Here I am on the last day of National Blog Writing month. I made it! With a few days missed and a couple filled with content for National Novel Writing month – I made it! Looking back on the last thirty days much has happened. I left my five and a half year job for better pastures. I started doing my devotions on a daily bases more. And I began to understand how the last few years have affected me in all of those areas. In that measure alone – NaBloWriMo has been a success.
It’s also Halloween today. Adults will dress up in costume and kids will do the same. It’ll be a right merry day. Or something. I’ve never really enjoyed Halloween. Even as a kid I wasn’t a fan. I don’t know why. So if you’re celebrating and dressing up – go nuts. Just get a designated driver and save the police, courts and your family the trouble eh?
Why, yes. I’m ahead of myself. And slightly proud of it. I’m putting one of my character sketches up – keep in mind this is a very rough draft. First up – Thomas Dahl!
It’s Monday. Commence with the gnashing of teeth and tearing of ritual sackcloth!
I’m back podcasting about church, Jesus and the future of it all. I’m a bit bonkers and wander with my ideas but it’s fifteen minutes worth of marinating on the future of The Church. Give it listen and tell me how wrong I am.
I spent the better part of a Saturday playing computer games on LAN with a bunch of like minded friends. The echoes of my middle school years were not lost on me. In middle school I was a full on nerd. I brought new meaning to the word geek. We had LAN parties, stayed up all hours of the day and night. And had more fun than any group of teenage boys probably should have.
It was nice to have fun blowing things up while teaming up against a very determined AI player. It took three of us on easy level. See, here we go. NEEERRRDD. Needless to say it was a fun time had by all. I got home at midnight and crashed into bed. And I’ve been feeling it all day and even now as Sunday night is closing out I’m wondering what I was thinking.
Sometimes getting away from it all is the best medicine. Upon leaving my former employer I began to discover as I job searched that I had more time than I knew what to do with. I realized that I had allowed myself to get swallowed up in the job. It happens to the best of us. We turn into workaholics and while sometimes that is a good quality it is a very bad thing to run at full throttle all the time. So I find myself out of gas and on a very large desert island.
I found that I now had time to write. I found that coffee shops were something to visit. And I found my way back to daily conversations with God. That last one might need some explanation.
Day 25. DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES? I’ve made it this far and nary a mental writing breakdown in sight. Fall has arrived in a rush of leaves, cold and pumpkin spice here in Denver. I will say that I’m not a particular fan of pumpkin in pretty much any form. Or yams. Or sweet potatoes. Yes, I apparently hate America. Or at least the Pilgrims alleged version of American cuisine.
I deplore Pumpkin Pie. Even a healthy or unhealthy dollop of whipped cream couldn’t get me to eat a slice without having a gag reflex. It’s like eating wet paper soaked in flour. Folks are raving about pumpkin spice this and pumpkin spice that and I very much want to throw them in a vat of the stuff to see how they feel. OK, that escalated quickly. I’m just really not that into pumpkin – no matter the seasonal requirements that culture seems to require.
I’ll get odd looks from people when I turn down pieces of pie or shake my head at a pumpkin spice latte. I have to bring my own pies to parties as I’m the exception to the rule. Is there a support group for this? I might be developing a complex.
Kidding aside, I’m very excited for the holiday season. November rolls around and most of us start feeling like being nicer, kinder and more about family than we have all year. If we have a crazy family we either start medicating in anticipation now or stock up on brews for when the blessings from hell arrive on our doorsteps. Thankfully my family during the holidays doesn’t make me want to put my head through a desk, wall or worst case – a door. For those of you who have to deal with that – I hear my home state has some very good substitutes in adult beverage form.
I’ve got six days left in National Blog Writing Month. I’m going to declare victory early as I’ve found myself enjoying the writing of blogs again. It’s a wonderful feeling that will ebb and flow – as it always does and will continue to do so. The thing I’ve learned is to accept that as a regular thing.
This obviously will be thrown out the window next month as National Novel Writing month gets underway. Next month will simply be PANIC, DOOM and DOOMPANIC. Should be fun.
It’s day 24 of National Blog Writing month and I feel like I’m hitting a stride. It might be a staggering stride and I may have started growling like a hangry undead version of myself but it’s a stride people!
Since leaving my job of nearly five and a half years earlier this month I’ve embarked on doing my devotionals on a daily basis. It’s been a welcome return to something I’ve been missing. And that’s been much of what I’ve been stumbling into as I’ve been job searching and soul searching.
It’s a curious and terrifying feeling looking at your life and knowing full well you’re going to have to get a microscope and a team in there to discover what it is that you’ve been missing all this time.
It’s also important to stay positive. I’ll admit this is something I’m not so good at it when it comes to my own self worth. I take failures beyond seriously and tend to beat myself up like a champ when failure occurs. There’s tearing of ritual sackcloth and gnashing of teeth and maybe even a few metaphorical drops of water from my eyes.
I’m sure there’s more things I’m going to find out about myself. I’m on day four and I still foresee there’s ground to cover. When you take yourself out of the equation for five years and allow something else to dictate your direction – it tend to leave a few indelible marks.
In some ways National Blog Writing Month and my departure from my employer have opened up my eyes and heart to the important things in life. There are things that matter, there are people that are important and an entire world out there just beyond the limited view of our vision.
Rome wasn’t built in a day. Quality workmanship takes time. And that’s what I am. I’m a quality creation in Christ – and I’m a constant and consistent work in progress. So I’ll humbly drop kick my ego and open myself up to the entire spectrum of employment. Not because of desperation – but because sometimes having a title and Scrooge McDuck level of money isn’t all that important.
So round me up a Huey, Dewey and Louie and let’s grab a map of Middle Earth.
I’m going on a adventure.
It’s day 23 of National Blog Writing Month and I’ve not lost my mind or rage quit. So there’s that. As I’m out of ideas to talk about I’m going to write some fiction here and see if it sticks. So there.
Thomas Dahl stood outside interview room 001 with black coffee in one hand and a clipboard in the other. The girl inside the room had required his attention. As a Lieutenant in the Cope Police Department he oversaw the Special Investigations Department and from what he’d been able to overhear in the halls – this was one for him.
The one sheet on the clipboard sealed the deal. A runaway. Aged maybe sixteen. And a biter. That wasn’t what had pulled him from his office. The ornate wooden staff she’d been found with along with the absolutely confusing manner of speech she’d been uttering since the officers had found her surrounded by five smoking bodies.
Dahl took a long pull from the coffee and wondered if the city could could any weirder. Thirty five years had been generally kind to the six foot five Norwegian and the last fifteen in law enforcement had gained him a reputation. One that had seen him exiled from New York for drier pastures.
A understated flash of red hair entered his peripheral vision with a file folder. Marie Flannery was every bit Irish as Thomas was Norse. Her coffee came in a thermos, her eyes were daggers of green and a penchant for getting revenge was giving her a nearly legendary status within the Cope Police department. She was thirty years old and looked twenty. Dahl resisted the urge to stare at her for effect. The five foot two sargent was known to punch guys with eyes that didn’t blink when they should.
“Whatta we got?” Thomas placed his nearly finished cup on a fire extinguisher and accepted the file. She crossed her arms and gave him a look, “The five guys she killed? Interpol has been looking for them since last month. Professional hitters all of them. Only way we matched ‘em was the DNA. Fingertips burned off and dentals are all fake. There’s more but you’ll be bored by the time I start talking about it.”
The broad shouldered Norwegian shook his head as he continued to read, “They were some of the best they could have thrown at her, at least stateside. I wouldn’t like to see them send the European dogs our way.” Flannery nodded to the door, “She’s not very talkative. You might have to beat up a teenage girl this time.” She smirked and walked away before her Lieutenant could utter a smart reply. Dahl looked at the door and shook his head. Cope Colorado certainly had it’s share of the insane.
More to come next time.
This is “A Unwritten Letter”. Couple of years back this was a fresh emotion playing upon my heart. This is me writing a letter to the someone to finally close it out. I may do more of these for National Blog Writing Month. We’ll see. Onwards!
I wish I could have told you how I felt about you. I wish you could have heard me describe how when I looked into your eyes I felt as I’d come home finally. I had hoped you’d see what my heart was doing as you walked away or when you smiled. Or when you did just about anything. The laugh, the roll of your eyes when you were annoyed with me. The way you looked beautiful no matter what kind of day you’d had. The manner of clothing and colors that never failed to accentuate your beauty.
You were something to me. You probably realized it and did the smart thing by putting distance between us. The signals you gave were pretty clear. You didn’t want me that way.
The truth? You were the first girl that when I hadn’t seen you I felt a strange tugging in my heart. I realized the terrifying truth. I liked you and probably more than you would have been comfortable with at the time. Or anytime. I clearly missed you. And that was scary and wonderful at the same time.
But you didn’t want that. So I quietly buried those emotions, feelings and hopes. I had to toss some gasoline on it and let it burn for a bit longer than I anticipated. It helped clean the wound I’d caused in my heart trying to chase you. I patched it up and walked on down the line.
I still miss you sometimes. I guess that scar tissue with those emotions will never truly fade away.
I podcast to talk about “When God Kills Me.” The man I talk about is Mark Harp. His obit is here and his website is here.