The Hard Truths of Finger Dancing Season

I guess Summer is officially over.  Nothing makes my fingers dance like the rain drops do, apparently.  I just realized I just published my first words on my blog for the first time in 4 months.

If I were a good writer, I could reason it's the power of God channeling right down through the rain drops onto my paper.

You know how some people are like, "I don't know where those words came from, they just showed up on the page."  Some divinely inspired words.  The screen writer of the movie "Brave Heart" said he goes to bed every night praying about what he is going to write in the morning.

That's not me.



I'm just a reactive creature to my environment, is all.  I don't deserve to be compared to the Brave Heart screen writer.  I'm more like the scaredy cat journaler.

Work load is a factor on my writing too, I suppose.  My Real Estate business gets busier in the Summer, so I guess the amount I write is a direct reflection of the Real Estate market & the weather.  In that regard, Summer is like a 2 fold vacation from my mind.

That's how it feels too, like I've almost been entirely out of my head for the last 4 months.  As opposed to mining my every thought to see how I can milk it into some form of entertainment.  Unfortunately, I think my finger dancing comes from a pure natural place, but as it's channeled through my mind it's actually recorded purely for the hopes of personal glory.

I've been trying to learn to play guitar for 20 years and I still only know 1 chord on a good day.  Writing is my less than half hearted attempt to take the stage and play my heart strings away in a soulful ballad that will make the masses rise to their feet in hand clapping praise of my masterpiece.

I suck at painting, I wasn't good enough at skateboarding to go pro, and I'm allergic to guitars, so I write so that they'll have something to hang in the galleries after I'm gone.

Vain and shallow, I know.  Which is why I'm just finally realizing it.  We can be pretty good at fooling our own selves, for a while.  I really want to be praised, or respected, or something.  I want to be successful, and I often try and act like I don't, cause no one likes a try hard.  But I think most of us like honesty, and that's what I'm getting at.  I think I want some really vain things.  And the saddest part is that it's not even realistic- the famous writer part.

And honestly, on the inside, as I churn to glorify myself, I know God gets easily lost in my selfish pursuits.  And that's sobering.  Not that it helps.  I'm still just a scaredy cat journaler unrealistically striving for fame while sacrificing what's important.  I suppose the saving grace of it all is that I'm identifying what's true.  And I guess that's a good place to start.