My Passion

What is it about writing that I love so much? This is a question I’m still trying to answer. I do not think (in fact I know) that there is not just one simple explanation. Writing comes easy for me. I always thought that it was easy for everyone, but the more I tune in and listen to what others are saying, I hear so many complaints about this art form. About how horrible writing is, how hard it is to express what you are trying to say, how frustrated people get with it. That is when I discovered that I was different than others. When I was a kid I kept a journal. Maybe that doesn’t sound that strange, but I really loved to do it. Once in 8^th grade I discovered that I really enjoyed writing, but never thought of it as an art form, just as an easy class in school. I really think that that feeling had a lot to do with where I was going to church. Crazy as it sounds, its true. Church has always been a huge part of my life. Where I was then, North Asheville Baptist, was a good place, in my mind. I looked forward to Sundays and Wednesdays. I had lots of friends. All was well in the world. Art was never something they majored on, but it was, at least how I saw it, very defined. If you could draw, you were an artist. If you could paint, you were an artist. If you could play an instrument, you were a musician. If you created on the computer, you were a geek. All of these were valuable traits. In my last few years there, we had a new youth pastor named Tim. He replaced our old pastor, James. James was an amazing guy who totally turned me on to devotions, quite times, and growing in God. Tim, on the other hand, vexed me from the very beginning. It was not just the fact that he took James place that bothered me. I was in high school when he came into my world. I have always been very independent and had my opinions on things. I am not one of those “don’t bother me with the facts” kinds of people, but I’m not easily swayed either. Tim presented ideas that I didn’t really agree with. We “didn’t see eye to eye” on a lot of things. He took the joy out of youth group, and also the growth. But he did focus a lot on our (the youths) individual talents. If you were an artist as defined above, you were a valuable addition to the youth group. If you did not fall into any of those categories, you were only good for bringing new people into youth. This offended me very much. Yes, I did fall into the category of “geek,” and I offered to help with the website and stuff, but I was handed a pink slip before I even began for someone better had been found. Eh, fine by me. In another attempt to be helpful, I made this offer: “Hey Tim! Um, you were talking tonight about using our talents for the Lord and for this youth ministry, and um, I’m sort of a writer and would love to do some writing for youth, be it for the website or flyers or whatever!” He just kind of looked at me and said, “A writer? Yeah, um, go talk to Steve. Wait, you can’t draw, can you?” “Um, no, sorry.” “Yeah, uh huh… thanks.” Then moved on. Whoa! Dude! That day is when I stopped writing. That may sound very silly, but the fact is, the person who was supposed to care about us teens the most very clearly, by the tone of his voice, the look on his face and the words that he spoke, said that my “gift” is useless. I went home and tried to learn to draw. HAH! That was a laugh. I’m just not someone who can draw. I paint with words, but that obviously was not valuable. So, as I said, I quit. I did not write, except for the occasional journal entry, for nearly a year and a half. I did not pursue it or see it as valuable. I never liked Tim. He crushed me without a second thought. Some may say that it was not intentional, but such things happened numerous times. I was just another kid he had to watch. I was not a person worth having in the group. I had no gift. He made that very clear to me time and time again. One day my family switched churches. We started going to Grace Community Church, a church that really focused on the arts. I went with my dad to an “artist meeting” one Monday night. The writing team wasn’t there, so I got to hang with the drama folks. They gave me a book (yes, for free ^_^) about how all forms of art, be it dance, drama, drawing, painting, computer arts, singing, music, and yes, even writing, are gifts from God. It talked about how there is really no “Christian” and “Non-Christian” art because anything that comes from a place of creativity is from God. A novel concept, yes indeed. The first words of the Bible are “In the beginning, God created.” WHOA! For the first time really in my life I felt like an artist. I had always dreamed of being an artist, but I couldn’t draw, so that dream was shattered. My spirits soared to heights I didn’t think possible. After about six months of attending Grace, I started going to the youth group. They had just gotten a new youth pastor named Brian. What a cool guy! He was fun, creative, silly and totally in touch with God. He never made me feel invaluable, but rather, as a necessity to the group. He called me “a blessing.” I had forgotten what it felt like to belong to a group like that. I have, in the last year, taken off with my writings, thanks to Craig and the arts team, my dad and Brian. So, the original question at the top of this paper like thing was “what is it about writing that I love so much?” As this last huge section of my paper has showed, I love to write because it is my art. It helps define who I am. It is a gift from God and born of pure passion. It helps me see my world in a different light and express that which I could express no other way. I can capture moments and feelings in a bottle forever. It has also taught me not to let others determine who I am or how valuable I am. That is not for them to decide. God determines my value and I have been given the potential to live it out, if only I will. That is why I love to write.

Never Forgotten

Some people come into our lives and leave with the same ease. Low impact and few memories. But some people enter our lives and shake the ground we stand on, help form who we become. Distance can be a cruel thing, separating one person from another. Promises to keep in touch are made, but are so easily broken. Both people get busy, trying to keep up with life, and the person we so treasured becomes just a name in an address book. I am guilty of this horrible crime; guilty of being to busy for those who mattered so much. To those who have, for so long been lost in time, this is for you.

Nathan, Kat, Zak, Lila, Jennifer, Mandy, Carlyn, Dave, Nate, John, Elizabeth, Ann, Anna, and I’m sure many, many others, I’m sorry for putting other things before you. You have made such a difference in who I am. You supported me when I ran for “class president,” laughed with me over jars of peanut butter, were there for me when I was crying (even when that meant leaving your date). We worshiped together while standing on our binders, wrote that bloody college paper together while everyone else was out swimming, and asked random (very cute) strangers for directions when we couldn’t find our dorm. Long conversations about love and life over hot coffee as you protected me from the mall freak linger in my memory. You are my hero. Horrible cafeteria food and stories about being orange colour-blind bring smiles to my face. We were Laughing (and nearly crying) as I dumped water out of my computer that rainy afternoon. I will always remember your doodles and drawings, your obsessive need to beat me to breakfast, your amazing smile (and annoying brother), comic book conversations, rafting, roses, wonderful Chick-fil-a stories, listing to you play your guitar and the tears shed upon saying goodbye. I love you! You will never be forgotten.

Knights and Fair Maidens

So many beautiful stories of knights and fair maidens have been inscribed upon the hearts and memories of generations. Why does everyone love such stories? Stories of jousting and princesses, love and hate, betrayal and loyalty, rich and poor, desire and duty, good and evil, witches and faeries, and glass slippers and golden crowns. I propose that the reason we are drawn to such stories is because in some way or another, we all relate to them. I know that I love fairytales. Probably because I wish my life were more like one. The thing is, if I look closely at my life, there are so many similarities! We all live in a fairytale if we just have the imagination to see it. Yes, you have to look at your world a bit differently, but we all are in the midst of an epic story worthy of being handed down from generation to generation. I am looking forward to reading my book, for I do not know what part I play. I’m sure you think I’m a nut job now, but please hang with me. So often I am off to the rescue of someone, like a knight in shining armor. Occasionally I find myself in the midst of a great duel, fighting to the death over what I believe in. As for the aspect of love and of hate, I bear my share of both. So many wonderful people in my life, people whom I love more than my morning coffee. A few people who I wish would prick their finger on the magic spinning wheel and fall into a horrible, deep sleep. I am forever with an empty wallet, and at the same time, volunteering to help others. There is always the aspect of desire versus duty. This is the basis upon which most stories are founded. Someone, be it a prince or a princess or a poor stable boy, wants one thing for their life, but are bound to something else. Which to follow? Their heart or their duty? Should the beautiful princess run away from that which she is entitled to do and marry the love of her life who is not of royal blood, or should she marry the man she has been given to for the good of her kingdom? Oh, Romeo! So who am I? The brave knight off to save the world? The beggar in the streets? The court jester? The royal servant? The evil sorcerer? The kind and beloved ruler? The maiden trapped high in her tower waiting for her Prince Charming to rescue her? I don’t know. We’ll just have to see, won’t we?

Saturday, May 21 2005

I slept well last night for the first time in a few weeks. I had forgotten what a wonderful feeling it is to wake up in the morning rested and refreshed. I don't remember last nights dreams. I hurt a lot this morning. More than usual. I'm just waiting for my pain meds to kick in. Darbacet is a strange thing. It works very well, kills pain like no other. As it was explained to me, "it kills the pain by scrambeling the signals in the brain." Cool, huh? Its odd though because I can feel it. It's a strange sensation, like being on a rollercoaster that almost makes you sick but jerks you back just in time.

Dad's teaching me how to care for my African Violets. I have two of them, a purple one and a white and purple one. I love them dearly. They are so beautiful!

I was planning on going to this festivalish thing today. Several of my friends are going to be there; some working and some just chilling. Lisa, my kid sister, is singing there. I really wanted to go, but I woke up this morning in very great apin, therefore I am staying home resting. But, yeah. I was really looking foward to seeing my friends. I don't see much of them any more. Not since I changed churches. See, they still go to North Asheville and (obviously) I do not. So unless other arrangments are made, I don't see them any more. I try to act like it doesn't bother me much. I've made new friends down at Grace. I don't really miss North Asheville. Well, yeah, but new friends don't replace old friends. They can't. Now, don't get me wrong... I love my new friends at Grace with all my heart and I would never give them up, but I still miss my North Asheville gang. Like I said, I try not to let it show that it bothers me. There's nothing I can do about it, so I may as well be happy. I am not switching youth groups again. No way! For me personally and for where I am spiritually, Grace is totally where I need to be. I am just sad when I have to miss things like today when I would get to see me clan. Oh well, no use in complaining. I am much to blessed for that.

It's a perfect May day. It's warm outside, the sun is shinning, a breeze is blowing through the Birch leaves, it's just wonderful! Dad's working in the garden planting all sorts of beautiful things. How I long to be out there helping him. "Not in your condition" says doctors and parents. Oh well... soon. The roses, hibiscus, rhoderdendron, Mexican Heather, Gerber dasies and so many others are in full bloom. I think I shall go take some photographs.

Friday, May 20 2005

My room is cluttered with notebooks and journals. I'm glad though, because I am forever misplacing my notebooks. Like now, for example. I am writing in this lovely composition book for I seem to have left my little green notebook-journal downstairs somewhere. Whenever someone finds a journal laying about, they automatically assume it ismine. That is actually probably a really accurate guess most of the time. I really need to get a laptop. Nothin' fancy, just a good word processor and a media player. It could live on my desk in my room. It would be really helpful when I want to write but am not sitting at my desktop. I write really slowly but type really fast. Dad says he might get me a laptop in support of my writing. That would rock somethin' wicked.

Kristen and Millie came over today and hung out for a few hours. Lol, we were all totally out of it. We just slouced on my couch and fed my dog chips. Despite us all being zombies I had a great time just chillin' with my girls. Kristen, if you are reading this, thanks so much for crashin' over here today. You have no idea how much that meant. I look foward to seein' ya Sunday.

I went to The Gathering at North Point tonight. Twas fun. I was thrilled to just get out of my house and drive myself somewhere. I really enjoyed myself, even though I always feel like an outsider... a reject... when I'm around them. Not a fun feeling. But I did get to see my dear Emily, which made it all worth while. We hang out together. I think she feels much the same way as I do. I mean, for crying out loud, we sat at a table alone during dinner. But, then again, we normally do. Anyhow, music was beyond amazing, as it always is. That is one of my favourite things about North Point. Music really speaks to me, and they play amazing songs, and play them very well. Man! Anyhow, there was a "guest speaker" tonight. Youth pastor from some other youth group. He spoke for a while and had some really good points, but he got me very lost and confused. Oh well, good evening.

Midnight was lovely tonight. More beautiful than normal. I was letting one of my dogs, Mindy, out for the night when I noticed my yard and patio were flooded... saturated with an eerie pale light. Barefooted and fearless, I waded bravely into the magical light. It rushed upon me, seizing me and holding me captive. The moon, not quite full, reflected on the Koi pond, the Japanese Maple casting strange shadows upon it. Long layerd clouds hugging the horizon glowed odd shades of purple. A few sleepy stars poked out from between the clouds. Take away my breath. I've never seen anything so marvelous. Standing there, captivated, like in a dream, I found myself wishing for the strangest thing... someone special to share the moment with. How silly

I Am Fine

I hurt so badly!
Every time I move it's like fire ripping through me.
So many tears.
I'm running out of places to hide them all.
I've been hurting so long that people are tired of hearing about it.
Tired of hearing "the same ol' thing."
They are ready for me to get on with my life
so I can stop inconveniencing them.
I'm sorry!!
I would feel better if I could!
Really, I would!
I would just *poof!* make all my pains and problems
Disapear if I were able, but I can't.
I can't perform such a miralce,
So a lie will have to suffice.
"I am fine."

Mothers Day Tribute

Mom - A tribute

I don't really know how to write a tribute
I've never done it before.
So I guess I'll do what I always do
When I create
And turn off my brain and just
Write from my heart

Mom, you are amazing
Beautiful and wonderful
Loving and caring
But anyone could say
Such lovely words
What make mine special?

There is meaning behind
Those words
A depth far beyond
That of a Hallmark card
A truth that has been inscribed
From a place of love

You are amazing
In your patience and grace
You are beautiful
In the way you love your Lord
You are wonderful
In the way you smile

You are loving
To your bratty, annoying kids
You are caring
In all the little things...
The way you hold Zoe like a baby
The way you tend to us when we're ill

Even when I may not act like it
(Or talk like it)
You are a huge part of my life
A part I would not want to do without
So today, on Mothers Day
I want to thank you

Thank you for being my teacher
Thank you for being a 'cool mom'
Thank you for tolerating all sorts of pets
Thank you for accepting my quirks
Thank you for loving my quirks
Thank you for going the extra mile

Thank you for never giving up on me
Thank you for always loving me
I love you, Mom
Beyond what you will ever know

By
Farrah L. May 2005

Stargazing

Darkness has engulfed me
Cool damp wind toys with my hair
Barley see my breath
Floating in the void
Shiloettes dance on the horizon
Promise of morning
Diamonds shimmer in the sky
Eternal beauty
I am a mere speck
in the course of history
Gazing at forever

Rei

Dear child,
Get up off the floor and dry your tears. Your beautiful face should not be stained with such sadness. Come now, gather up the pieces of your heart. He was only a boy. You know what they say about boys, now, don't you? Yeah, me either. Com here, cry on my shoulder. Let me give you the words of wisdom that I don't have. Cliches and sayings are as empty as a broken goblet. Do not let him define who you are. Don't let him determine your value. You are beautiful and priceless. Let no one tell you otherwise. Now, stand up tall and we shall go dnacing. Spread your wings and fly to the stars. You are amazing.

Bus stop

I gave you my heart.
Did you even notice?
You left me standing in the rain
Gathering up the pieces of my broken spirit.
Waiting at a bus stop
I'm crying lonely, broken tears
Wishing you were here to hold me
And share a blue umbrella