Wed, Dec. 3
... No matter what I've got
Hmmm. Lots on my mind. Lots of interesting discussions and dreams and thoughts lately.
So. NaNo's over, and I didn't finish this year. It was just too crazy. But it wasn't a failed month. It wasn't futile; it was just successful in a different way than last year was.
I didn't finish, and I'm okay with it.
Huge thing for Little Miss Competitive here. But it was a good month. I got a lot done, and I wrote despite everything else that was going on, even though I didn't write nearly as much as I should/could have.
Spiritually, it was a good month, and that's something I've learned to be thankful for. I went through a period where it was far too rare, so now, when it happens, I'm much more thankful for the good times.
I learned a lot for my showcase, I had some great discussions, and I met some really cool people, and I hope you're back next year so we can continue these discussions. :)
I was able to print off an edited second/third-ish draft of last year's novel, and it looks like a real book. Well, it's in a binder, but it's my words, on paper, telling the story that I had to get out. It's sitting on my coffee table now, and people can read it. That's a scary thought.
I was a Municipal Liaison, and I got Calgary together for some really great times, and I hung out with strangers in coffee shops, yet again, making my parents wonder what really is wrong with me. I was stretched out of my comfort zone in terms of making sure this thing happened, and it did. Maybe not always like I thought it would, but it happened, and there's a community because of it.
I found people that know people that I know, and we had a good laugh at how small the world is.
I prioritized. As often as I wanted to just do NaNo instead of everything else, I made myself write papers, go to class, go to rehearsal, work, mount a show, and get enough sleep to keep myself from getting sicker than I already was.
And I did write somewhere around 20,000 words. And if I count my papers and journals and so on, I may have hit 50,000. Maybe not in novel format, but something like that, in just my writing.
And that was November for me.
One year ago today: Not only do we not live like we're forgiven, we don't live like anyone else is, either. We seem to forget that grace doesn't equal perfection, and we expect everyone around us--especially other Christians--to model the perfect lives that we can't seem to master. Then, when they fail, as we so often do ourselves, we point fingers and talk about how that's "no way for a Christian to live."
infinite || abyss
posted at 12:39 p.m.
