So, it's been awhile. I guess I wish I
knew what to say but it's not easy to catch my thoughts anymore.
College has everything turning so quickly but not in the way that it
feels like it's slipping from my hands and out of control, more like
at a constant speed; fast enough to feel progression but slow enough
to enjoy the world that sliding by.
I wish I had more to say than “It's
been fun” or “Loving it” but those two, quick phrases seem to
summarize everything (though, I'd throw in a few select Tweets and
maybe some facebook pictures) but there's something missing. I didn't
think that anything was wrong; there was too much going right. But,
recently, I finished a rough draft of my first novel—something I'd
been trying to accomplish for a great many years now—but when I did
it, I felt a little sigh of relief but after that...nothing.
Something was most definitely missing. At first, I thought that it
might be faith, but a week told me that I was far more comfortable
with my faith now than I've ever been in my life. And another week
had me wondering if I'd made the right decision, however it took less
then a day to throw out that theory.
Then, probably as predicted, I looked
back at some old photos and realized that I was missing art. Writing
is art, but it's colorless—it's static. Words don't come to life
until they've been twisted and bent; photos come to life with a
different kind of effort. They come to life after a deep breath and a
furrowed brow, they come to life after staring at the same tree for
an hour, they come to life in the biting winds of winter and edge of
a storm, they come to life through vulnerability and pain.
Photography is the immediate release that writing struggles to be.
On a whim, I renewed my account on
Flickr. I don't know what that means. I've given up on crossing
fingers, but I have a little faith.
I've been struggling lately with
things that I thought had passed and my mind isn't half as strong as
it ought to be; I can feel it decaying as ideas fade without a second
glance. So, I'm reverting again, falling back on the same risk of
pressing the shutter. I don't always trust it, but I have no reason
not to try because I need something to hold me up again.
As a side note, no matter how I
fall—I'll never be anything but thankful.
