Moved.

Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that I've moved here, I'd love for you guys to come and continue to share in my crazy life :)

piano

I play the piano.

I love it.

Recently, the piano hasn't been loving me back,

which really means I haven't been loving the piano enough.

Gone are the days of chording,

when I could pick my favorite song and jam.

(well, they're not gone, but they're not (supposed to be) priority)

This girl is being classically trained by a very good classical teacher.

I'm not going to lie, that comment I made earlier about the piano not loving me back, which really means I'm not loving it enough....that wasn't just something funny I thought up.

It's a metaphor...(I think).

A true one.

I'm struggling.

I'm not the most patient person.

All this necessary stuff (that I also think is necessary) I just want to throw out the window some days.

I feel a love-hate thing going on.

I want so much to be able to play amazingly.

BUT I JUST WANT TO PLAY.

My teacher is beyond patient.

People used to tell me I was naturally gifted with the piano when I was younger.

I think they were lying. (say in a flat-funny voice.....like Louis on Princess and the Frog about playing on the riverboat)

Thinking back, the little bit of training I had, playing seemed so much easier.

Here I am, almost grown up and I can't play a piece to save my life.

The world is ending.

I am dying.

Que sad song.

******

Hey, but I'll be okay.

I was told that things are harder to pick up when you get older.

So, if you're having a tough time with something, I feel you.

I will sympathize with you.

Practice.

Practice.

Practice.

Practice.

That helps.

I'm telling myself to practice.

My schedule's busy and I have tons of other things to do, but it's jut like everything else in my life that's important, I gotta make time.

***************

If you are guessing this is a pep-talk, you are right.  

Well that and a steam-letter-offer.

Life goes on.

I'll be good eventually.

I'm going to go practice now. 

Learning to fly....

(via pinterest)

... ...it's not just some childhood memory that I hold near and dear to my heart.  It's not those years when I was taught right from wrong (although I think that goes on forever) or when I was made aware of just how strange a place the world is.

       It's not just was not, it is.  

      The "was" was only part of the learning.
      Try to stay with me.

      The times when my parents held my hand while I looked over the edge of the nest, I got closer and closer, never quite ready to let go, none of the three of us were, really.  I had time, more than enough time.  I didn't have let go.  I really wanted to, though.  I thought I was ready, more than ready.  I was big enough. 

      But I didn't know anything.  How would I?  All the things I had experienced were gone, I had outgrown them.  I forgot the dangers, what was really out there.  I don't know how, really.  Too many things had happened that showed me what was really out there.  But the world will never change, well it will, but only for the worst, that's what will never change, it's corruptness.

      Things have changed more in the last year for me than they ever have before.  As I get older, I believe more and more every day that wisdom comes with age (with the exception of those abnormally wise people).  Things are making much more sense and I am not (so easily) deceived by the world. (Most) of the "magic" in everything is proving to be just a childhood fancy.  Reality...it's not a movie.  Things are real...and a bit scary.  And I'll soon have to walk right into the middle of all of it.
      I see the message the world gives, " just push your fears aside and go; be brave, you can do anything you want, by yourself, just go."  And it sounds right, right?  To me, as I think it over, no.  I think our fear is something that keeps on bringing us back to God.  There is something deep down in all of us that just knows that we can't do anything quite on our own.  I'm being shown again and again that I cannot do things on my own.  Every person pictures it that way, I know.  We all want to be able to say we're independent, able to make it on our own.  It's a pride thing.  But, we can't.  We need God.

"For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not, I am the one who helps you.” Isaiah 41:13

     All these things that I had been waiting for are getting closer, and now I don't want them to, and I can't do anything to stop them from coming.  I don't know what's coming up in the next couple of years, and yes, it's scary and I can't do it on my own, but I don't have anything to worry about...because I'll just keep holding onto His hand. 

this morning...

     ...I wake up, and hope that everything will still be dark, and quiet.  

     It is, I'm relieved.  And then I see a light.  No.  The worst has happened.  The holidays are over and I won't be able to escape seeing 6:00 AM for a while, at least.  I jump back into bed and try to escape reality and the fact that I will have to get up, for real.  Eventually, as in five minutes later, I get up, grab my iPod to find my little yellow folder, shuffle on my robe, find some fuzzy socks, and stumble down stairs looking as gorgeous as ever. (such is the life of a little home schooled girl)
     We read all five chapters of James.  I will talk the least amount possible (so if you don't like chatter, catch me at 6:00 AM in the morning), I will hide as much as possible, and eventually Dad will ask me to repeat myself because I'm talking to the table.
     It's Bible, and as much as I don't like to get up early, I know it will benefit me, and it does most times.
     Upstairs  (pictured above) I just sit and read what some lovely people have to say, look for some more lovely stuff to read, read my Jane Austen devotional, and ultimately feel ready to face the day, which is always what I look for.
     Downstairs (again) I  make some tea, attempt to read some children's literature (Understood Betsy by Dorothy Canfield Fisher) (and I suggest you read some, if you don't already, because children's literature is wonderful, well most of it anyway).  And all of this is done while listening to cartoons and the chatter of nine other people (well eight actually, my sister was tucked up in a corner, reading).