Achiever Meets Creative

This morning I woke up in a large, comfortable home with my family. Enveloped in a forest of green, without a doubt that I could feast on whatever food would be found in the fridge while tasting luscious liquid gold pour down my throat - and not just any liquid gold, but the very best, most coveted kind in the Indianapolis region. I didn't have to rise early to work hard to provide anything for anyone. I used the restroom, flushed the toilet, turned the faucet on, and washed my hands with soap. I actually stopped writing this post several days ago and am just now coming back to it - although maybe it's not a good time. I am feeling sad. Really sad. Like heavy-hearted, no good kind of emotion sad. Stop - let me find another word for my underlying current emotion... distressed. I think that's the word. I feel out of touch with who I am, out of touch with who God is, out of touch with. my priorities, dreams, hopes, and out of touch with service in general. I want so desperatel...

Humanity.  Artistically designed, a God-formed thought that he initiated into existence, just like a mother bears her child. Humanity has forgotten her origin; an origin of love and peace and dominion over animals and other things but not over each other. Humanity bears the burden she herself created; tears upon tears, clenched fists nailing bleeding faces, slapping crying mothers. Humanity's mother made her child to be beautiful and brave and to depend on each other. Her mother is a rainbow, made up of each color; her mother is light, bright light that pierces darkness. The child, humanity, formed to represent the image of her mother, just like babies grow up to look like their parents, act like their parents, talk like their parents. Formed under the weighty glory of holiness and pure beauty, made to dazzle her mother. Made to walk barefoot, live naked - not as an act of sensuality but rather as the absence of shame. Humanity's mother is not like her child, who wanders away. ...

This is my first blog post. I have a slight idea of what I'd like to do, but honestly, it's underdeveloped. I don't want to wait to write a blog until I have it all figured out either. This is a space for me to unravel my thoughts in my head. Nobody knows it's here, nobody knows its purpose or anything else for that matter. My desire is to have a blank space to write almost daily, where I can capture thoughts, ideas, dreams, and form paragraphs made up by fancy-ish words that help me articulate the deeper things in my soul that I haven't learned to express in speech or even in deed; no, instead they remain stuck in my head and nobody ever hears about them. Why? I think the basis of it is fear. Fear that they'll think I'm crazy, weird, or jerk their elbows back in victorious motion, delighting that their assumption at my being homeschooled (and thus implying oddities within my persona that I could be self-conscious of) was indeed accurate and that I merely mo...