I Dream Of Sleep

One of the subjects I'm taking at uni this semester is narrative production. In groups we had to nominate a script (written by one of the group members in a previous assessment) and make it into a short film. I was delighted yesterday when my group decided that we would produce my script, Insomniacs.

In the lecture we talked about copyright and using other people's material in our films. Unfortunately my script included the characters singing a song (no, it's not a musical!). So in order to dodge the copyright bullet, we decided as a group that we would make up our own song... or rather, that I would make up a new song! So, that's what I've spent this morning doing- writing a song about sleep (or lack of).

Once we finish the production, I'll post it up, so the lyrics below will make a lot more sense. But for now, enjoy!

I Dream Of Sleep

All I want to do is sleep,

If only I could close my eyes,

But in the end I know I’d weep,

To know you are not by my side.

Oh if only I could sleep,

I’d dream this night away,

If only you were in my arms,

The night would turn to day.

Where are you, my one, my true?

If only you were here tonight

Oh I will sigh and wait for you

‘Til my heavy eyes can shut tight.

Oh if only I could sleep,

I’d dream this night away,

If only you were in my arms,

The night would turn to day.

In the end, the time will be worth it

In the end, we will be strong

In the end, nothing else will matter

In the scheme of things, ‘tis not that long.

Oh if only I could sleep,

I’d dream this night away,

If only you were in my arms,

The night would turn to day.

Materialism

Back in high school, my year twelve english class journeyed on many-a-tangents. My memories dwell not with the curriculum we learnt (because who remembers school work anyway?), but with how we ventured into random topics, even going as far as what it meant to be an emo. I can recall one particular lesson, my English teacher making a very interesting statement about teenagers and mobile phones. That mobiles had become "an extension of the arm." This thought has come back to me every so often, mainly when I'm in the city. 
I feel that there is a new evolution to the human body in recent years. That of the iPod. I am so intrigued by this, that I decided to include it in Seasons. "Their iPod’s were like an abnormal growth out of their ears, permanently attached after many years of the body accepting the symbiotic relationship."
How does such a thing come about? We went from having home phones to "bricks", to your iPhone of today... and then where did the cassette player go? It's people searching for more and more. They wouldn't need to if they had true fulfillment in our God. Only He can fill the hole in our hearts; the hunger, the yearning inside.

Satisfaction

Customer satisfaction is hard to come by,

When consumers raise the bar every time.

Always wanting, expecting more,

And everyone goes home empty inside.

We fool ourselves thinking that this time will be different.

Full of longing, hopes held high.

And still the disappointment rains on our parade,

Washing away our dreams, 

Leaving us with a little hole that nothing seems to fill.

We all know the answer.

We know where to go.

We all know the question to ask,

And who to ask it to.

So tell me, why don't we?

A Seed Of Hope

It's been a while, I know, however writing has been in a different form as of late. University calls for a mind blazing with ideas, and yes they have come flooding in. The problem being that the hours required in study plus the celebration of a significant birthday bring about a certain level of exhaustion- and being tired finds it hard for inspiration. It is incredible how much freer a person feels when they aren't rushing around from one place to another. I can recall only a month ago, before Uni started for the year, just how much easier it was to be creative. I fear for the completion of my novel in the time period I have allocated myself- December is looming!

Thus, it calls for a seed of hope:

In every hug there is a little bit of love.

In every laugh there is a hint of happiness.

In every dream there is a seed of hope.

In every today there is a thought for tomorrow.

No matter the person, the place, the thing,

No matter the church that brings the ring,

No matter the child that waves goodbye,

No matter the good times that make you cry.

Don't ever doubt the goodness in this world,

Just look to the Heavens you will see the reward.

He has a great plan in mind for you-

The most perfect one in fact: it's yours to pursue.

Something A Little Different

My eyes have been widened in the last few weeks and I feel the need to share it, rather than my usual banter about writing. Disaster seems to be left, right, and centre. It’s in countries far from reach, but it also feels as close as my back pocket.

There has been destruction happening in the Middle East for years, but the coverage of car bombs and dead soldiers has been increasing steadily on the TV screen as we’ve watched.

My wake up call to natural disasters began in 2004 when the tsunamis hit the Indian Ocean. The reason being that I was actually in Thailand at the time when it happened and was meant to be in Phuket (one of the places in Thailand that was wiped out), but due to a series of circumstances, I holidayed safely in Pataya (a sheltered cove close to Bangkok). From then on I have paid closer attention to the scary thunderstorms, unusual weather patterns, things like the black Saturday bushfires in NSW, and more recently, the earthquake disaster in Haiti.

Then there is the daily tragedy of people dying in third world countries from disease, malnutrition, and other things that the rest of us take for granted. Not to mention the fact that abortion is now an accepted practice in many places and pregnancies are being treated as “unwanted problems”.

As much as these things break my heart and make me wonder where all the goodness is gone in the world, what tugs at my heart the most (and likely the same for many others) is those things that are happening to the people around me, those people who I know personally and care for deeply. It started with an acquaintances mother passing away. Then a family friend contracted cancer. And then another with cancer, another having surgery, and then another had a heart attack.

I always thought myself lucky to not have experienced the extreme illness or death of a loved one- or myself for that matter. Especially when I knew that others around me had to deal with tragedy after tragedy. And even though these things have been happening gradually (with natural disasters and the like), it still has been a bit of a shock to the system and shaken me up a bit. It makes me wonder what there is left to be done- what could I possibly do to help? For those far away, it just seems too big, too many people. And as for those much closer, how could any of my words or actions be enough? I feel there is only one thing left to give: prayers. Unceasing prayers for the needy- whether it be in basic human needs of safety, shelter, food, love, or belongingness.

I have been given a blessed life so that I can offer this simple thing for these people. It may not be the only thing I can offer, but I can offer it at any time of any day- so can you and anyone else. It’s as simple as the few words, “Lord be with them.” And what would bring Him greater pleasure than to receive, not only our prayers for His people, but also the gratitude for the blessed lives we live- no matter the difficulties faced? I suppose the key is that life is always blessed with the presence of the Lord in it. And we should be thankful for that alone. Anything else is a bonus.

Fail Me

It’s interesting writing a book and suddenly deciding that you want to include a character with an accent- and then trying to write their words with that accent. For example in chapter 3 (yes, my dear audience, I am up to chapter 3!) I have written in a young British male. He uses such words as “innerested” and “attenshun”. What's even more interesting is how this book seems to be taking ME on a journey, rather than the other way around. What I mean to say is, I used to look down at writers who wrote blindly and let the ending just "happen". They didn't plan, they didn't organise, they didn't brainstorm everything beforehand... they just started writing. A brilliant example of this is the writers of Lost (the TV show). They keep adding sub-plots in, not knowing how they are going to pull it all together in the end- well, until this series (or so they tell us). Anyway, now I can properly appreciate these writers. I'm experiencing similar things. The story almost has a mind of its own, and even though I have it all planned out (ending and all), it's the little bits in between that are surprising me. The characters are acting differently to how I had imagined they would! I learnt at Uni the other day that this is actually a good thing. They are being unpredictable. It is a sign of good writing. Props to me :)

Evelyn is currently in a state of not knowing what she wants to be. Does she want to be noticed? Does she want to be nonexistent? The confusion is preventing her from excelling. This piece of prose I wrote is quite similar to the emotions that Evelyn is going through (minus the "God component").

Fail Me

Running doesn’t work anymore.

Who am I kidding? It never did.

Human instincts fail me again.

I feel

Helpless.

Hopeless.

Unwanted.

Rejected.

When will I be good enough?

Or is that the point?

Only to one will I ever be.

People will always disappoint you,

But my God, no,

He is steadfast and unfailing.

He will never let me down-

The only one I can trust,

The only one I can count on.

I keep my eyes on watch,

Looking out for Him

As I hide in the cracks in the wall

But I am not invisible- or am I?

I try, but instincts fail me again.

It's About Time I Was Honest With You

I like describing things. Not verbally, but writing them down. And I love putting something I see in my mind onto paper for others to then imagine. Today I spent an entire paragraph just describing what one of the characters in Seasons was wearing. She was a rather oddball kind of character- a lot of fun to "dress"... I'm talking missmatched clothing, chunky gold jewellery, and a chiffon "tail". I rather enjoyed putting her together!

I've decided, that in order for this book to oneday be completed, that I need to commit to writing at least three A4 pages every week. There are approximately 44 weeks left in this year. That means that if I stick to my commitment, there are 132 more pages to write. That's 132 more pages of goodness, if you ask me! :)

Anyway, I wish to point out something about my shorter peices now. I've been very picky when it has come to sharing what I write. So many of my peices are very vulnerable and illuminate some of the darker times of my life. However, in being so raw and honest, they are some of the most poetic that I have written. So today is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship between this blog and my "past" so to speak. I want to share this side of myself with you- all in the name of good literature!

But you will notice that these peices reek of self-disgust and loathing. I would like to point out that it is merely an attempt to guide my way through my innermost thoughts and desires, unraveling them in wonder at how someone could think such dark thoughts. In the moment of writing, I allow my thoughts to come tumbling onto the page, I've no idea how they end up sounding so poetic, as I'm just being brutally honest with myself... afterall, I am my own worst critic. So, do not be alarmed that I am mentally unstable, or stuck in a whirlwind of self-pity, or stepping down the ladder into depression. I can safely vouch for my own sanity :) but I just wanted to allude to the facts of how and why my short peices of writing came into being.

Now that I think about it, I've been reading some of St. Augustine's "Confessions" recently and have noticed this self-disgust in his own writings. Perhaps I'm just being human. Anyway, a brilliant example of this is a peice I wrote in February last year:

The noise is fogging my thoughts.

Words escape me-

All I can do is stare.

Autopilot.

Mental riot.

My brain wrecks havoc.

This war I cannot bare.

Time passes and yet nothing changes-

The thoughts,

The feelings,

The pain.

It lingers, hiding amongst the cloud.

I'm nothing more than a fence sitter.

I don't even know how to surrender.

Where is the exit?

Where is the off switch?

How do I escape this hell that is mine?

Seasons of life

As you continue to read my musings, a certain theme will begin to emerge... a pattern. Nature. It is the Lord's creations that stimulate me the most. I experience great love from Him through the beauty of this world. The contrast between a grey sky and green treetops, a dazzling sunset, a field of grain blowing in the breeze, the stars twinkling brightly from above, a flower in full bloom... These things warm the cockles of my heart and make me feel so alive. What I love most about nature is how it is ruled by the seasons- and it is this that you will find in my writings. The difference a leaf looks, acts, feels, in spring, compared to that of autumn.. or the non-existence of them in winter... such a wonder. I love it! It's no wonder my book will be titled "A Season For Everything." Out lives are ruled by similar seasons. Cold and dark like the winter, or bright and joyful like summer- it is constantly changing.

As I continued to write Seasons last week, the story deepening, the "plot" thickening... it took upon a summertime full of thunderstorms and heaviness that only comes from humidity, matching that of the "heavy" heart of the main character, Evelyn. The story starts out in a rather depressing state, but unfortunately this is necessary. I'm looking forward to getting onto the more "beautiful" parts of the book. However, that is still some way away, because what follows summer? Autumn. And what follows autumn? Winter. And it will not be until the springtime that beauty will truly arise (in the story at least)... however I cannot deny that even in the midst of a dark and cold winter, beauty is in abundance!

So, I share with you now this very thing- beauty in the midst of darkness- a dark season of my own life, last autumn. It's a little bit of a prayer. Enjoy!

May

The first leaf of autumn has fallen

And I find myself thinking of You.

I try to picture Your face

But the cold morning mist covers my vision.

I know You are there.

Sometimes.

Always.

Everywhere.

Except all I can see is black nothingness.

It consumes me,

Envelopes me,

Takes me.

Where are You, my Love, when I most need You?

They tell me that You are always with me.

But I find myself doubting.

Why do I forget You are there?

Give me the gift of faith, O Lord.

So that I might forever believe

That Your love is greater than any other.

That the leaves were made for me.