Why I Wanted a Laptop

I have been so long without one that I forgot what it was like to have one. I justified getting this laptop, because it was my graduation, and because I will need a laptop for writing. Today, I decided that no longer is any other justification needed than that it helps my marriage.

This morning I spent a long time on my computer, just kind of doing nothing, watching tv online, etc. I was wondering really why I was doing this instead of doing something more productive, that might make me feel better. Then Janardan woke up, and he was on his computer, and I was so excited to talk to him.

On the computer, we have easier communication, because it doesn't make any physical demands, and he can have the time to think. I am more patient, and he is more talkative. Today as I was talking to him, I realized what I have been missing, more than being able to watch tv in bed, or carry my computer to the bathroom, it has been the easy and open communication that I can have with my husband.

Today I am happy to have a computer so I can talk freely with my husband.

New Computer yea~

Yeah so I got my new laptop in the mail today. Yea~ And already I have had a good experience with customer service, so that is postive. The guy was great.

The Big Give

Ok...so I have been reading the internets, wanting to read that someone thought the same thing about this show, and many people had similar ideas, but I thought I should express my thoughts.

The first episode of this was great...until the judging. There were all of these inspiring stories--they made differences in people's lives, were able to raise lots of money to help these people out, and make dreams come true. And then they were judged on how well they did at making people's dreams come true. This seems counter-intuitive to me, and I saw in the next episode the repercussions from that. The first show, people were much more concerned with how they could help, stars in their eyes with the good they could do. The second show--people had that, but they were also combatting the feelings of worry over being judged unworthy to continue on. They worried about what the judges would think.

This seems like it could be a great feel-good show, just showing these ten people go all around the country, doing lots of good in the world. But, it just has this bitter aftertaste, that the cost of this show is that people have to be sent home, sad that they weren't good enough givers? That does not sound very inspiring to me.

And in this last show, they voted off a girl who was just trying to overcome her problems from previous times, and trying to make peace in her group. But apparently the judges wanted to side with the pushy overbearing woman.

I see how excited these people were on the first episode, to help people, to go out there and make a difference, and that is slowly disappearing. People are concerned about their image, how they will look to the judges, and TRYING to focus on the people they are helping. They are not being swept up into an environment of love and giving, an environment that could affect us all, and inspire us all to be better and give more.

It is just sad to me that a show such as this has to be tainted by the criticism and self-comparison that plagues our world. It is the kind of show that should inspire us to be better, and it may to some respect, but my first desire is to see this show do better to take care of the people they have involved in their project of giving.

A Can Of Chicken Soup

Now this may not look like seven meals to you...

But it does to me.

I have been feeling very unmotivated to cook lately, and the other day I had a craving for funeral potatoes, so I grabbed the one can of cream of chicken soup that I had in my house, and threw together some funeral potatoes. They were yummy. I was happy with my meal, and on Tuesday, I ate the leftovers for breakfast, but was back to feeling unmotivated by food, except for funeral potatoes. I thought I should go to the store, but knew I was not motivated enough to do that.

So I was at Emily's house, and breifly mentioned that I should go and buy a can of cream of chicken soup. A minute late I had a can in my hands, and later that night I was preparing another tray of funeral potatoes. As I made the funeral potatoes, though, I started a pot boiling, and made some pierogies, deciding I could cook up the potatoes later and eat them at a different time.

So this morning I woke up, and fed myself some funeral potatoes, and went off for the day. Then I came home, and started making enchiladas for Janardan, as I decided I would eat funeral potatoes. I also threw some stuff into the crock pot so we could have a late dinner. As I was waiting for the enchiladas to bake, I was trying to remember things I used to make in the crockpot. I started setting things aside, and now have things set aside for four more meals.

The saying goes -- the journey of a 1000 miles begins with one step -- well my journey back into the domain of taking care of myself and my husband began with one can of cream of chicken soup. Thanks Em.

(As a note, it was a Western Family can, not campbells--I tried to find a picture of one online, but after 3 minutes gave up, and was too lazy to take a picture with my camera, so enjoy the picture of campbell's).

Joann's is the bane of my existence

So I went to Joann's today, because I had a dream about a summer dress today, and I was like - must find fabric for dress.

So I didn't find fabric for the dress, but I did find a pattern and a dress that I also liked, so I was like - this sounds good. The fabric was $12.99 -- ouch I know, but it was okay, because it was 40% off.

So I was looking back at my ticket after the cutting, and the discount had not been applied. I asked the cutting lady about it, and she said that it was part of the "Spring Metallic" line, not the "All That Glitters" line that was on sale...even though every other piece of fabric around it was in the All that Glitters line, and it is not like it did not glitter - it did! I looked all around the store, to see if I could find any other place it looked like it fit more than under that sign, and it didn't look like it. There were no other fabrics that even looked like it, just a different color.

She asked me if that was okay. I took a moment to decide, and then said, probably not, and relinquished the fabric. I was not going to pay $50 for this dress...not even including the pattern price.

But, I did find some nice fabric for some jeans and a shirt, so that was nice. Plus, I really want to find the stuff to make the dress from my dream. :)

It's A Wonderful Life

I usually watch this movie around Christmas, as many people do. Today I just really felt like watching it.

I got news today that a prompting I followed a long time ago really had a great impact in someone's life. It gave me hope that I may actually be able to reach my aspirations.

So as I was watching this movie, I felt like I was George Bailey. I wondered really how much I have done in people's lives, and as I saw all of those great things that he did, I thought of different things that I have done that have impacted people for the better. I guess it made me think about how much my life is worth, how much of a difference I make, especially to those people I love.

I was sobbing by the end, just because these experiences were just what I needed, to feel like I can really make a difference in the world, that my being here has made at least some people's lives better, and trying all my days to make changes in the world for the better, though I may never be as great as I hope to be, I can still preform great works, and there is that possibility for greatness within me.

I feel like the Lord is watching out for me, not just by showing me that other people can receive promptings to help me, but that also I can make a difference to other people, and how that can strengthen and lift me, as I realize my worth, and my ability to bless other people's lives, that it is not fruitless to try, and that even if I don't know the impact I am having, just my living on this earth and being who I am, just trying to be a good person, and love my fellow men, that I will have a good impact.

When Soren was born, I was so impressed by how much his simple little short life had impacted me, how much I loved him, and how much he changed me, just by being in this world. Today I am realizing how much impact I have had, and it just gives me hope that I can continue, and that if I work all my days, I can have even greater impact.

The Lord does not give us our mission in life without giving us the strength and experiences that we need in order to fulfill that mission. Today, the Lord has assured me that I can make a difference, and the choices I make of what I do when I am home all alone, deciding to write instead of something else that those differences matter.

Today, George Bailey is my hero.

How God Loves Me

"You are well acquainted with Him, for there is not a soul of you but what has lived in His house and dwelt with Him year after year; and yet you are seeking to become acquainted with Him, when the fact is, you have merely forgotten what you did know" (Brigham Young, Journal of Discourses 4:216).

I was reading this today while I was in sacrament meeting, and it just hit me, how far away I am from my Father, how He longs for me to return to Him, how He loves me, and how I love Him, how much I miss Him. How it is not just me that wishes He could be here and give me a hug -- he wants that too.

Today I remembered a little more of my life before, of what it was like to live with Him, and how He would comfort me, and it eases my soul to know He desires that for me now too, that He wants to show me how much He loves me.

It is amazing, and yet so real.

Feelings I enjoy

My old roommate and good friend Carolyn loves being happy. It comes natural to think that I like being happy, and I used to think that I like being happy, but I realized last week that I enjoy pain, and not in the masochistic way, well, at least I don't think so. I don't like physical pain in the least, but I enjoy manageable emotional pain.

The unfortunate thing is that just as happiness is fickle, so too is manageable emotional pain. The key word being manageable. Put yourself in too much emotional pain, and it crosses over to depression. Depression is not a feeling I enjoy, and yet one I find myself in more often that I would like. I realize, now, why that happens. It is because I am seeking that emotional pain.

I like being happy too, but I don't desire to be happy all the time. There is a richness that comes in pain that does not come from a life of contentment. In high school, it was easy to get these pain doses. Hormones running wild, liking lots of guys, all the confusion that comes with that, all of it that matters but doesn't matter--perfect for my desire for emotional pain. It's not actually the pain I like, it's that cathartic release, but I can enjoy the pain if I can tell there will be a release. It is when I see no end in sight that I get depressed. (As a note, I am using the term depressed loosely--I am not clinically depressed, I am more just referring to feeling blue for a series of days).

I wonder also if that is part of the reason I was drawn to Janardan as a marriage partner, the potential for emotional pain always being there, without his hurting me necessarily having to be the cause. Obviously that was not the only factor, as there were many others, much more obvious, and reasons I actually based the decision on. Just a musing.

I like to read sad books, books that explore sad concepts. I feel enriched by such experiences. They also tend to paint the beauty into the pain, which is the main reason I enjoy the pain, is because it is beautiful.

I guess thinking about the tree of knowledge of good and evil -- I would partake, just to have the wisdom and beauty that comes from pain. It truly does bring joy. I guess that is the difference to me-- happiness is the everyday contentment, where everything seems to be going well, and you feel good -- joy is the rises and falls, the leaps and the crumbling, all the while seeing the beauty of the experiences. Joy, to me, is the pain and the happiness. It is fuller.

Changes

We are moving to Texas. At the end of April. We're only planning on being there for six months. It is odd. The one thing I am looking forward to is making friends with two people who I missed to make friends with in Provo. They moved out as soon as I moved into my current ward.

I am scared of moving to Texas, of being lonely, and not having a social network there to support me. Our hope is that a clinic down in Texas will be able to help Janardan get healthier, and that the burden of that can fall on his mom instead of me, so it will actually get done.

So, yeah. That's the update.

The Sacrifices Associated with Life

Most of the time, I am largely unaware of the sacrifices I am making, or the choice between alternatives. It just seems that what I am choosing is what I am choosing, and not that I am choosing the present course instead of another, or at the expense of another. Lately I have been more aware of these forks in the road, these choices and how they affect things.

Today I came to grips with something -- you can't have it all. I knew it on several levels, but it hit home in a major way today. Being a more frictiony episode in my marriage (birthdays cause higher expectations that are easier to be dashed when your husband is physically unable to do a lot), today I spent the day reading a book, the second in the Twilight series. I was reading it, because I knew it would be an intense experience, and it could keep me from feeling my own emotions. So after I finished the book today, I hopped onto Stephenie Meyer's website, and was just reading through things. I read through an interview about her writing process, and emotions that have been floating on the back burner for the past week or so came to a head.

I have three avenues that I want to explore with my writing at present. First, I want to write fiction--fantasy and just tell true stories with fictional people. Second, I have been having more urging to write a personal history. Third, I want to give people an alternate view of the United States politicians, associated with the blog I have started called Politics by leadership -- found here (http://politicsbyleadership.blogspot.com/) if you are interested. All of these things are daunting tasks to me, all designed to change the world. I have high aspirations of leaving a lasting impression on this sphere we live on. I want people's lives to be different because I have lived on it. Better, hopefully.

A month or so ago, I sobbed because I could not be a professional quilter. That day I realized that it was that I was giving up to be a writer. I could have it as a hobby, but it couldn't consume my days. I thought when I graduated that I would become a temple worker. Today I went to the temple, and realized that is a sacrifice I will make so I can do those three things. I've wanted to be in a musical on Center Street, but I don't have that kind of time when I am doing these things -- another sacrifice.

And so of course looking at all these things makes me wonder how I will ever have time to do anything when I have kids. Stephenie said that she writes after her kids go to bed, and writes pretty much until she passes out from exhaustion. I don't think I can do that. I care too much about getting my body proper rest. I also want to have time to spend with my husband without the kids. I also want to study my scriptures each day, and I would like to keep reading as well -- all of these things that require alone time, which is just not as available when kids are there. Of course that is a concern I need not worry about for at least two years. My deal with Janardan expires a year from August, and then I would be pregnant for nine months. I have plenty of time to figure that one out.

I have a confidence in myself that I can do the big three. But then I also have this overwhelming feeling of how? How am I going to do them? Can I really do them? It all seems like too much to handle. I feel like I will be constantly swimming to the surface to find I still have a few more inches of water over my head. I want to suck in the air, and know that I can do it, instead of this battle between my stubborn knowing, and my pitiful self-doubt. Two ladies came up to me in the Celestial room today because I was sobbing. I am sure they thought my boyfriend had broken up with me, not that I was worried about being able to write three different things.

Intellectually, I do not really understand why I am so concerned, why I have such feelings of self-doubt. But emotionally, I just feel so...unqualified, and like it is too much for me, one person, to handle. But I am not willing to let any of the big three go, so stubbornness and intellectuality will win of course. Oh and that I think it's what God wants me to do.

I get like this when I am contemplating and not actually doing. I haven't written since Idaho. I get caught up in having to make a difference in the world, and not just the everyday task of actually putting words on paper. I think I am somewhat staggered by the prospect of writing my blog entries for Politics by leadership. I am actually rather excited to start working on my personal history, but I feel behind--should have already written about Obama.

I am scared of obsessing about one of the big three now, and forever leaving the other two behind. That is what I am really scared of. I am scared of starting my personal history, and then never getting back to fiction, never getting back to the politics. That is why I must do them all three at the same time, because if I don't -- putting them off until later will be putting them off forever. I will never do them if one of the big three is already there.

Once I get myself started and am working on all three at once, I will get in the swing of things and be fine -- I am just daunted by the task. And I am giving up things so I can have the big three, and today I am feeling that. Not a temple worker, not playing in a musical. Less time sewing still.

I feel odd sharing my "I don't think I can do it" feelings. Because I fiercely believe in myself, and when I think about telling them to anyone, I think - well if they don't think I can do it, they are wrong. I am strong willed and I will do it. But that doesn't mean that some days, just on my own, I don't think I can do it.

Twilight -- no spoilers

It is fun to get obsessed with a book. It is fun to have a book that draws you in. I like reading.

Organizing is Impossible

This is my conclusion. You cannot organize your house. Entropy is too strong of a force. Just give in! If you have ever seen the show Clean House, the way those houses look before is our natural state! Houses are meant to be dirty and full of crap. Yay!

That being said, organizing my house is going pretty well. It is just this finishing up stuff that is annoying. It is like, where do I put all of these odds and ends? And how do I have all of these random things that serve no real purpose in my life. I am half tempted to just go through with a trash bag and put everything else that is unorganized in there. That would be a good way to make things organized.

And I am having a party tomorrow. It is to motivate me to clean up the house, which it is doing. And I think the party will be fun, but I am kind of stressed today. I haven't decided what kind of refreshments I am having, so yeah, it should be fun.

Heavenly Choirs

It is an amazing thing to hear 1000 voices sing together. United together, calling out to Israel, telling them God is calling. Tonight I heard those voices singing, and I sang with them. And as we got to the third verse, I heard our earthly voices supplemented by the voices of those from heaven. The voices filled the room, all united telling each other that God is calling us. Tonight I saw the union of heaven and earth, united in singing a song, and my voice was priveleged to be among them. We had all truly "come to Zion, come to Zion."

A New Life

It's amazing how a new life can change everything. Carolyn had her baby today, and I went to the hospital to see the addition to their family. I love Scott and Carolyn. They are amazing people. They are wonderful people to be chosen to raise a choice spirit of the Lord's. Soren is really cute, and special.

When a new life enters the world, it is changed forever. Each life of that life leaves its print on the world. Every life matters--long and short. The world is different today because Soren Duede was born. I am different. How amazing the miracle of life.

I'm done moving!

Hallelujah this day came. I honestly think I would have had a nervous breakdown if Emily, Ben, and Dad were not there to help me move. I have two more finals, and then I will be done with school. I am sad that I have not had the energy or time to get melancholy about school ending. Maybe tomorrow, but probably not, as exams are not very melancholy inducing. Last days of classes are melancholy inducing. Of everything that makes me mad about this situation, I think that makes me the maddest. How many times do you finish your bachelor's degree? And I didn't get to enjoy it. I am peeved about Christmas too, but Christmas at least comes again next year. Next year, I won't be graduating.

At least I am gone from that place. I can wash my hands of it.

For those of you who were upset with them as much or more than I was, I wrote them a letter today. Considering the circumstances, I thought it was a pretty nice letter. I just told them what they had done to me, Janardan, and my family. That alone was pretty grievous. I explained that I did not have the time nor the energy to clean the apartment, so that they would understand why I did not clean it.

I am tired and ready for a good long break. Going out east for three weeks could not be coming at a better time.

In the movie The Little Match Girl, there is an apartment complex that is being shut down and all the tenants are being told to leave a week before Christmas, escalating to a Christmas eve where they are supposed to be gone. All of this is of course orchestrated by an evil plotting man who cares nothing for the spirit of Christmas, and cares nothing for the people.

This is a scene that makes sense. An evil plotting man kicking people out of their homes on the eve of Christmas. That is why there is a bit of disconnect when it is nice kind people who kicked me out of my home practically on the eve of Christmas.

Last Thursday I was invited up to the home of my landlords. They had called me on Wednesday saying there was a possibility that they would be moving, and were wondering if we had plans on moving since I was graduating. I told them no I did not plan on moving, and we would love to be tenants here if they decided to sell the house. Well on Thursday they told me that they did not intend to sell the house, but they want to rent the entire house, and so when would we be able to move out. I mentioned that we are going on a trip right after Christmas, and so by the end of January would be a good time for us. They say they need to be gone by January 2, so could we *try* to find a place to move before we leave. So we start discussing options. I tell them I don't really know that many people in the ward that have apartments, and do they know people. Mike offers to call lots of people and really help me out. But then his wife suggests that he just give me the numbers so I can call them, because can't I do that?

Let us consider. Yes I do have the ability to enter numbers into a phone and call people and ask them if they have openings in their homes for someone who is going to be left stranded before Christmas...oh wait, I didn't know that yet. Back to the present. But yes, I had been planning on you know, working on Christmas presents, spending time with my dad, studying for tests.

So Friday comes and I have a test to take. I am freaking out, because they want me to move before I leave on the 26th. I scour the internet looking for places with openings, finding nothing in my ward, nothing in my price range, nothing with the amenities I want. So I have to take a test, and I go into it knowing full well that with an hour of studying I probably could have aced it, but an hour away from looking for a place to stay was not something I had. I probably failed the test. Oh well.

When I get out of my test, I am greeted by a lovely voicemail from Mike, telling me that he wants us out by the 21st. And this is the grand disconnect. No evil overtone, no mwahaha I am so evil laugh...just...a kind voice...telling me that I am getting 2 weeks notice to move...right before Christmas...during finals week. "Let us know if there is anything we can do to help." How about letting me have a place to live? How about time to concentrate on getting good grades and feeling good about being a student, how about letting me enjoy the Christmas season? How about not putting the biggest amount of stress possible on me and therefore my husband....who has fibromyalgia that flares up when there are high stress situations. Oh wait, there was some mercy, by some freak accident you chose to kick me out in just enough time for me to be able to move while my dad is here so there is a lot less stress on Janardan, but wait...you didn't know that, and therefore did not even care.

The good news is that we got a place, and it is on the same block as Emily. I won't have a yard, but hopefully some plants can grow in the windows. It is a lot bigger place, and the rent is a little cheaper, but we will have to pay for utilities. We have our own washer and dryer. The kitchen is kind of funky, in that it cannot have a traditional oven, so we will see how that works out. (It is zoning laws...which I may be tempted to dispense with if I don't end up liking the arrangement, and the landlord shouldn't get in trouble as long as she doesn't know.) But if I like it, that will be nice.

The bad news is that I have to move. Saturday, some yesterday, and then a whole day today of packing, moving, unpacking. Well the first of today was actually me almost having a nervous breakdown. Seriously I think if my dad were not here, I would have had a nervous breakdown this morning, but when I started freaking out, I just had Janardan call dad, and he came and read Harry Potter to me.

This situation has made me think a lot about evility. We so often associate in movies these people who are evil through and through, who kick their dogs and cheat on their wives, and they are the ones kicking people out of their homes on Christmas, but when the Hawleys do it, it is not because they are bad people, but because they do not think. They probably have not ever once considered what their actions mean to me in my life. I think they would care if they thought, but they do not care to think. And that perhaps is the greatest evil. When you think you do good, and you do harm, it is the worst kind of deception--of yourself.

Edit: At least now I will be able to write lawful good villains.

Vacation Is Over

It is amazing how being home can just stress you. I had a really great vacation, and was rested and pretty stress-free, and then last night I got home and had tons of dreams about doing poorly on tests and having presentations that were unprepared for. And so today I have just been a little stressed because of those things, and then on top of that today was like the first day ever that Nursery has been stressful, as we had about four kids crying at one time throughout the whole time. I had one kid who I had to chase down and get. That was fun, but it was still kind of stressful.

I think I am also stressed because Janardan hasn't been feeling well today and so it seems more like he wants me to do stuff for him, and I just don't feel up to it, and it was nice when his mom was doing that kind of thing for him this past week, even though he didn't need it as much as he would have needed it today.

I am glad I have less than a month left of school. I think I would probably have a breakdown if it was going to be much longer than that. Of course if it was going to be longer than that I would have never made myself so busy because I knew I couldn't handle it, but you know. I think I am just tired and ready for a break, and five days was not enough.

I wanted to get straight As this semester, but I think I'm gonna have a few A-s. There is no universal standard, and an A means a different thing in every class -- in some it has more to do with the teacher than the student. I don't know how to stay motivated to do well when such disparity exists.

School Is Consuming

I really like school. I like taking classes, and getting an education. I enjoy most of my classes, well no, I enjoy some aspects of all of my classes, just not always the lectures. I don't really have much time for a lot outsides of school. I don't have the energy to write everyday, but I miss writing. I am enjoying going to school, but I am excited for it to be done, so I can start writing again, and being so domestic.

I am, however, finding slight times to be domestic. Yesterday, I made myself about 45 mini pizzas. I still have more crusts to finish. I have three varieties so far, and I am going to make more. My goal is to be able to feed myself for the rest of the semester on campus with the pizzas I am making now. I think I am going to try making a few more crusts, and this supply could last me past the end of the semester which would be nice.

I got really stressed out on Friday, though. I went out grocery shopping, and to the movie store, and to Del Taco, and it just kind of overwhelmed me. I think I was partially freaking out, because Janardan may be getting normal sick, which means he could be a lot worse off, and I don't have the energy to take care of him, and do school, right now. But, I think I will be able to manage, just learning how not to over-extend myself, so I end up depressed, which doesn't help anybody.

I am really excited about my Christmas Tree skirt. I have 3/5 scenes done with applique, so just 2 more to go. There is still a bit to do after that, but it will seem a lot more doable. I think I should have it done by Thanksgiving, and if not, be able to finish it over the break.

I am really enjoying my singing class. I can already feel myself learning technique, and feeling less strain in my voice when I sing. There is this posture that my teacher gets me into that opens me up a lot, but I cannot figure out how to do it on my own.

So things are going good, but I miss writing, and I am excited when school is over and I will have the energy for it again, because I learn a lot about myself through writing.

One Year and Still Goin'

So today was our one year anniversary. One year we've been married. First seven months kinda sucked, more due to fibromyalgia than problems with my husband or me (well at least my husband). Then finally I adjusted to the fibro and things got decent, and then in the past month or so things have been awesome.

Words of wisdom -
Dating someone who is chronically ill is not the same as being married to them.
Marriage is harder than you think it will be, even when you think it will be hard.
Everything is not how you suppose it to be.
Marriage is different for every couple.
It's worth it if you are willing to work through the hurt.
Almost everything comes down to a misunderstanding, or a disappointment that can be shared.

I am not looking forward to the process of turning into "married with kids", as it seems to cause the same process as marriage. Hopefully I've learned stuff to help me, but fortunately that time won't be coming for some time, so I can enjoy the happy married stage for a long time.

Before I got married, I thought I could do it all. After I got married, I thought I was proved wrong, when I felt so depressed I could hardly do anything. Now I realize my limits and don't try to do more than I can, but by and large I can do it all. It just takes getting a system, forming habits, and most of all, not being depressed.

Now when I mean do it all, I mainly mean take care of Janardan and keep our household running smoothly. The Lord has a work for me to do, and it scares me, to inaction at times. I went through being afraid a month ago as well, but then I started doing stuff, and it was good. Well, I'll stop being so cryptic. I am going to write. That will be my long term career. All growing up I never envisioned being anything else but a writer, and then somewhere in my teenage years, I got afraid of it, and so just kind of put it out of my mind. Now that I have come back to wanting to write, I am afraid of what I am supposed to do. I want to write, I love writing, but sometimes it is hard to think greatness exists in yourself, where it is not just following a plan. I had lots of visions for other ways I could do great things in the world, and none of them scared me, but writing scares me. That's why it's taken me a month to even write about it on my blog.

I think what I worry about most of all is never finding those great ideas for stories to write about. I'm worried about writing things that are trite, and worried about things I write being understood a million different ways. I've already written one story, which I'll post on my blog sometime this week. And therein lies my fear. I know I can write things that I think are good. I know that I can write well on assigned topics; in school I have every confidence that teachers will recognize my good writing, but it is not the writing, but the stories that scare me, because the stories I write are me. Falia and Muriel, they are people to me, and their lives and sacrifices matter to me. And so what I am afraid of is baring my soul to the world, for all to see and criticize.

With that said, I do still want people to tell me what they think. Things may be issues with the writing, not the story, and I know that I may not express everything in a way that is understandable, so I definitely want to be aware of those issues. And I would like to know what you all think of the story too. Also, please email responses, as that will be better for us to keep up a dialogue on it -- writecrazy@gmail.com.

Oh what the heck, I'll post it today.

Words & Understanding

                                                                                                    
   Winthrop was tired. Everyday he had to walk to the woods to fetch pails of water. Granted, the woods were beautiful, and it was very soothing to walk through them, but he lived in the middle of town, far away from the woods.
    He stopped. There was a prohibition against digging a well in the town. It was an old law, and no one understood why it existed. Well,why not? He walked back toward the house. He went to the middle of his house. No one would see it here. He took his shovel and began to dig.
   He didn't notice it when it escaped, and he just kept digging. Finally water began to rush into his hole. He dug deepr and greedily drank the water. As he climbed out of his hole, he looked over at the distant tall trees. “I'll never have to walk in those cursed woods again.”
 

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Generations Later

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   Falia sat on a large stone in the middle of the woods. The wind touched her face, and her dark hair played across her back. She wore a peaceful smile on her face.
   In the wood, the evil cannot penetrate. It is suffused with goodness. Why can't the town be good like the woods? Don't thye see the evil, feel it like a disease overtaking their souls? They are good people, but they let the evil overcome them. How can they be rid of their evil?
   The question tossed around in her mind. It was a question she had often considered.
Perhaps the people could move to the wood? But that idea made her shudder, for she envisioned the people chopping down the trees, and tearing the roots from the ground.
Perhaps the goodness of the wood could be transferred to the town?
   She smiled at the thought, for the sheer impracticality of it. She figured it was time to leave if her thoughts had diminished into impracticalities. She stood up and walked through the woods, toward the town. She eventually came to the path that led into town, and followed it into the middle of town. It was early, so most people were working in the fields or somewhere else, not many people on the streets in town. She saw only three people as she walked home. She passed a little boy working at the livery grooming the horses. He called out to her and she stopped to talk. His master came out and yelled at the boy, “Get back to work!” He hit the boy hard on the back. “And don't you talk to her. You know where she been, in them cursed woods.”
   Falia gestured farwell to the boy and walked on, feeling the overwhelming sense of evil in the man. She felt sorrow for him, that he did not even realize it.
   She passed another woman hitting chickens with her broom and sighed. The evil was strong in the town.
   The farm of Falia's family was on the outskirts of town on the other side from where she went to the woods. Finally she reached their house. In front of the house, there was an unfamiliar horse.
   As Falia opened the front dor, she heard her mother yell from where her bed was, “Falia where have you been? Probably in the woods. Well get out in the garden and pick the vegetables for dinner, then go out and help your father with the farm.”
   Falia closed the door, never having opened it fully, and walked around back to the garden. She began digging in the dirt, her eyes glazed over with tears. When her tears subsided, she began picking some vegetables. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the swish of a skirt, and looked up to see her sister, Muriel, standing above her.
   “Oh Muriel. Did you see the horse? The evil is so strong in mother. Only in the woods does goodness abound. In the town, it is everywhere.”
   “You have no evil now.”
   Falia got frustrated. This was not a time for Muriel to be giving sagely words. I have no evil now. What does that even mean. A memory flashed in Falia's mind of Muriel saying, “Don't think about what I'm not saying.” Falia took a deep breath and calmed down. The memory always calmed her. I have no evil.....evil....ah, I see. The evil is not in me. It is out there in the town, but I am filled with goodness. The woods have blessed me beyond their reach. Oh, the people could too be blessed if they would just walk in them.
   “Muriel, you must tell the people!”
   “Of course, but you will tell me what to say.”
   She really did not understand. Falia was amazed by it again and again. Muriel would always say the most insightful things, and Falia had derived great meaning from them, but Muriel could not understand, and always waited to hear Falia's explanation.
   “The woods. If the people will walk often in the woods, they can be rid of the evil that has taken this town.”
   “What evil?”
   Falia understood. Muriel said it not as herself. She went in the woods herself, and felt the great division of good and evil. Muriel's very personailty was changed by the evil, making her quiet and sorrowful. In the woods, she would run free, talk freely, and feel peace. When she said “What evil?” she was talking as the town would respond. The town only knew evil, and so would see no reason to be rid of it, especially if the plan involved the 'cursed' woods.
   Falia said to Muriel, “They need someone to show them the evil.”
   “Shall it be you or me?”
   Falia resisted understanding. She tried to stop her mind from thinking, but understanding came nevertheless. Only they ventured into the woods, and so only one of them could show the people, do something so the people would react with all the evil in them, which mean that the town would kill that person. “Fine, I will do it,” Falia said with determination.
   “They will need understanding.” Falia crumpled. She knew it was true. They needed to understand, but that was a fleeting thought. Her thoughts were centered on her sister. Falia's frame was wracked with sobs. Muriel held her close, her own silent tears wetting Falia' dark hair.
   “Oh Muriel,” Falia took her head from her sister's lap, and threw her arms around Muriel, their bodies wracked with the same sorrow, tears that could not be separated.
   That day, the sisters would not be separated. Falia knew once they knew what to do, Murield would act, so she cherished these moments they still had together. That night they escaped into Muriel's woods. She preferred the ones right behind their farm, as it had a nice stream. Falia and Muriel ran through the stream, skipped rocks along it, laughed and danced. They sat and talked in the woods, Muriel bursting with conversation.
   “I think I have figured out what to do.” She had bright excitement in her eyes. In the woods, the sorrow could not touch them. The woods were mericful.
   The sisters slept in the woods that night. In the morning, they walked out of the woods. They first went home. Their mother was furious when she found out where they had been. “Don't you girls know those woods are cursed. A man built a house of wood. They day it was finished, it fell in on top of him and kille dhim. That same winter it was cold and a man cut down a tree for warmth. He lit a fire and it took over and burned his whole house down. The woods don't like this people. The woods curse us.”
   Everyone in town knew the stories. It was why people feared the woods, and thought of them as cursed.
   Falia and Muriel offered no explanation, but before she lef the house, Muriel hugged her mother and told her she loved her. Falia and Muriel then went out to the field, so Muriel could say goodbye to father.
   “You girlsbe careful. I don't like people knowing you go int the woods They'll think you're cursed. That's not why I showed them to you.”
   “Don't worry, father,” Muriel said. “Father I'm going into town today.” She hugged him. “I love you.”
   “Well if you're just going into town, I'll see you later.”
   The two sisters walked back toward the house. They had decied Falia would have to stay home. Their goodbye was long and emotional. It was midday before Muriel finally was ready to leave. As she walked away Falia called out, “Muriel! Thank you for your words.”
   “My work in death shall need you as my words ahd needed you in life. Farewell my other half,” and Muriel walked away.
   Falia kept her eyes on Muriel until she was out of sight. She wanted to have every moment that she could of Muriel being alive. They had planned that Falia would work on the farm and emerge in the middle of the night to go and look for Muriel. She could not stand the farm, though, and retreated into the protection and have of the woods. She did not want to feel the evil that would take place that night.

   Muriel's plan was simple. She would find the houses with the greatest evil and burn them.
   She walked through the town, all about town, feeling for evil. There wre many houses with great evil, so she picked on, a house made of hay, and set fire to it. When the couple saw it, they screamed and yelled. A few other people came running. Muriel sat near and watched. The fire was blazing, the whole house looked to be consumed in flames, but soon, the blaze had been put out with water. Muriel walke dcloser, and saw through the wreckage a well, and she felt from it seeping the evil. She ran into the house and began to push the stones into the well, covering it. The couple tried to stop her, but she was too determined to be stopped. She finished, and felt the evil covered up, but still felt it in the town.
   She went around the town, feeling the evil. Inside 15 different houses, there were wells, and she pushed them in, as the number of people trying to stop her grew. She fought them off and continued to push the stones in, working with all her energy. She was running toward the last place of evil when she tripped and fell, so exhausted she could not stand up. The crowd caught up with her, and threw stone upon stone at her. One finally hit her in the head, and she was no longer moving, but the rage still burned in the people. They continued to throw stones at her into the night. Finally exhausted, the people went home to sleep.

   Falia sat in the woods, and felt the moment her sister slipped from the world. She allowed herself a moment to cry, but knew she had work to do. She walked out of the woods, and felt the great evil. She ran, and planned on running until she found her sister. She ran toward the middle of town, but the further she got from her house, the more she sense that evil was dying. She whipped around and ventured to her house. She tore through the house, looking of the evil. Finally in her mother's cupboard, she found a small well, and Falia felt the evil cascading out of it. She pushed the stones around it into it, and covered up the evil.
   It was gone.
   She ran from her house to the center of town, hoping her sister had survived the evil, though in her heart she already knew.
   She slowed as she came to the crumpled body in the middle of the street. Under the ligth of the moon, she saw the dark bruises on her sister's body, the blood covering her face. Falia wept. She held her sister's lifeless body in her arms and felt it grow cold. Through her tears, she began to wipe the blood from her sister's face, wetting it with her tears. For hours she worked, weeping and gently cleaning her sister's body. The mood faded and the sun began to rise. People emerged from their homes to see Falia holding Muriel's lifeless body in her arms.
   The people began to weep. How had they done such evil? What could they do to rid themselves of such evil in their hearts?
   Muriel's mother screamed and ran when she her daughter's lifeless body in the street. Her father held his wife and Falia, tears streaming down his face.
When the loud weeping had resolved down to quiet weeping with shudders, Falia stood up. All of the people watched her.
   “She must be buried in the woods. Follow me.”
   Her father lifted Muriel and carried her, the town followed Falia and her father. They walked through town and out toward Falia's woods. The people hesitated at the edge of the woods.
“The woods have cursed us,” said the people.
   In one moment, Falia understood what must be done, stories of the past finally making sense to her. There were different stories told about how their ancestors used to worship trees, an idea repulsive to the people, for the “evil” of the trees. In a number of stories, there were snippets and phrases, which came together clearly in Falia's mind, as a prayer, a ritual, of sacrifice. The people would preform this ritual at the sacrifice of a tree, and the trees would protect the people from evil. The curse had come to those who did not preform the ritual.
   “Long ago, a man dug a well and released evil into our world. The evil made people forget the sacrifice of the trees. The trees tired to remind us by cursing the wood not given in sacrifice, but the evil was strong, and people thought the woods had forsake the people. Come, enter the woods, they will do you no harm.”
   Falia led, and the people followed. They came to the stone where Falia liked to sit, and in front of it, Falia got down on her knees, and began to dig the earth with her hands. A few people followed. They took turns, that all could help dig the grave. Father placed the poor abused body in the small grave. Falia and her mother pushed the pile of dirt over the lifeless body.
Falia gestured and the people knelt.
   “O great trees. We thank you for the sacrifice of this life. Let this life bring goodness to us, and protect us from evil.”
   The town murmured the words, “Protect us from evil,” after Falia.
   “With this life so willingly given, we start a new life.”
   “A new life,” they echoed.
   Falia took a seed from her pocked, poked a hold in the earth above Muriel's body and dropped the seed in. As she covered the hole with dirt, she began to speak, no longer intoning the words of the ritual.
   “Muriel gave her life that goodness could return to the town. The woods will protect us from evil, if we will give them respect.” An understanding lit in Falia's mind. “No other mortal has been the subject of the ritual, and so they never shall be again, but remember this—it took a true woman of the woods to bring the protection of the woods back to the people. May we never forget it. May our understanding overcome the sacrifice of words.”