Sunday Morning

Sitting in traffic
The car thrums around me
Like the heartbeat of someone
Who has just exercised
It feels out of breath

The Man in the Coffee Shop

There once was a man who wrote a novel on a napkin
That nobody could read,  because you see
The words were so tiny and close together
Sometimes the letters overlapped, or smudged
Creating an ink smear to blot out an entire chapter
His pen ran dry three times, the ink fading out
The only time a word could be deciphered
He wrote this novel in times of both sorrow and joy
The characters were fully fleshed out
The man wrote every morning in the coffee shop
He wrote for years and years, one sentence at a time
Many passed by but nobody saw
Or if they did, they thought he was crazy
Nobody knew that he was creating a world
Out of pen and a fragile napkin
The man wrote this novel
And while works of "art" hang in galleries
Blank canvases, work that takes a minute or less
Red dots and blue lines, no work at all
One day in the coffee shop on the corner
The man's novel was crumpled
And tossed out with the trash

There once was a man who wrote a novel on a napkin
And nobody knew, because they didn't pay attention

Brain & Heart

Sorry it's really rough, I was half asleep when I wrote this.

Brain: It will never work out, you know.

Heart: I don't care!

B: You will.

H: Will not!

B: Look, he's not even paying attention to you. There's no hope.

H: There's always hope! If I try reeaallllyyyyyy hard.

B: Look. Guys like him just don't like girls like you, okay? Remember what happened last time.

H: I've grown since that happened! It won't happen again.

B: You're doing it again.

H: What?

B: Don't you see he's exactly like him?

H: Well.....maybe.....but it doesn't matter!

B: It does! He'll break you too, silly Heart. They always do. They always will

H: Shut up! Shut up! I won't listen to you. Something will work out someday! I just know it.

B:.........

H: Shut up.

B: I just don't want you to get hurt again.

H: Yeah. I know. But I can't stop myself. I don't want to.

B: Why?

H: Well isn't this better than thinking it's hopeless? At least a little?

B: No.

H: Well of course you wouldn't think so. But I do. So there.

B: Please don't. You're going on a mission. You want that too.

H: Yeah. Hey maybe that's why they don't see me! Cuz nothing can happen until I've served a mission.

B: Stop. Just stop. You're being ridiculous.

H: Sshhhhh. Ridiculous comforts me.

B: They'll never see you.

H: They will. They have to.

Faith=Choice

I was reading in 1 Nephi 17 today, and read this verse:

45 Ye are swift to do iniquity but slow to remember the Lord your God. Ye have seen an angel, and he spake unto you; yea, ye have heard his voice from time to time; and he hath spoken unto you in a still small voice, but ye were past feeling, that ye could not feel his words; wherefore, he has spoken unto you like unto the voice of thunder, which did cause the earth to shake as if it were to divide asunder.

This verse got me thinking about how faith is a choice. Laman and Lemuel had signs and wonders performed before their eyes. They saw an angel! They felt the Spirit, heard voices of thunder. Yet they still did not have faith. They believed their father was crazy and Nephi equally mad.

Faith is a choice.

It's not an easy one, like "salad or soup," not at all. It's a lifestyle choice. Kinda like eating right or exercising every day- it's hard. But it gets easier the more that you do it. Choosing faith is like that.

I have had conversations in the past with someone who didn't really believe faith was a choice. I guess they thought it just showed up magically or something. Or that you were born with it. I mean, sure you can be born with a more faithful predisposition, I believe that, but anyone can be faithful, and gain faith. That conversation was a weird one, because of the differing beliefs. Because I believe faith is chosen.

What if it wasn't a choice? What if certain people were born to be faithful and others weren't? There would be no converts then because no one would be able to choose- they'd just be faithful. Nobody would ever lose their faith- but nobody would gain it either. It would hurt our free agency, a lot. That would make God a partial God and a respecter of persons, which he is not. God accepts all that choose to come to him.

We choose to come unto him. We choose our faith and then gain a confirmation through our actions. We know from the Book of Mormon that God does not show signs to whoever asks. He shows them to the faithful though, to those who have chosen Him.

I guess my whole point is that we choose to believe. And we have to choose every day to not give up, to hold on to that faith. And it can be hard, so hard. But it can also be beautiful. Don't give up.

Inauguration Pt 2

So. We ended up in the front row. Less than five hundred feet away from President Monson and the rest of the First Presidency!!! It was way cool. A great experience. We heard some good talks, beautiful music, it was just incredible. Definitely a once in a lifetime experience.

Inauguration!

Dear May

This letter is a bit overdue.

You hurt me you know. Pretty bad. There were a lot of things wrong in our relationship. And we both knew we were never gonna make it. I'm sorry to have ended it earlier, but it was right. Had I waited much longer, I might not have had the strength to do it, with all that happened in the next few weeks.

We weren't perfect. And I know some of the time, you mistreated me, but I did return the favor, in a way. The more you griped and blamed and complained, the less I tried. It was always my fault anyway, you see, that we couldn't spend every minute of every day together. It didn't matter if I had other plans, or things that needed done, or that I had to play for the gas it took to drive out to meet you. I was never trying hard enough for you, and so I stopped trying. That killed anything we had, both the way you blamed me and the way I stopped trying.

I truly did care for you though. You helped me understand myself, and what I really want in my life. You helped me see who I was. I'll miss that. I'll miss your jokes, your smiles, your sweetness. I'll miss the times we had to work through things and we did. I'll miss how you saw me, because you saw the most of the real me. Well not anymore, but at the time, it was true that you'd seen the most of me.

But I won't miss the complaining. I won't miss the lies or the broken promises. I won't miss how you broke my heart at the same time you loved it. You made me maybe two promises, and you broke them both. They may not have been important to you, but they were to me. And you promised.

In hindsight, I can see all the warning signs that should have pushed me away from any romantic involvement with you. But hindsight is always 20/20 isn't it? And love is truly blind. I only saw the you that I wanted to see- the you I met for real a little over a year ago. The you that was perfect for me. But so much of that was a disguise. It hurts to find out that someone isn't who you think they are.

We had our ups and downs, and in the end we just didn't fit together. I'm sorry. I'll forever miss what we had but I'm moving on. I have moved on. Goodbye, my May.

Erin

This post is sort of a sequel to an old one- Vulnerability.