Thinking Out Loud

I was watching "The End of the Affair" the other day, and among other things, something Ralph Fiennes' character narrates stuck with me:

"Pain is easier to write. In pain, we're one drab individual. But what can one write about happiness?"

Songs come easier to me when I want to express a less happy emotion.
My heart breaks and cries out for God when I don't seem to be fitting the mould the circumstances around me have formed.
Pain is easier to write.

This is not always true. Send me out in the middle of nowhere with pen and paper, where nature surrounds, and my worshiping heart will spill out rivers of ink on the sheets of paper.

What I'm really getting at, I suppose, is that right now, everything is pretty fine.
It's a strange place to be at, when God does give you the desires of your heart. I don't want to be left content and stagnate, it's just strange to me when God simply remains faithful to me and His promises.

So I feel like I have nothing to write about. Besides a continual 'thank you'.

University started again on Monday, my weekly 10 hours haven't killed me yet. In fact, I'll be starting a photographic project soon, which sounds exciting. We'll be using a dark room to develop our own pictures and will be taught about photojournalism too, so it all should be rather dandy.

I'm in a new house this year. It's beautiful to be in a house filled with peace, as opposed to last year. It's good to feel at home when you get back to your house.

I was at a friend's "do" last night, for the launch of his first full-length cd. It was touching to see him on stage and be so transparent with his audience; it gave me a new appreciation of him and his music. You can sample some of his stuff right here if you wish to do so.

Autum is right on our doorstep: I can feel its chill and notice its golden tint strewn across the earth and sky.

I was reading an excerpt of Hellen Keller's autobiography which recounts the first time she starts naming the things around her. It reminded me of how used to and blase we can become with our surroundings. I've got my camera by my side as of today, to capture various moments of this season which is sweeping by, like every other year, but is still made up of unique days.

"We walked down the path to the well-house, attracted by the fragrance of the honeysuckle with which it was covered. Someone was drawing water and my teacher placed my hand under the spout. As the cool stream gushed over one hand, she spelled into the other the word water, first slowly, then rapidly. I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the motion of her fingers. Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten - a thrill of returning thought; and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that "w-a-t-e-r" meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free! There were barriers still, it is true, but barriers that could in time be swept away. I left the well-house eager to learn. Everything had a name, and each name gave birth to a new thought. As we returned to the house every object which I touched seem to quiver with life."


My ears are currently seduced by: Woodface - Good Morning Hope