Liz's Spot






About Me

O satisfy us in

the morning with

Your lovingkindness,

That we may sing

for joy and be glad

all our days.

Psalm 90:14


Thursday, May 24, 2007


I'm in a bad mood. I'm not sure why. Usually when I'm in a bad mood, it's as much anger with myself as with anyone else. Occasionally not, but often when I'm mad with anyone else, what made me edgy in the first place was being frustrated with myself.

Once I read or heard something that talked about how much you talk or write about yourself. It made me self-conscious in my public writing (even in my journaling, which ought to be private, but sometimes feels public) ever since. The thought went something like this: blur your eyes (or whatever you do to get a overview picture of the text) and notice how much you see the word "I." Isn't it depressing? There isn't much in the second paragraph, but the first paragraph seems rather self-conscious. But then, you say, weren't you writing about yourself? Yes, of course, but is that the problem? I don't know...

But here's another good quote: "The unexamined life is not worth living." That's strong, huh? I would name the author if I could remember it for sure--it might be James MacDonald. So that's why I think about myself. And because I'm a sinful human being and rather self-absorbed.

Boy, it feels good to write. I feel a little bad, placing my negative thoughts and bad mood on the internet. Isn't there enough bad stuff out there without my contribution? And also, I worry that maybe this will be a bad witness to someone--here's a Christian in a bad mood trying to smother some anger in her heart against someone... yep. But if writing is therapy, well, then, here I write. And the anger--well, what do you do with it when the person to whom you would speak is obtuse and totally unwilling to recognize that there is a problem to which they may have contributed? Smother it, I guess. Well, no, that's not the correct answer--come boldly unto the throne of grace so that you may find grace to help in time of need.

Enough. It still feels good to write. Like exercise when you have developed an appetite for it--like recognizing that eating your spinach is good, or that going to bed with a used-muscle tiredness is good, because it means that you lived a day on the good green earth and used your body for something more fulfilling than sitting in front of the computer. Wow. Not about writing anymore. But about writing, I was going to say--it also feels good because even these little pieces of writing make me feel like I'm slowly getting back in the current to pick up momentum toward a goal or a calling, toward actually writing something.

To do something great, or even moderately worthwhile, you have to have a solidness somewhere that believes that you can do something worthwhile. That something you do might be worthwhile. That something you already do or are marginally capable of might be worthwhile.

Clearly I'm at the point where I'm just enjoying hearing the way the words sound. Maybe I should find myself in bed.


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