Straining Sands

So, I’m starting a blog. The word blog is short for weblog, but I see as it kind of appropriate to be just blog. I need to come clean that I mistyped the word “blog” as “blah” in the past, which I also feel is somewhat appropriate. The things I say may come across as “blah blah blah” in a somewhat more forgetful way than Ke$ha’s manor of saying the same thing. But, I guess that’s all good and well.

Recently I had a conversation with my mom about starting a blog. We discussed possibilities of what to even blog about. I confess I could probably babble off about just about anything, so deciding to blog really wasn’t out of a desire to talk about one individual thing, but more the love to write. I love to write. I love to describe. It’s mind blowing and ridiculously exciting to me to learn something new, and to figure out some way to describe it to the people around me.

So… the question remained unanswered. What should I write about? My mom had several ideas. The list began with,“ Write about being in a large family!” Well… hmmm… that could be terribly disappointing as I live over 800 miles away from 8 members of the full 10 for 8 months out of the year. I could see it now. Sitting in my dorm room at Greenville College, beginning a new, fresh blog to start the week.

“Well hello! I’m sitting here, looking at the pictures on my wall, some of which include a sister. I’ll see her in 3 months. Maybe.”

Fail. That wouldn’t work. The second idea came. “What about going to a Christian school!” Hmmm… another thought to consider. I imagined how that could progress. It could be interesting. A lot of people from my school might even read it. I had to visualize the task though. I needed something to imagine to set me in the right tone of mood to decide if this was a winner.

“Today was an average day in the life of a Christian College student. Three people got engaged. This makes seven weddings this summer! Whew… but I guess we gotta keep the percentages up for who meets their spouse at this college. It was a fun evening, and I have a secret. A few of us watched Braveheart. With the door closed. Our RA didn’t catch us though, so we’re still allowed into chapel tomorrow morning.”

Yeah… couldn’t see that one being the best either. But also, for all those who aren’t familiar with the world of Christian Colleges, the above is basically all the stereotypes, some of which are laughably true, other laughably false. I watch movies with the door closed quite often actually :)

Several more ideas flew through the air between my mom and I as we drove Clifford, our Big Red Van, which seats 15. Some may choose to believe I drive this vehicle because it, rightfully so, causes me to look extremely attractive in it. I humbly understand the belief. I understand the jealous looks I get from passers-by.  I don’t know why they all feel the need to beep about it… as if they were trying to disguise their green monsters by pretending to criticize my driving skills…   But the end result of that conversation was that I hadn’t come to any conclusion.

In the next few days, I thought only a little bit about other blog ideas. But mostly just went about my business. This included frequent visits to the sunroom, also known as my favorite room in the house. The piano is in there. No more questions now, I’m sure. I listened to lots of music. Probably danced to the radio more than one might consider necessary. I love the radio. Keeps me young.

Anyway… as I’ve reviewed the standard exploits of a common day, one thing is quite certain. Music is in every day; in my mind, seemingly every moment. To some, music is the sound from a cd, or an ipod, or yes, from my love the radio. And yes! You’d be right. But music isn’t limited to a sound. Not to me. God gave us life. And inside each of us is a heart. And it beats. Just like music! And as long as we live, it will beat. It’s the beat that is sought for in a near death experience. It’s the beat that we can feel when we run out of breath. It’s a beat that washes over us when our faces get warm. We can hear it in our ears in the silence of near slumber.  You can touch it in another’s hand. As long as life endures, it will not stop. Music is in all of us. In some way.

So, am I going to write about music? Maybe. But not necessarily. I love music. But really, what my love for music shows, is I’m just an artist, and all the elements that encompass music are my paints. I’m a songwriter. I’m a writer. I’m a singer. I’m a musician. But I’m an artist. The way I strain through events of the day in my head reveals artistry. And the same is true of seemingly every human being to live a moment or more. How brilliant! A world full of artists! I decided, I, as one of many artists to live and breathe in this world, will write about the things I see worthy of paints. The things I find left in my daily straining. Like the cute little girls on the beach strain through the sand to find the prettiest seashells, will I strain through my own daily sand to turn my pretty shells into my writing.

So, let the straining begin!