. . . All You Have to do is Listen . . .

I just got done watching the movie August Rush. Something about it takes my words away and makes me want to replace them with music. It's like the music just swipes the words out of my mouth.

I know it's not a true story. I know that the little boy probably wasn't playing because it never does really show his face and his hands playing guitar in the same shot. But something about it makes me think, what is stopping me, or anybody from being a genius. Not a book genius per se, although sometimes people can become amazing because of what's inside them. I mean gifts.

What are the bricks that build the walls that box us in? What stops us from taking just one step past the boundaries that people have laid for us in the past?

If you write, what's stopping you from making the most spectacular gift there ever was to be written or read?

If you're a musician, what's stopping you from composing the most beautiful symphony man's ears have heard yet?

If you're a singer what's stopping you from singing out what has been flooding your heart?

If you're an artist, what's stopping you from painting another Sistene Chapel? Or the scene you see through only your eyes that you know words could never describe justly.

If it's dancing, what's stopping you from letting your heart explode into motions?

What stops me from writing what I hear?

It's all around me. All I have to do is listen.

When I ask why some people hear things and some don't, I truly believe the answer is that some are listening and some aren't. Some have the ears to hear, and others, unfortunately, were not blessed with such a gift. I believe once you start hearing or knowing how to hear your music, whatever it is, there is nothing stopping you from doing it all for the glory of God.

I may go write a song ;)

We Meet Again

Well, to say that it feels weird to be here again is an understatement. This is a little emotional for me and I'll try to explain why. Firstly, it's been a while since the last time I wrote here. When I typed the address into the search bar, I was actually surprised that a 404 page didn't show up and that, instead, I saw a familiar title and design come up on the screen. There it was - my own writing, published on a web page I undoubtedly spent hours adjusting and tweaking until it was just right, down to the blue and green squares I painted by hand, scanned into a computer and digitized the old fashioned way with....wait for it.....*Microsoft Paint*. Illustrator? Pshht. Who needs that when you've got the grandmother of graphic design tools for FREE on your receptionist job work computer? (sarcasm, of course. Adobe, baby, I love you.) But even the details and designs of this page speak to the reason why this is emotional for me. All of the things about this blog that ...

Seasons: The Future

So about the future. I obviously don't know it so it makes sense that this one might be a little shorter (or longer-it could logically go either way, I just went with shorter). There are litterally (at least) a hundred different ways it could go. After the internship I'm doing, I might stay on there. Or I might come back here. If I come back here I could work, go away to college, take classes from home, live with my parents, move out with some friends, get some kind of certification and work a more specific job, come back to the office job I have now, etc. Or I could move to CA and live with some family and find a job with some distant cousins. Or I could move to some other random state and adventure there. The list of possibilities goes on and on. What sounds best to me right now is to do one of the aforementioned options that have to do with moving back here but we really will see won't we.

Lipstick marks on coffee cup lids.

This is one of those posts where I'm riskilly honest. The kind where I don't sound politically correct but I hope you'll hear me out. Where I admit things I'm not proud of. Ready? Okay. I used to ABHOR lipstick marks on coffee mug lids (as can be seen in photo below). There, I said it. Now the funny thing to me is that the cup with the lipstick marks on the lid that you see in the picture belongs to none other than yours truly. So let me explain. I used to be the girl who subconsciously thought she was better because she didn't need lipstick to feel pretty or 3 coats of mascara just to leave the house. I was proud to only wear a little bit of makeup (or none at all) and still feel like I looked like my normal, averagely pretty self. When other girls talked about needing to reapply lipgloss or eyeliner, (especially in front of guys) I made it a point to not be lumped into their shallow activity and went out of my w...

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