You know, there's an awful lot of crap I talk about loving.
Loving to do.
Loving to love.
Loving to learn about.
Loving to be.
How often do I actually do these things I love?
How often do I log onto
etc etc etc (The Weather Channel... true story. I like to know the forecast. Get off me.)?
Alot more often than I should.
Alot more often than I enjoy the love of what I love.
Alot more often than I open my journal (let's fill the new one by the end of summer. 3 weeks).
Alot more often than I paint (giant canvas blank for 2.5 years) and sketch and craft.
Alot more often than I write poems and short stories (and I'm about to be an English major).
Alot more often than I read (with an exception of blogs and internet funzies... I read those alot) (never finished the Harry Potter series... no midnight premiere for me) (oh, and then there's that English major thing again).
Alot more often than I run (still holdin' onto those last few lbs like a champ).
Alot more often than I sing (and it kills me that I know I'm not as good as I used to be... kills me).
Alot more often than I teach myself to play musical instruments I still don't know hardly anything about (guitar sitting in the corner of my room for 6 years).
Alot more often than I break out the old and trusty Canon Rebel Xsi (my sixteen-year-old self would be so mad at me for not putting a summer of camp paychecks to use).
Alot more often than I learn the new things about that Canon I keep saying I will (like the musical instruments).
Alot more often than I clean (my neat-freak dad would die if he walked upstairs right now).
Alot more often than I love on people (like Jesus did).
Alot more often than I ask for forgiveness (that I need desperately).
Alot more often than I take the time to actually care about a person instead of stalk them via the internet (good thing I'm pride-repelant and would NEVER judge a soul by tweets/facebook pictures/etc).
Alot more often than I surrender (my yoke is difficult and my burden is heavy--but i'll handle this, God. Don't carry anything for me).
Alot more often than I dwell on the fact that I'M GOING TO HEAVEN and that's something to dance and sing and paint and write and go crazy about with joy (instead, I'll whine about how hard my poor, little life today is. poorrrrrr meeeee).
Good grief, do I waste alot of time.
*note: please, ignore the dreadful grammar, overuse of parentheses, and obnoxious rambling style of this post (It all goes back to that English major thing--strike 3... good thing blogger's not baseball, and that no one's paying me to make analogies.)