one)?  To write it out by hand in a series of gorgeous journals, along with illustrations by my grandmother, tuck them into an attic, and watch some grandchild discover them when I'm old.  This is my ultimate fantasy right now.

That makes me weird, right?  I still would love to be an author.  I've dreamed of it since I was ten.  Granted, I've also dreamed of being an actress, singing in a band, and running away to Greece.  But my passion is not in the title "author."  It's in the act of writing.

So that's what I'm going to do.  I read something today about how different people define success.  Success for me would be giving glory to God through this gift he gave me-- the gift of enjoying creativity.  If His plan involves more after that, wonderful.  If not, I'll keep writing the weird stuff and tuck them away in attics to my heart's desire.  And it'll be awesome.

So, friends, tell me.  What makes you weird?