Inside the Mind of a Nathan

God’s grace and mercy are bigger than any of our weaknesses, follies, or misfortunes. Let me say it again: God’s goods are always and forever so much bigger than our bads. I can’t tell you how much shit I’ve done. Not like I wouldn’t tell you; I just don’t remember all of it, lol.

Well, daaaaaaang son! If I didn't know any better, I would say I didn't write very often. But let's not get into that just now. Admittedly, I've been considering starting another blog. There are a lot of things I want to say that, well, I feel just can't be said in a pseudo-public blog.

Well well well. Three holes in the ground. I caught up on a few boring tasks. They keep saying do the legacy tasks first. I keep ignoring them. Legacy tasks are hard to complete when you're feeling anxious about bills, notes, emails, and all the rest — but I think that's when the switch will take place. I think that's when I will transition from a young man who writes often into a full-hearted writer. Imagine that.

The world is still tremendous! And I am still rather small. I spoke with a dear friend earlier today who said he is learning how to be small on this vast planet. He said it’s terrifying to embrace that reality. I don’t know if I find it terrifying — but that could perhaps be why I feel so timid so often. I don’t know how to handle the vastness, and I scurry away.

I shall conquer the world! One book at a time! Holy heck, I feel it: the proximity, the nearness.

FTA. Feed the animals. I recently read an article that discussed how to organize your time. Super-summary: The first half of your day should be legacy tasks (things that will push your projects forward, whatever they might be). The second half should be feeding the animals (all the tasks that keep everybody happy, the things that keep the various pots from boiling over).

HOLY HECK But I'm not gonna talk about that right now. In other news, I CLOG MY OWN CREATIVITY.

I've started tutoring a young lady whose writing is even more scattered than mine. I'm really impressed. In other news, a poetry collection is brewing! I decided to go with Untold Tales; that's its working title at the moment anyway. It's a slow process.

Yar! I'm a pirate! AKA, I'm spoofy tired. Not really; I'm just fretting about money. Sparrows, dude: we're worth more than many sparrows. True enough, sparrows live and die, but, in general, they just go and fly and find food and feed their little babies.

Oh snap! Oh snap, oh snap! I just felt angsty about posting a thing! I don't know if I'm supposed to do that. Even in my fictional literature, I'm still gonna bring up edgy topics. I guess it'll be less clear what my stance is since there will be a fine variety of characters. Who knows.

My friends, it has been too long since I've written a purely proper randomizer of a blog post. As it turns out, I'm tempted like every other writer to think that I have to sound spiffy. One of the greatest sources of writer's block  is the addiction to sounding good.

Tuesday! A perfect day for writing. Fun fact: Every day is a perfect day for writing. I am not yet there though. I am not yet in the admirable habit of writing every day — much less during a specific time. Well, I do write every day; I have three journals now in which I write with some regularity. Yadda yadda. In other news: double-crossers...

Someday, I want weekends to be a thing again. Today happens to be one such day: my class and student are off for the holiday weekend, so I have no formal obligations the rest of the day!

For a while now, I've assumed the fire elementals won't communicate verbally — or at least not typically. The earth elementals were simple. The wind elementals resonated so closely with me. I have a pretty strong feeling about who and what the water elementals are.

I pity the people who are addicted to trying to control others. I'm sorry your life feels out of control. I'm sorry you feel powerless. You are an adult, and you are responsible for your choices; you will be held accountable for the evil you purvey. Nevertheless, I am sorry for the pain that led you there, and I pray for you.

I've been thinking about colors. Fun fact: the colors lie on what is called the electromagnetic spectrum . The extent to which we know this spectrum is tremendous! In other words, we see  just a tiny sliver.

It's funny how much fear cripples us. I have so many fears. Slowly — perhaps too slowly — I am learning how to cast them on God and be renewed. Some day, perhaps over a few beers, I can unravel my fears to you. We can both have a good laugh, maybe a good cry, and a few good beers of course.

I never imagined. I mean, I did technically imagine — but I didn't anticipate. I get to talk in front of a small group of students and possibly parents about my tutoring and life coaching!

Have you ever had that feeling where you're tense for whatever reason? Then, have you ever had some fleeting, hopeful thought skip through your mind — and you suddenly feel light?

Greetings! Have you ever heard — or, better yet, asked — " When am I ever going to use this? " ?

Well now! Well now. My cup overflows  (Psalm 23:5). Have you ever received such a lofty gift that you can hardly believe it's for you?

Sometimes, I feel indomitable. Sometimes, I feel so weak. Sometimes, I feel like I'm not supposed to trust God. I am reminded of Isaiah 30:15 "This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: 'In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.' "

Well, my friends! Well, well, well. Three holes in the ground. LOL But seriously, I am moved into my new home, and — while I still have twinges of anxiety about how I have to figure everything out! — I am settling in and refocusing.

There is always so much to say! And then there's always the debate between babbling in no particular direction or sketching another story. I moved this past Saturday. It was an event for which I postponed many things. And not really that "many" things — but just a few big things. Living in a new place has its own adjustments to sink in, but I already feel this slow lean, this cranking pull — like being drawn to the top of a rollercoaster.

Do you ever just feel ultra lazy? Today was a snow day. I woke up way too early, had a lovely chat with my lovely lady, and then wrote some emails.

Oi! Man alive. The world is still so tremendous, and I feel like this little doofus. Sometimes, I feel like a really cool little doofus — but a doofus nonetheless.

Have you heard The Auld Triangle ? There's something about Irish melodies/harmonies that always hit me so hard. I love the melancholy tunes. I love the accent. I love their voices. I want to sing like that some day.

My friends, the world is so tremendous. So tremendous! My neck is sore, I still don't sleep well, I don't own the world yet, but my heart is wider and deeper than I ever expected it could be!

Do you know how big the world is? It's all the big. It's frikkin huge. Like HUGE. It grinds my gears whenever anyone says, "small world." I'm like, "No, Laura, it's a small county, and you've never been outside the state."

As much as I want it to work, it's tough to write while listening to music. However, I recently saw "The Greatest Showman." Mr. Barnum's true history aside, it was an inspiring movie! The music itself is inspiring! Each song is passionate, and almost every song is about breaking through barriers, rewriting one's story, daring to dream, trying again, and not giving up!

Here's the thing: I love writing. It's not quite the same with pen and paper. My handwriting is pretty sad, and it doesn't feel as smooth. It feels realer, flesh-and-blood-er — but typing is faster and smoother. There's something especially satisfying about knowing what I want to say, and letting my fingers tap against the little letters that express a thingy.

PARADOXES They happen. Irony too. I'm so nervous about irony though! Apparently, it has some precise definition, and I'm half-sure I always misuse it. For example, the song "Ironic" by Alanis Morisette is not ironic. "Rain on your wedding day" etc. are just unfortunate. Irony is something special that I don't understand.

For my writing class, I've been trying to encourage my students to dump out their figurative insides. I believe, when all the insides — all the emotions and fears and hopes and hates and miseries and passions and all — are out in plain sight, a writer can then truly begin to work. One of my students remarked that he would prefer to process things with his intellect — as opposed to his feelings. In an email, he shared some of his past that reminded me of my past.

My brain has exploded. My brain is exploding. Like in the movies when a planet or a star explodes, my brain is having those recurring blasts: one boom, then everything collapses inward, then a bigger boom, then implosion, then BA-BA-BOOM. Except it's still going.

HOLY MOLY I feel like Michael the Traveler! I keep blasting through worlds, and I barely have enough time to adjust to the last before I'm thrown into yet another new one! Perhaps that's the lesson I'm exploring as I write about that boy: the world around him changes, and all he can do is learn to embrace it and learn to control himself. The world is changing — and it's terrifying. What's even more terrifying, however, is the pervasive perspective that nothing has changed. It has been said many different ways by many different people, but it was said at least one way by George Santayana: Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. Fun fact: I was at Starbucks, but I had to go to the library because I couldn't concentrate, and they were giving away free books! I acquired "Mixed-up Magic" by Joanna Cole and "Anno's Mysterious Multiplying Jar" by Masaichiro and Mitsumasa Anno! "Mixed-up Magic" seems li...

I dream! I dream of a quiet, little box where I can write eternally! The utter, utter dream is to have a quiet, big veranda near the beach so that I can hear the ocean waves splash across the way — but I would settle for a quiet, little box. I tried. I tried to describe it to a friend. The world is opening up. It has dangers as well of course — but it also has delights. I can't! I can't describe it properly. Perhaps I already have. I've ranted so many times now about how my life has unfolded into more dimensions: black-and-white to color, flat to formed, muted to musical, blurry to crisp. Yesterday, I realized that some of my insane feelings are because I don't have paths anymore.

Holy snap, crackle, pop. I'm going to teach a creative writing class ! And I can't tell you how exciting it is! I dream! I dream of filling the world with literature: mine, yours, everyone's!

Oh my. Quite a lot has happened since I last wrote to you, my friends. Christmas and New Years were big events. I definitely had the Christmas blues — or whatever phenomenon hits some people during various holidays. I cannot tell you how often I've entered some unfortunate state of mind and lamented to myself: "Am I gonna be like this forever?! I'll never be happy again! Woe is me!" Etc. And then the season ends, and I feel normal again, and I try to remind myself how many times I've gone through that drama.