sluffin' stuff

I have a confession to make. Back in High School, sometimes I would skip class. (We always called it "sluffing," but since then I've learned the term is not widely known. "Ditched" would also be appropriate.)

Anyway, I did this by myself. Alone. I had a specific park I'd drive to. It was nestled safely among the houses of the rich and famous. Ok, the somewhat famous. Someone told me that Marie Osmond lived in one of the houses. But no one could ever be specific which one.

I've often wondered if I was technically allowed to be there. The park was so enclosed, you'd have thought it was private. But no ever chased me off, so I returned. Not often, just when I needed some time to myself because, ya know, high school is rough.

I went there to read. There was a river that circled one side of the park and it was easy to find fairly secluded spots. It always seemed perfect. The sound of the river. The sun. Me. And my scriptures.

Sometimes I'd think more about seminary lessons. Sometimes I'd think about people. Sometimes I'd think about life. Sometimes I'd just read.

Sometimes I'd feel guilty for sluffing. . . but not often. Because when I got back to school for my next class, I felt so rejuvenated. I felt friendlier and happier.

The other day I read my scriptures outside, just for fun. All of these memories came flooding back, plus a few others. Waiting and reading on the temple lawn. Stopping on a rock in the middle of a hike. A thousand times and places at Girls' Camp. Always, I feel like things come into focus when I read outside. Its as though just being in God's creations makes it easier to see what He's seeing.

And do you suppose that, since I was reading my scriptures, my sluffing gets cancelled out?

isola to juliet

"I see it that you cared to know about us, so I guess you would like us to know about you--only you just didn't happen to think of it first."

-- excerpt from The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by MaryAnn Shaffer and Annie Barrows

This is brilliant. How I wish I could be this forward. I really do want to know about you. I really want you to know about me. I really want to be friends. Deep down, I think all of us want to be friends. So why do we "play it cool?" Let me try again.

Just so you know, I find you fascinating. Will you tell me about you?

And yes, I mean it.

to create

The closer I move to my Savior, the more I feel inclined to write. Anything. At all. I want to create. As women it seems to be a crucial part of our role. I believe both the ability and the desire to create come from God. What a wonderful blessing for the women He created himself. (Elder Uchtdorf spoke about this). Thus, to truly be like God, don't we too need to create? Anything. Music. Flowers. Food. Dancing. Cleanliness. Life. Beauty. Love. Happiness. Music. The written and spoken word.

Indeed He is a creative being. So when I feel close to Him, I feel inspired. The ideas flow. Often, when my pen touches paper, what comes out surprises me. It is not what I was thinking about or intending. It seems to be the true, honest and spontaneous feelings that are within me which often, I had not yet acknowledged. Boom. The truth revealed, in so many aspects.

nailed it

"Take out another notebook, pick up another pen and just write. Just write, just write. In the middle of the world, make one positive step. In the centre of chaos, make one definitive act. Just write. Say yes, stay alive, be awake. Just write. Just write. Just write."
-Natalie Goldman

http://freelancewrite.about.com/b/2009/07/06/a-quote-for-you.htm

a beginning

And so it is without further ado that I give you, my paperpad.

Paper, to me, has always been a source of excitement (lame, I know). But when a sheet is blank, it is pure. A perfect white. It is yours for the taking. What you do with it, is up to you. Write, draw, scribble, crumple, fold, tear, burn, etc. and so forth.

Paper has potential. Like all of us. Maybe that is where my true fascination lies. What am I making of myself? Am I happy with it? Then the beauty of a pad comes in. If I don't like where one section is headed, I can tear it out. I can start on a fresh sheet. Much like the beauty of repentance.

I'm also a fan of the basics. A sharpened pencil, not mechanical, but a yellow #2. Not printed ink, but raw writing. You can't backspace, so you scribble. The process is visible. Just like our process of becoming perfect. No one truly is. They just hide their scribbles.

And besides all of this, I need to write. Mental release is almost always eye-opening. So I take my pencil to paper, and I let it out. And sometimes, when I'm not feeling too shy or embarassed, I'll share it here. I can't guarantee it will be raw and un-edited, cause it won't be. But maybe it will encourage others to take out a blank sheet and see what they can make of it.

So welcome to my paperpad.