If this was my last week (Challenge)

Trigger alert: This is sad

This morning I was given the challenge to contemplate, and then write down what I would do if I knew that I had seven days, then I'd die.

I've always lived with the reminder that this could be my last day, last week, last month. So in some ways, not much would change, in others... I think I'd do things very differently.

My first reaction would probably be relief. Seven days. Seven final days then that's it? No more pain, no more sickness, nothing? No more worries about the future, what I'd eat, drink, wear, live in... Nobody can do anything else to me. Even if I knew that death was fire or the electric chair... I don't think I'd care. I'd simply be relieved that this life is finally over.

Then, I'd set to work.  I would make out a list of all the people I've been meaning to write letters to, and write them. I'd tell them about the little things I'd observed in their lives, and also stress to them just how important it is to act with wisdom in each and every day's situation. Not every child's would be the same, What I'd tell Po, would in no way match what I'd tell Star or Tadpole. But I'd sit down and make sure they were all written.

Next, I'd sit down and write my different story ideas down in a notebook with as many details as I'd want in there.

After that, I'd probably go sit on the bridge, or out in a meadow by myself and just watch the birds, and butterflies. I'd spend time taking pictures and just enjoy the fresh air.

Then, I'd go home. Blast the police's rules to the moon. I'd go home. Even if it wasn't for long, I'd take a walk to all those places I loved as a child, and at some point join my family in a pile and watch a video... don't care what. Just be together would be the only thing that was important.

I think it'd be at this point the realization that I had such short amount of time left would hit me. Really really hit me. The video would go off and I'd cry into my sister's shoulder. Probably wail. Morning at just how little I get to see them. And... how soon I'd have to say goodbye until they followed me.

That night I'd probably would write blog post, after blog post. I'd message all my friends. I'd tell them just how much each one means to me. How much they've done for me. I'd apologize to all of them for my shortcomings, and forgive them for any wrongs they'd done. I'd pray for them like I never have before that they'd come to Christ, and be with me. Because I know this is it. I'd probably pray clean into the night. Each of their needs being brought before God... I think the hardest thing for me is knowing I'll watch so many of them go to hell. I have a few Christian friends, but here, I wouldn't care if they never spoke to me again. I'd bring them the gospel with every ounce of passion I possess in my body.

At some point, I'd probably crash, the next day I'd be drained and utterly exhausted. So I'd rest. Maybe paint, or journal. But keep to myself. If I ate anything, It'd be because somebody made me.

At some point, I'd visit WR... again something I'm not allowed to do because of the county. I'd spend the day grooming horses, and just enjoying my time with them.

That night I'd have chocolate ice cream. Two no-nos in one.

In the between times of not going, I'd probably still be writing. Probably sit down and write in my journal how I'd want my funeral to go.... then, I'd call up my aunt, and ensure I had time to sit down with B, and sew with her.

I'd dance, and sing, and be myself. Wouldn't care who was watching, or what they'd thought.

But when the final night came, there would be a level of grief, and a level of joy. I can't wait to be free of my pain. I can't wait to see heaven. I can't wait to spend time with my other siblings. I'd want my baby sister there. If she could be. And in those final moments... I'd be content. Yeah, I'd not achieved all I wanted to get done in my life. But most of those things are notions, and pies in the sky I'd hurt because I wouldn't have my family anymore... but I don't anyways at the moment. So no difference.

Mostly, I'd live moment by moment. Enjoying the nature, and the people around me. Eagerly awaiting the next life. Not much different than I do already.

With having one week, and only one week with my little sister... those final two days I was with her, but it was very little in the way of projects. I just wanted her close. But the emotion kept overwhelming me so I'd go on a walk to cool off. I'd probably do the same here. Not wanting my family and friends to see just how much losing them was tearing me up.

Alright, so that was... upsetting. Honest, I did cry. It's not a pleasant thing to think about. Death is a two-edged sword. I'd probably pray that God would give me a few more months. Just so I could make sure I had everyone covered, and had time to write a few poems I've been putting off. No way I could cover everything. But if I were to be given a week... that's what I'd try to do with it.

So, to pass this challenge along. I nominate Kelcy and Erudessa, and Kendra. If you had one week to live, what would you do with that time?

Cowgirl Out

The Study-Room Void

Slowly I make my way into the Library of Ooladada, collapsing into a private study nook onto a giant stack of pillows. I'd call it a mountain, but since Ooladada really did have a pillow mountain, this is a molehill.

I'm rambling. I knew I was rambling... know? I am... I grumble again at nothing more than my stupid self.

"Two Weeks! Are you ever going to talk to me again?" I say up into the rafters. The room is silent, deadly silent. I sigh, curling up into a ball. "Why have you left me? Why... why are you silent? What have I done that you've stopped talking to me?"

Still, the room is silent. The walls still lined with books, the lone table also as if the previous pupal had meant to come back, but hadn't yet.

"Where is Writus when you need him?" I grumble to myself. The Giver is silent, the Guardians are silent, the keepers are silent!" I suddenly stand throwing a pillow across the room.

Immediately, I regret it. "Oh, Father... what am I doing?" The silence continues to be deafening, clenching my eyes tight shut I want to scream, yell, shout... something. Anything? For a moment, I am tempted to bring one of my characters in... maybe Steady Wing... I reject the idea almost as fast as it had been brought to mind.

So we sit in silence. A clock ticks. A fan turns on. A lone beetle crawls over a page.

"I used to wonder how I could live without my vices... ya' know... I kept running from you in order to fill myself with them." I pause to contemplate. "But.... after these past two weeks... Father, I'm sick of this! I hate this silence. Even with my vices... they make me just feel ick. You, I felt known, pure.... perfect. Like nothing here really mattered. I... Father... I miss that peace. I have never ached for something like this before in my life. Driven... tied... greed... hunger.... but in it, I always am looking for that next high. If it's the reading of a sad book... or eating way too much sugar. I'm always just looking for that next... thing. With that- closeness. Abba I want that! I want that back so badly! Where are you?"

I nearly burst into tears. The room feels all the more still, silent... empty. "Where are you?"

"Oh child, my child.... why do you torment yourself so much?" I could feel the voice, but... no. it was in the same room.

"Abba?"

"When you are weak, then I make you strong, when you are down, then I lift you up. When times get hardest, that's when I speak loudest."

"I'm not home yet!" I nearly yell. "Why did you forsake me for those two weeks?"

Again he's quiet, but I feel driven to look at the book on the table. Picking up, I realize it's my journal. I am almost angry, but God's God, and this is in his library. He must have set this up beforehand. As I pick it up, it turns to a page almost on its own...

"March 6th... Another day of Blessings...

Wow Lord, Just... wow..."

I'm instantly humbled, as my eyes glaze over what I had written. It was a day of provision. Of blessing... of opportunity to do something great. Something I had almost not done because I hate talking to people. But it turned out to be such a day of blessing.

"It is progress, a new house, and blessings will be coming out our ears. Lord, Thank you for giving me your Song." Matt, 22:37-39.  Jesus said to him, You shall Love the LORD your God with all your heart, soul, and mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it, you shall love your neighbor as yourself."

I close the book, biting my lip. "Abba?"

"Do you not understand?"

"No..." I admit. "This is all just.... Blast... Forget it.... Thanks for letting me be with my sister for an extra two days."

"Child... come here." For the first time in two weeks, my eyes fall upon him. "Oh, Abba!" My feet carry me to him, breaking down in tears. "I'm tired of being alone!

"Shhh child," For a while, he lets me just cry into his shoulder.

Finally my tears slow down. I still ache, probably will break down again. But for the moment, I'm done. For even longer, he just holds me, letting me feel his strength and protection.

"What is your favorite verse." He asks me.

"There are a lot of good ones," I admit

Instantly, I could feel his disappointment.

"I will cover you with my feathers, I will shelter you with my wings, my promises are your armor of protection.

"He who keeps Israel doesn't slumber nor does he sleep.

"The Lord is my light and my Salvation, whom shall I fear, the Lord is the strength of my life, of whom shall I be afraid?"

"When was the last time you read my words?"

"This afternoon."

"That's a lie child. The truth."

I bit my lip thinking. "Well, I listened to Carmon this afternoon... kinda... yesterday in church a bit."

"Not for church, for yourself?"

"I was reading Jerimiah..." I admit. "Before that Ezekiel... some out of Daniel..."

"Very good child, that's better. When was the last time you picked it up?"

"Probably last Tuesday..."

"So a week..." He asked me. It wasn't condescending, just stating a fact. But I felt like the biggest failure.

"V... why are you down? Why do you cower in shame."

"I should be reading daily. Especially while I had my sister. I missed an opportunity to show real Christianity."

He shook his head. "I am disappointed you didn't pick it up and read it. You ask me why I was silent. Child, I keep telling you that I gave you books, I put it in a recording so you could listen to it on your time.... that is my main communication."

"Yeah, I know I'm daft, you don't have to say it in as many words."

"If you are reading your Bible only for your sister to see you doing it, I will not speak to you through it. You have your reward."

I freeze, my mouth agape. "Wait... what?"

"Your reading is for you. I will work in Sunshine's life on her speed. I'm not worried about her right here, right now. There, with her, I'm concerned, so don't take that the wrong way."

I nearly giggle, but I knew it needed saying.

"Child, I'm always with you."

"I know..." I admit.

"Up there you do, how about down here? Where have I been? Right there. I was there when you struggled the worst. You could have asked for deliverance instead of falling prey to the need for one more chapter..."

"I... wanted out," I admitted.

"Did you?"

"Some part did."

He nodded. "You're still fighting the battle of your fleshly desires. You've allowed yourself to fall into quite the pit. I'm proud of you for wanting to come out, to follow and dump those little bits at a time..."

"There's this song I remember hearing once... where you walk through a house examining how clean it is... but then reach the closet and it's a mess... and the owner has to actually let you clean out the closet... It's a Bluegrass song... why can't I find it?"

He smiles, "You will, when the time is right."

I sigh. "Why did you ignore me for two weeks, why didn't you answer as quickly, why didn't you seek me out this time?"

Abba's eyes sparkle. "Oh child, think about it? Ignore you? No, I was busy letting you feel that emptiness. You needed to feel the difference. You want me now more than ever."

I giggle at where my mind went. Romanticly... Now I'm blushing.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about. I want to have an instant relationship with you. But that only works if it's two way. You have to want me back. You have to seek me back. But... as you've been learning with the animal class you're taking, that's part of pressure and release.  I made you look at me, didn't give you rest until you did, now, I'm drawing you closer to me."

"Yeah..." I have nothing really more to say about this. He's right. It's a horse gentling technique. There are faster ways to train a horse, but the best way is through this simple method. Cut off the driveline, then use pressure release to get the horse to obey. Constant pressure will make the horse freak out, too much distance and the horse will do it's own thing. But with the combonation, it draws the horse to want to come. Want to be petted, then accepting of the lead rope.

"Very good."

with a sigh, I lean into him. "I'm so tired."

"I know."

"I do appreciate being with my sister for two extra days. It was hard letting her go."

"I'm preparing a place for you. Child. Patience."

"I dont' see it! I just dont' see it."

"I have given you all the proof you need. Do you see me?"

"Well, I can hear, feel-"

"I'm here."

"yes... You are here, here with me."

"I am here, and I have promised you a home. Trust me on this. Now... sleep, child."

"Will I get to be with my angel again? Will he come see me again?"

The Giver smiles down at me, brushing a stray hair from my face. "Oh child, my dear child. Am I not enough for you?"

"Yes... but..."

"But feel my presence, I've got you, under my feathers. And when I'm silent, then maybe you need to read."

"I'll try Abba."

"Oh my child, if only you were stronger.  But I will walk 500 miles, then I will walk 500 more just to be that man who walks a thousand miles just to stand outside your door."

As his voice fades, I find myself basking in the peace, and the silence of the room, collapsing into the great pillow pile.

"If I'm not strong enough to be what it is you need me to be Lord... Give me your strength to handle it."


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AN: Disclaimer. OOLADADA IS PARTLY IMAGINATION. It's a fictionalized rendition of my spiritual arguments. Few months back I felt challenged to talk to God on the same level as I would my imaginary friends... Since I treat them as real, and legit... and God as this thing that you talk to... Real but, so far above us that you tiptoe... well I felt the need to try this. So, the situation is real, God is real, half what he says is what I hear... but the place, and sights... stuff like that is kinda a mix of imagination and interpretation. My understanding of spiritual stuff.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed.

Cowgirl VK out.

The Person I Want To Be

Looking back on yesterday
I find myself in need to pray
For I have not achieved my goals
But rather have been made the fool

At four years old my dream to fly
At eight made me wish to cry
At nine my scores made me fret
At eleven I had lost the bet

The goal at twelve to have a job
At sixteen forced my brain to blob
At eighteen to college, I wished to go
Now here at twenty, the south wind blows

So looking upon age twenty-one
I pray to God a crown is won
That my life achieves the path he's set
And his word I not forget.

Lord may I not forget to dream
As my plans are ripped at seams
At four I wished to learn to drive
But now I fear to strive.

I fear the time has set me back
But yet I know this is still a path
Oh Lord give me another dream
And dish to me Your Blessed cream.

What are my dreams I wish to know?
What makes my spirit wish to grow?
Is all life here a mere empty dish?
Or is there yet a thing to wish?

I pray today for tomorrow's girl
I pray she's your eternal pearl
I pray she's grown from today's flower
And is wholly trusting in your power.

I pray today for shattered glass
The heart I had, which crumbled fast
Fix it whole, and help it love
Wash it with your eternal blood.

Fix my vice, those little sins
Make me not to wish again
Keep me pure for my wish is this
To be a bride, and find baby's kiss

Oh I know that life's not fair
That's why I lift to you this prayer
For on my own I'll never achieve
Until it's you that I believe.

I wish to build myself a work
That brings in hungry, sick and hurt
This place will be a place for those
Whos life, a challenging pose.

A Beautique that caters to the deaf, the blind
The children who challenges find
The lights too bright, the fixtures buzz
As they loom from up above.

This a dream I see someday
And this a dream, I wish to pray
For all those people I wish to touch.
This the world you loved so much.

Give me strength each every day
As I strive to you obey
Because this dream is yet so far
Today it seems so very hard.

Another dream I have in mind
A dream I fear, lest leave behind
To build a group that teaches skills
The Artisan guilds have needs to fill

How foolish my heart to wish such things
For yet another will dash my dreams
For not a week I was out of school
Then I felt like I was a tool

Two years I've spent at duldrum's door
Lord take this thought and make it no more
This thing too, you have some plans.
That'll help me achieve, turn can't to can.

The girl I'll be tomorrow's fine
Lord help her leave this guilt behind
A week from now help her find
All that joy she left behind

A month from now help me see
All the goals I then achieved.
In six help me see the change
And keep me from Satan's frame.

In a year oh let me move
My faith with mountains prove
Let me walk with my head high
And with joy, oh make me spry.

Let me not forget to rest
So I may do my very best.
Take the pain I feel today
And let it go so far away.

Five years from now Oh let me see
The changes you have done in me
Let me be a virgin in heart.
And your word I never part

I pray for now that man of mine
Who's heart forever you will bind
Give him joy as you give me
For through his life you will lead

I pray today for my legacy
All of those who'll come after me
Set your mark upon their brow
And through life, you'll show them how

Help them daily, hope will find
'Til all life's sorrows are left behind
I pray for every breath they'll breath
And your spirit they will believe.

Lord, I pray alas for me
For how I act and what believed
Keep me from all doubt and fear
And to you oh draw me near

Lord strike my life with your hand
As you shape me by your plan
Mold my heart into your ways
That I do not fret, nor be afraid.

Help my heart to ever be
Exactly what you wish for me
Oh help me to not forget
That you are not done with me yet

--------------------------

Not one of my best poems... rough around the edges. But I feel it needed to be written. Even if it's just a landmark going forward. This week passed 2 years of having graduated from high school... I've not touched my bucket list from that day. Too busy surviving the hurricane of unfortunate events. It's frustrating I'm looking at another milestone, and I'm even farther behind from where I want to be than I was at 18.8 graduating. It's infuriating. I'm not, nor never will be a breadwinner. I simply can't keep up.

I've had half a week with my little sister. Ran me raggid, I'm so tired, but we got stuff done. Not anything off MY list. But everything off her's.

Going to sign off now

Cowgirl VK Out

How To Approach a Roach (Poem)

Dear Reader...
For Grandpa...
My homework.

--------------------------------

A child ran oh so quick

In his hand, he held a stick

His fear I say was beyond reproach

He wanted to know how to approach a roach.

"Should he?" he asked with voice so soft

"Grab a shoe and mount the loft?

Should with the anvil high ahead

Let it crash in his stead."

"Is the bug a fright?" he asked?

"Would a light do the task?

Or maybe with a fire bold

Allow the knight a story told?"

"Is this beast a fearsome prey?

A danger to us night and day?

Or is this bug a harmless one?

When everything is said and done?"

"Should I with flowers yet in hand.

Durrive for me a clever plan?

Should I invite him yet to tea?

Or should this bug, let him be?"

"Is the roach a fearsome pest?

Is this yet their very best?

Do they indeed invade the home?

Or would they rather let us alone?"

"For one, I spy with my lil' eye,

Are there yet more to raise the cry

To mount a war against our homes,

And eat our food, and gardens roam."

"Do they yet eat my little hands

Is my pain yet in their plans?

If you will but be my coach,

Advise me how to approach this roach."

"Approach a roach dear child of mine?

Is this idea what has come of thine?

How to broach this simple task?

I say, dear boy, you have but ask."

"A pest or treasure this you ask?

Is this their job, or given task?

Are they for good, or wish they ill?

Diseases, dirt, and filth dispel?"

"A roach indeed is thought a pest,

They invade the home and destroy the nest,

They chew the wood and other things

And are indeed most unclean."

"They carry germs that make us sick

And rid the place is no picnic

For if one, I see climb up the door

A million more hide beneath your floor.

"A Coleoptera this they are,

Latin child, I'll explain more

In our homes, they've always approached

This is the pest we call a roach.

"Yes, dear child, they do bite.

And will with surprising might.

They love your socks, and underwear,

And everything left here and there."

"The bits of crumbs left on the stairs,

And some half-chewed gummy bears,

A dish or two you forgot to wash,

And that soda you happened to slosh."

"You see there be a lot they eat,

Now dear child how to defeat

How do you approach a roach?

This will be how I coach."

"If inside do smack it dead

There's plenty more to take his stead

Don't give for him a single tear

For he won't invade this a'year."

"But if outside, let him alone

For this shall be their good home

The roach inside is but a pest,

But outside they are blessed."

"They help the leaves to decompose

And dead bodies they help dispose

The droppings left by little Spot,

And all things you have forgot."

"They clean the world, prevent fire

And this is why God inspired.

To create for us the little roach

With all the colors I've yet to broach."

"In Egypt, they were thought to be

Gods of birth and destiny

I tell you, child, this is untrue

But thought back then by quite a few."

"So dear child so dear to me

This roach is not your enemy

Do not run or be afraid.

Determine how to give your aid."

"If outside, let him alone.

But kill the beast if in your home

And now that I have been your coach

You know how to approach a roach."

--------------------------------

Alright, there we go. Will probably need some editing later.

A few weeks ago, I hopped into the car and Grandpa said. "Your challenge for today, I want you to write a poem titled How to Approach a Roach... I did write something short, but I HATED it. This is better but still could use some work. The current plan is to take this, and its edits, illustratetrate it and turn it into a picture book.

I hope you enjoyed, any lines you can think of, or glaring mistakes, please point them out in the comments.

As always

Cowgirl Out

Mother's Day Poem

Empty hallways
Empty home
Empty arms
Where once I roamed

Mother's call
Freedom's fate
Left unsaid
Much too late

Oh my heart
Oh my soul
Oh the place
Where I was whole

Mother's arms
Oh, where are you?
On this day
That is for you?

How long must I,
Bear this pain
Carry the burden,
Long for your name.

I hate this day,
For what has been,
And the loss,
And pain within.

Mother's Day?
To others perhaps.
For me it is
A memory lapse...

Despite the years,
My mind does go
Back in time,
To pain and woe

Mom's failing health,
Joy now gone,
Grammy's death,
Day's new dawn.

For on this day
In year '09,
Grammy Died,
It was her time...

It strikes a blow,
To hear those words,
To see the flowers,
To watch the birds.

How long it's been!
Can't I say?
For just this once,
Happy Mother's Day?

Oh, my heart?
Why do you greave?
Why ruin it again?
Nor sorrows releave.

And yet again,
My heart is hurt,
As I yearn for Mom,
Worlds apart.

It's not in words,
I tell her now,
How much she means,
Or furrows plowed.

I try to say it,
In little ways,
How I act,
And what I pray,

When I teach,
And what I learn,
How I dress,
In each day's turn.

To all the children,
I have 'mom-ed'
I smile now
Seeds have spawned

Oh, my mom,
Who's worlds apart,
As I school,
She's in my heart.

I wish to return
To her today
But oh the price
I'd have to pay

So in this poem
My heart will cry
To my mom
Until I die.

I count the blessings
Of mothers dear
And all the ears
For with they hear

Oh yes this day
Does give me grief
But I guess now
There is relief.


____________________

Slight errors through it... mother's day happens to be the hardest holiday for me. For many reasons... but I'll leave it at this.

And to all the Moms, of birth and spirit, Happy Mother's Day.

VK Out

Freedom in Guardrails

This is for a class I'm in the middle of; Three paragraphs on an issue of Freedom that I struggle to grasp, and was covered in week's lesson.

-------------

Freedom is a notion that is hard to grasp, and even harder to carry out. Every day duty and life tugs at us from all sides. Mother wants this, Father that, school the other, then bosses, government, spouses and children tug at our time and lives day in, day out. As much as we want to be free, we also want food, a home, and adventure. But how? How with life tugging at our day to day are we even to approach freedom with such millstones hanging about our necks? We could live on the backs of others, and some have, but that only removes their freedom; with it, harmonious life in the cosmos.

But man must have freedom? Yes! One, in a way, must be free. First, however, one must be disciplined. This is a concept set forward by Kant, which I'd like to elaborate upon. Kant stood upon the idea that rules were more like guardrails protecting us from ourselves. It seems counter-intuitive, but if you sit back and think about it, this notion is very true.

At first, we don't have any rules, but also, we don't have any freedom. As a baby grows and matures, more and more freedoms are given to the child. With these freedoms; rules. When we are small, there are a lot of rules. But there are a lot of things that can hurt us. It's easier to be given a rule to follow, than a reason to obey. These rules are like guardrails allowing the child to explore their small world in great detail without the dangers of the whole world crashing in upon them. As they grow, and learn, reasons are given, adding signs to their adventure of life. As it is with rules and free for life, so it is on a larger scale with driving and rules.

Driving and life have rules. To protect our freedom, and broaden our reach, and the reach of others to achieve their dreams and goals. If you follow the rules, and everyone else does too, we can have many adventures and greater freedom in this life for all of our days. There are still things that can get into our path, but it prevents us from driving off the edge of the cliff into unknown dangers and threats. If our roads didn't have guardrails, we'd consider the builders careless. And if your life lacks rules, then not only are you risking your freedom but the freedom of everyone around you.

VK out.

Kendra's Little Yellow Dump-Truck (Dream)

Last night I had one of those dreams that I'm STILL laughing over. I'll try to do it justice. No guarantees.

Genres (Aventure/Comedy)

----------------------------------

This wasn't the first time we were to climb the mountain. I couldn't even remember why we needed to climb the mountain. But there was something up there that we needed. Or some person... I could never remember.

"Come on V!" A pillow comes flying through the air colliding with my head. "We are late! Oh, what is that smell?" My eyes crack open to stare across the room at Kendra... Kendra? I decide not to question it.

My feet hit the floor. "I'm up!"

"Good," She said. "Shower, grab your bags we're leaving in ten minutes."

I blink... "In what?"

"I bought a dump truck!" She tells me proudly as she skips from the room.

"A... dump truck," I blink trying to wrap my mind around my sister's announcement. Oh whatever... did only have a very fractional amount of time to leave.

Grabbing my stuff I head to the shower, which I miraculously know where is despite the fact that this is obviously no place I've ever been before... If I were to guess, it's in her house... I decide not to question that either. Dream logic, ya 'know.

Once in the shower, and sudds up... I come to the sudden realization that the only soap in there is in a glass... perfume bottle. A glass- very large, very fancy, flower etched... perfume bottle that says. 'color enhancing shampoo' for thick, curly luxurious hair.

Must have been an impulse buy. Or Kendra dyed her hair again and didn't tell me... I shake my head and go with my gut, she bought that for no other reason than it was different.

I get dressed as fast as I can, and miraculously, we're on the road in the required time limit. "You use some thyme on your clocks?" I asked her hoping for the answer to be no as we walked out to the garage.

"Oh the spaghetti sauce just loves thyme... maybe we should eat moon dust on the way."

It's a dream, don't question it. "Right... I suppose I'm to do cartwheels in the hall?"

"That would be prudent, but not until after we get there."

Walking out the garage I look around. "Uh... Kendra? Where's your dump truck?" I ask her.

"Over here, I had it shrunk to fit." She pulls a tiny little toy yellow dump truck from the shelf, opens the door, and climbs in.

Again, don't question it. Taking a deep breath, I open the door and look in.

"OH!" she says, "I need you to grab the car mats... I forgot to put them back in."

"Obviously."

The floor of that truck couldn't have been messier. The whole thing was caked in... bread crumbs, cookie crumbs, and crushed Oreos. But I find the large truck mats easily hanging on the other wall. I look between them, and our mode of transportation.

"Don't worry, I did get the right size! Just toss them in and come on! We really do need to get going before I have to toss more thyme onto the clocks."

And... they did. As my hand passed through the door, everything shrunk to fit. I climbed in after them and we were off.

The interior of the truck was again odd. The seats were made out of crackers, and the seatbelt was licorice. Made me wonder about the outside being a toy. Where did my sister find this thing?

"So, back to the top?"

"Yeah, and we've got a polistoikehedron on our tail." She replied as if we were discussing the weather.

"Great..." I said.

"Not really, Bet he brought some of those other monsters too. Bet he wants... whatever it is that the Giver wants us to get."

"And what is that?"

"I thought you knew." She replied glancing at me as she ziz-zagged up the road.

"You sure you don't want me to drive?"

"Not a bad idea!" She pushes a button and the steering where disappears from her side and appears on mine.

"Did you get it from Santa?" I ask.

"Might have, Just appeared in my driveway. Could have come from Mrs. Frizzle too."

I laugh at this, relaxing into the role of driving. "We are to climb the mountain and find... whatever it is we are to find."

"Exactly!" She sings

"Let's do it then."

As we drove, the road slowly changed from flatland, into a rocky forest, then finally we were climbing. Colder and colder the air grew as we made our trip up the mountain. I could see why she'd gotten the vehicle she had. The road was getting steeper, and narrower. Finally, in a section, it became too narrow for us to continue and too steep for us to park.

"I'll drop you here, then return," I said.

"Where you going?" She asked.

"To park it in a place where this... oddity won't be found, and won't go anywhere without us."

She nods. "Just make sure it's left upside down." She instructs me.

So, now alone, I back up nearly half a mile before I see a ledge overhanging the road Just at where my shoulders would normally be. I park the truck, get out, and flip it over leaving it behind a yellow flower bush and head to catch up.

The trip back up the mountain was a lot faster than what I expected, but the ledge was also a lot narrower than I remembered. Finally, I find a cave and turn in, this being the only direction Kendra could have taken forward. Once inside I hear two voices from out ahead of me. Puzzled, I follow.

"Purple chickens run faster than blue ones."

"SERIOUSLY! It's the red ones that are the fastest."

"Oh for crying out loud!" I mumble to myself trying desperately to wrap my head around the nonsense... yet again.

As I enter a cavern, I realize she's arguing with a giant, Venus Flytrap. Around it, moss, and glow warms light the enclosed area, and there she stood in the middle of it, going full force into a debate I couldn't even hope to follow.

"Kendra! We can't afford to be standing around!"

"I know!" she said, "But if we don't ask the good fly trap then we'll never figure out where we are supposed to find the dohicky that is supposed to do the whatnot for the whoever."

The plant, noticing me turns it's... now sunflower face towards me. "Oh! Hello! The blueberries grow on trees!"

"Sometimes," I reply.

"Very good, you may stay here until tomorrow night. It's time to wake up now... and boy do you stink!"

With that, it turned back to Kendra, morphing into a Rose, and going off again on some other nonsesne debate.

-------------------

And that's where the dream cut off. With me hoplessly trying to follow their logic through a debate that would be better suited for Discord and Pinkie Pie in MLP. The whole cavern changing itself to fit the topic they were dicussing.

But I figured you guys would either loose sanity, or get a laugh out of that one.

Until Next time.

Cowgirl Out.

The Delema of my Blogs

Or should I say coming up with, and completing blog posts...

This past month I've been studying the great minds and worlds of thought that were advanced during the Reformation. That, of course, led to cleaning out my inbox in my email of all those... trash notifications that I've gotten over the year. Things like Google Calendar would like to inform you that it's time to wake up... dated October 22, 2015... I do hope I actually did that day it's too long ago to remember. This led to tripping over old posts, which has led to this.

The Dilemma of My blog posts

To understand my dilemma, I'd like to go over a bit of history of the blog, and how it's grown over the years.

When I started blogging, with my other one, Making Me A Servant in 2009, it was for a handful of reasons, the first was... to be cool. The cool people had blogs. (Nerds) The second reason was school related. I was learning how to write an essay and needed an audience bigger than Mom and my two siblings for that.

I should point out I had only really just captured the art of reading. My typing skills were... questionable at best. Not like today where I can cover nearly fifty-two words a minute without much thought or struggle. I type nearly as fast as I think... sometimes faster.

Kendra started about the same time as I did, and shoot, anything she could do I could do better right? *cough* I didn't do much. I tried... half-heartedly to keep up with the blog. Post here, post there, but it was a casual adventure. At that time, Most of my posts were taken down, edited, then put back up at some point or other.

This is also the year I gave up spelling tests. Guess mom considered the shame of being laughed at for my spelling was enough incentive to get past my big fat zeros I was getting on tests.

And so the years went by, I wrote, as I had ideas. But really, it quickly lost its novelty, and my motive went to 'I blog because my sister does.'

This of course came with its own bunch of problems. Honest, I was frustrated, angry, and downright reluctant to even attempt anything here, why? because to tell the truth, I was writing for comments and followers. I had maybe half a dozen followers, and she'd get a new one... frequently. Well, a lot more frequently than I was.

So I created myself a system. I had a daily goal and I'd follow the pattern. Memory Monday, Quote Me Tuesday, Wordless Wednesday, Thoughtful Thursday, Finished Friday, And Song Saturday. Each one pretty much explains itself, but I'll go over them. Mondays, I'd tell a memory. Tuesday I'd hunt down a quote, and then comment on it. Wednesday I'd share one, or more pictures I'd taken that week, Thursday I'd state something I was thankful for, Friday I'd put what I'd accomplished, and Saturday I'd write a new poem.

Talk about overwhelming.

It was a good goal, and I did manage to follow the pattern for a solid three months. Over one hundred days of blog posts six days; sometimes seven days a week. As great as it felt I burned myself out, and I was back at my starting point. To make matters worse, as I burned out, I was hearing more, and more often 'take it down, you have an error' or 'take it down, that's private information.'

Some were at this time, I started up this blog, to accompany the first. Making was supposed to be about my spiritual growth, but I was getting into poetry and writing. Those concepts just... didn't fit.

So time went on, and my frustration just kept mounting. Fed up, I tossed in the towel, But in my heart of heart... I do love writing.

So, again I morphed. Joined a fan fiction site, and started blogging over there. Nothing bad, but I needed to get away and create my voice away from my sister's friends, and my mother's influence. I needed to become ME. When people ask, I say that was my rebellious stage. Any posts I was particularly proud of, I'd bring over here and share as well. You'll notice those because they tend to have an outline from the transfer. Or weird little emojis.

That being said, Kendra still kept an eye on everything I posted, everything I shared, and when I stepped over a line... she let me know. But shoot, what are sisters for? I still didn't like it, but I was away from the people who knew me, and able to try different things without someone at church going. "Oh, so I read your blog post..."

I was studying a lot of strange topics, Like personality types, how the DISC system worked, What are personality functions. How does color affect our moods and emotions... Among other topics. And, I grew a following! For the first time ever, my stuff was being seen, and that gave me the motivation to keep going. People kept asking questions, and I kept studying. I was asked to join a reviewers community, I started doing voice work for animators, I led an art group, we did a dramatic reading together of a story we all enjoyed. I was discovering myself.

*Cue the crashing car*

All good things must come to an end. I was one of a handful of Christians in a heavily Left-wing world. With my beliefs, and my stands, as well as my following, I was getting noticed by the trolls. On top of that, my health was suffering, graduation had just happened, and my editor walked out; and to in case my month couldn't get any worse, a local friend stabbed me in the back... almost literally

So I quit. I quit everything. Pulled out, and just walked away. I had to. My heart was in a million pieces. I wasn't going to bend to the left and their regime, and I wasn't about to let anyone tell me what I could, and couldn't do. Especially not a troll online, or a friend I'd not spoken to in months. I do, after all, sing my own song.

I remember very little about the following months. I discovered gaming and fell in. I said I was learning about action sequences. Maybe so. Maybe, in the beginning, it was about noticing the finer details of the action in writing. But if I was honest, I was just trying to kill time. Kill the time I'd previously spent in all those projects, and with all my friends. From time to time, inspiration would strike and I'd start something, or write something short. But it wasn't very often, and it wasn't very deep. I turned to art when I wasn't gaming or cleaning.

I won't say what changed. But it's been a very dark couple of years. Just one thing after another. I feel I'm stronger for it, Learned how to journal, how to express myself for myself.

But where am I going from here? What is my dilemma? Very simply, I refuse to stick with a mold. If I'm part of an art group, I write poetry for birthday presents. If I'm part of a poetry group, I paint them pictures... just whatever everyone else is not doing, that's the part of myself that needs to speak.

I named this blog I'm Singing my Own Song because I do. I'd rather walk alone than fit a mold. I don't NEED people to be happy, or fulfilled. There's works of thought, the beauty of nature, places to see, books to read, paintings to paint; stories to write; music to create. I have a song, and I must sing it!

But it comes with a dilemma. I know what gets comments. But if I stick with just those posts, it's like using only one puppet in a puppet show when you have so many more to choose from. If I stick with just one, I feel like I'm repeating myself. But on the flip side, I've been hurt. I've been hurt badly and there's so much more to myself that I can't let out yet.

So where am I going? I don't know. My goal of blogging is to educate, to express myself, and to lift up other's spirits'. I don't know where that endeavor is going to take me. This blog doesn't have the same viewing my fan blog did. It doesn't have the same followers. I don't' even know if at this point in my life I have the time to put in that kind of effort to grow this to that.

Do I want to re-start that blog? Not really. I still have people I talk to from time to time, but I'm pretty sure that stage of my life is complete. That blog's goal was to help me find my voice, and the types of blog posts I'd enjoy writing.

Might still pop in from time to time, I do still have a ton of stories I really should finish before I take that next step into my own writing. Finish up with my voice, complete those endeavors. 

I've considered many paths forward for my blogging. My first is to study the great minds, and eras and doing posts about the heroes, and the women in their lives... But I don't think this blog's name is all that conducive to those kinds of posts. Despite the fact, women leaders in history, and their reputation has been a favorite topic of mine for years.

I've considered sitting down with the knowledge I have now of personality types, and colors... and people in general and doing posts. But I'm not sure I'm quite ready to do that either. Honest, I've already done that once. If someone wants to ask me a question on that... I'd be happy to do a post. Biblical Counseling is the degree I want, that involves having a deep understanding of the way people tick.

I know I'll continue to do posts about my imaginary worlds, and encounters with my different imaginary friends. As well as maybe a few of my more interesting dreams that could turn into story ideas someday. My art and my photography have always been a part of this blog, and it always will be. (Reminds me that probably will be the next post.) You can find my photography on Instagram.

That being said, I don't know how many times I've started a post just to close it and leave it in drafts. Some of them, I had a concept, but the post just didn't' feel right. Other times... It felt repetitive. This is, in essence, my dilemma.

Blogging is a beautiful creation of the free will and mental exercise. A freedom that our ancestors have not been able to experience. Their writing being forced to go through filters of government before anyone had the opportunity to see or read. A blessing that I wouldn't' give up for the world. I may change where I blog, but I'll never quit blogging.

And perhaps, just perhaps, being a small time blogger... isn't so bad after all.

VK out

Word War

A short poem I started during a word war... never start a poem in a word war...

Photo Credit Kendra E. Ardnek

Clickity Clack

Fingers smack

Rush the keys

Busy Bees

Round the room

Words go zoom

All us girls

Hair to twirl

Push our minds

Keep in time

Time to beat

No, don't cheat!

Getting Stuck

Brain is muck

Keep in time

You're doing fine. 

Stories Told

Hearts unfold

Many tears

Untold fears

Story flies

Soaring skies

Darking plot

On the spot

Timer ticks

Keys still click

Rush of noise

Words of choice 

Down the page

In a rage

Gameface on

Story on

Confidence

Innocence

It is told

Just be bold

In the zone,
Not alone
Such a heart
We're all part

Time is up

Laptops shut

Wordcount out

Let us shout