My sister's blog talks about a book she is reading about writing. I think I will get it. Here's a list of rules for a writing exercise:
1. You can't stop
2. You can't cross out
3. Don't worry about punctuation or grammar
4. You must lose control
5. You must not be logical
6. If something comes to you in writing that scares you, you must dive right into it.
Well, in that case... I cleaned my church a little bit yesterday, because our awesome janitor is on vacation. There is something scary about being in an empty building that is usually full of people. I wanted to sing so badly, but I wasn't sure if my pastor was studying in his office. Then I also wasn't sure if he was taking a big dump when I went to do the trash in the men's bathroom... so imagine my awkwardness as I knock on the men's bathroom door in a dark hallway, humming quietly, hoping that they don't watch the security cameras. And also, I don't know how to open a baby gate. The security cameras definitely got that one. I laughed to myself and hiked my pregnant leg over the damn gate after staring at it, then jiggling it for a good 47 seconds.
I ordered my new gauges from Etsy. I can't wait. Everything that I find and love on Etsy ends up being shipped from another country - my headbands are from Australia, my nose ring is from Israel, and these gauges (custom made, yo) are from Canada.
The other night at a friends, we talked about "image management," and how we're always attempting to appear a certain way. It's so true. I appreciate, and perhaps idolize, a certain type of person. I want to be "this" type of person, so I dress that way and adopt lifestyle patterns that match who/what I want to be like. I buy into it. Someone said the other day that on Facebook, we only put the good stuff. I disagreed though. People definitely put the bad stuff too, because a lot of times we find our identity in our crisis or our current state. Imagine this: literally every time I speak to a person and ask what they did over the weekend or how their day has been, they say "Oh, well I have insomnia, so, I didn't do anything," or, "well, I have insomnia so it's been a bad such-and-such." Number one, I know you have insomnia because you've told me 17 times. Number two, don't define yourself by your ailments. THAT IS SO HARD. I know it is. But sometimes we hold on so tightly to the bad stuff going on that it becomes a part of us and that's why it won't get better (not always. I know that our thoughts can't cure cancer - but I do think there is something to say for positivity and quality of life). I think eventually we get to the point where we don't want to give up our shit because then, what would we talk about? Who are we when we're not complaining/bragging about how busy we are? Who am I when I'm just quiet for a second, and not trying to appear a certain way? What's my excuse for not making changes?
At the same time, God created us different. And we are humans. We complain. We hurt, and we shouldn't keep it all in. I'm always looking for that balance, and as you can see from this blog I swing really high in both directions every other day, or few hours.
But, I just "dove into it," (dived?) as the rule commanded me, and when I do that I tend to offend people, mostly because I see things from my perspective, which is based on my circumstances usually. But, I love seeing things from other people's perspective when they're shared with me and going, "Oh wow, yeah. I haven't thought of that before." But then seeing too that we can both learn from each other and grow. How nice. Growth. I love it.
PS. I want this cute baby out of me. Tyler said yesterday, "I want that baby out! So it can be right here!" and patted his chest. I just need to say that I am so grateful and honored to be married to a guy that is so excited to meet our kid. He told me I wasn't allowed to tell people this anymore... so here it goes! When he sleeps, he turns into a seven year old boy. He says things in his sleep all night long, with great emotion and zeal, like "Shan, you are my BEST friend in the whole world! I love you so much," (it's a whisper yell) and tells me I'm his favorite, that I'm the most beautiful girl in the world, etc. It's hilarious and I laugh a lot. Well, earlier this week in the middle of the night, he put his hand on my belly and said, "Uuuugghh, I love this baby so much." So sweet. Puke if you want.