Dreams

Let's start with a single statement of the obvious: dreams are weird. I think we can all agree on that one. I mean, half the time you're falling from an infinite height into an eternal abyss, the other half you're standing naked in your high school speech class, am I right?

Of course, that's a gross simplification. Emphasis possibly on gross. I mean, most people don't remember many of their dreams. I know I don't. I can count the dreams I recall from my 26 years of life on one hand. Now, one was when I was a kid and just kinda strange (features Droopy the Dog and the house from Casper the Friendly Ghost - please, don't ask; I was five).

One, and probably the most disappointing, was one of those half-awake dreams, and I recall vividly watching a brand new episode of Firefly, possibly from the second season. Unfortunately, there are no new episodes of Firefly, much less a season 2, and I couldn't remember what the plot was about after I got up. Still gets me a little sad thinking about it...

The other two, however, were more significant. Each one gave me a touch of insight into my relationship with my now wife. I won't go into any details here, but I remember each one as if I lived it, even in their strange details - one took place at UAH, but the building was the church I went to back home - and learned some important things that helped me not long afterwards.

So when, this morning, I woke up suddenly to my alarm, remembering only that I'd had a very vivid dream but not having any of the content, I was a tad frustrated. Because dreams are more than just strange visions of your subconcious (though they can be that at times). They are important ways you can learn more about the world you live in, and how you should relate to it.

Follow-up: Worry isn't worth it

So, yesterday I wrote a post about worry, and job interviews, and all that jazz. Well, first off, the Lord does work in His own ways and time, and I now have a new job! Was quite amazed and a little shocked at how fast it all happened, feels a little like a dream, but it really happened.

Which brings me to my point: all that worrying I did last week was for nothing. I was so worried that the other job would take me away from things I felt I needed to do, from things I wanted to do, and it turned out not to matter. I knew the other job would give me and Alicia more in the way of financial security, and it would have given me a little more downtime to recover, but the trade-off was just too great in my mind, which is what was making me fret over it.

But now, none of that is an issue. I truly believe the Lord was with me through it all. I was so much more confident during the interview itself, I actually didn't worry about it beforehand much. And I was hired literally less than an hour after the interview was over. I was just so blessed through the entire process that it had to be the Lord's hand involved.

So, the biggest point is: what did I learn? I learned that worry doesn't change anything, and when looks like my best option is horrible, there just may be a better one coming along the pipeline. Patience may be hard, but there's a reason why it's a virtue.

I Worry Too Much...

Does anyone else hate interviews? I know I do. I've got another one today that I think is for an even better job than last week's was. Does it have it's own issues? Of course, but I think it would be better for me long term.

But to come to the point: I worry about it. I chalk it up to the fact that I think too much. Whenever something comes up, I always analyze it, try and figure out possible outcomes and how it could affect how I live my life, those around me, what have you. And, as is possibly inevitable, those scenarios are usually decently grim.

I try and be a positive person. I let the bad things roll off my shoulders whenever possible. But when I'm coming up to a big decision point - like a job interview - all I'm able to do is think and ponder and worry about it.

And that really, really bites.

Yesterday, I posted Proverbs 12:25 on my Facebook page: "Worry weighs a person down; an encouraging word cheers a person up." Two days before, I posted a very similar passage from Luke 12. You'd think that, with all the Bible has to say about worry - in a word: don't - I'd be able to move past it. And I'm trying to, I really am.

But for now, all I can do is pray that what should be will be, and try and turn my mind off for a while. So glad that I have absolutely no downtime at my current job... wait a minute... ;)

Time to work on some more Tau lists...

Thankful Thursdays: Family

So, I'm going to steal a page from my sister over at Quad Deuce Design and start a (hopefully) weekly series. Every Thursday, I'm going to tell you about something I'm thankful for, whether it be something big and grand such as family or being Christian, or something mundane like a book or even that cup of coffee I had that morning. But, beginnings are times to take the greatest of care, so we'll start of big.

I have the best family in the world. You're entitled to your own opinion, of course, but that doesn't change mine. They are all just incredibly awesome.

Since I metioned her already, I'll start with my sister, Marianne. A couple years older than me, she's a graphic designer with a publishing company up in Nashville, and is one of the most caring people you will ever meet. She is friendly despite several hardships she's been through recently, and is a strong Christian despite (or maybe in spite, or even because of) all that has happened. She's always busy, however, as she runs a stationery company on the side, Quad Deuce Design. She does awesome work, though; there's a reason we used her for my wedding not so long ago!

Next we'll come to my dad, Thomas. He is simply put the strongest man I know. Not in a physical sense, but in the ways that matter. He was always a pillar we could hold on to when troubles came when we were younger, strong in his faith. He did the best he could to help raise Marianne and me right, and I at least think he did a pretty good job. Enough so that when the worst happened, we were able to help support him as much as he supported us.

My mom, Theresa, died in 2009. I'll never forget how I felt when dad called me early that Sunday morning and told me. But that doesn't overshadow the memories I have of one of the kindest women you'll ever meet. My friends as we grew up all called her "Mama Callis", becuase she was a mom to them as much as to me, always being there for us and with us when she was able. She loved to give of herself, volunteering when she could, bringing food to the sick or even just as gifts from time to time because she loved it. I miss her dearly, but know that she's watching and caring for me still.

More recently, I've got someone else I can call family: my beautiful wife Alicia. We met at college, working in the same office on campus for a while. She is so kind and sweet, and a wonderful cook. She makes me feel better when I'm down, keeps me sane when I'm trying to fall apart, and keeps me honest when I don't do things I said I would. I love her so much, and sometimes still can't quite believe that she said yes.

So, anywho, there you have it: my family is amazing, and I can't believe how blessed I am to call them mine.

Conundrum

So I've kinda gone off on a Warhammer tangent, haven't I? Time to swing back around to all that other stuff I promised in that first post.

Ever since I was a kid, I've considered myself a writer. I'm pretty decent at it; not New York Times Bestseller level, maybe, but I'm not bad. I have a knack for storytelling that could only have been given by God. Even now, when I think of who and what I am, one of the first words to come to mind is 'writer'.

So I find myself bothered by the fact that I haven't written a word of fiction in weeks.

I know why it is. Working an early morning shift leaves me exhausted when I get home, and I struggle between work, trying to spend as much time as I can with my wonderful new wife, and still have something resembling a social life. I just don't get a chance to sit down and write like I want to. I even have a story half-finished that I need to complete for a submission deadline. I just can't motivate myself to get it done.

So why am I sitting here doing a blog when I should be doing that, you ask? Because I'm trying to set up habits. If I can make myself write for a little while every day, even about something so meta as writing, then maybe I can discipline myself to get my stories finished. To tell what it is I want to tell. Because if I wait on the mood, I'm going to be waiting a long, long time.

Or at least until I get a job not on the freakishly early shift.