Don't hate me because I'm introspective.

I've been thinking a lot lately about action versus our words.

Words have matter--is that right RB? Sounds can cause things to change shape. Sounds carry on forever.

How much more does action affect the world around us?
I believe the time for talking is over. It's time for action and movement.

This isn't a new concept (how many times have I said that over the course of this blog? Not enough times to think I'm unoriginal...apparently) but it's a NOW concept.

When do we get inspired the most? When we talk about things we want to do or when someone else starts to do the things we want to do? Sure it might be a bad motivator but jealousy can come in handy when we're talking about being jealous for our own dreams and purposes to come true.

So this is my personal challenge: to do.
It's funny because that's my heritage in a way. Check this out:

This is from the Winking Circle--a group I belonged to in highschool til today! We were all about getting off the couch and doing something. Anything. (Usually arts-related... )
Anyway. It's time for me, at least, to do what I was made to do.

What about you? What were you made to do?

Percocets at midnight after a movie and dancing=lethal.

Maybe it's the percocets talking, maybe it's really me for a change, but something in me has shifted. Something at my core, something foundational and instinctual has risen up and I'm unwilling to stop it. In fact I'm curious to see how it unfolds in the same way I like watching a car accident: in slow motion but too sudden to try and stop it; ashamed to be so fascinated yet not shameful enough to look away.

Maybe it's a combination of watching a movie about literary under-achievers slumming it out in N'arlins and the crispness of Fall that gives birth to new beginnings and dreams (and percocets too) that has stirred my soul again.

Maybe it's dancing so hard that I strained muscles in my back while I stomped to the beat with my head tossed back that's opened thess flood-gates.

Or maybe it's the freedom that comes with living under a budget. (Which for me really just means I have to return the boots I bought today).

But whatever it is...I like it.

It's the feeling I got in highschool with teachers who were passionate about their subject. Whatever Port Perry High School educators lacked in social graces and morals they made up for in passion. And nothing is more contageous to a student then a teacher in love with learning.

Maybe it's midnight turning me into a dancing literary warewolf of fine arts...

Maybe I'm just finally giving into myself.

Maybe I'm realizing everything I need is in front of me and everything I want to know about myself and my purpose and my future and my calling and my giftings are things I've known for a long time. Maybe I'm listening to the truth from my family and friends and my gut that says 'yes--you are an artist.'

Maybe I'm learning that God was first and foremost a creator. Why should he be ashamed if I am one too?

On that note RB and I highly highly recommend the following movie for your viewing pleasure. It's an all round entertaining flick about "invisible" people. If you're melancholic like me or just like Scarlet Johansens jugs (like me) then you'll like this movie.

Thanksgiving is supposed to be my favourite holiday...

Kinda tired.
Melancholic to be precise. I would have made an excellent protagonist for a novel by one of the Brontes. Does that make me more suited to marry a Heathcliffe type or less suited? I'd prefer more suited, but I think that's a recipe for romantic disaster.

Mmmmmm.....romantic disasters:
1 male
1 female
2 equal parts melancholic tendancies
2 parts drama
4 parts romance and passion
equal parts creativity and lack of discipline
a lot of good looks (optional)
and a pinch of legalism

Fold in each ingredient until well combined. Allow to stew for a few months. Then bake under intense pressure for a month or two until explosive.
Serves 2

Anyway--Thanksigivng was last weekend for all you Americanos out there. For the rest of us Canadites we will spend the rest of the week eating up leftovers of turkey, stuffing, gravy, pie and soups. It's almost the best part.

Sadly I didn't have the best Thanksgiving--which IS sad because most of you know it's my favourite holiday. The night I arrived in Port I was struck down with a flare-up of....whatever it is I have. I suppose 'crohn's' is the technical term but I maintain I've be misdiagnosed.

My mum and I debated spending the weekend in port while almost everyone else was in Perry Sound, but ended up heading North after lunch (with percocets in hand thanks to an uniterested doctor at emerg).
I love rainy weather too but didn't this weekend. Can you believe I actually packed my tanning oil? High hopes. High hopes.

Anywho! All this to say Thanksgiving is amazing but not when one's sick.

The night we returned from Perry Sound I made another 3am trip to emerg where I was treated to 4 failed IV attempts (it's like someone taking a thick, hallow needle and puncturing your skin here and there....wait....that's what it actually is) and eventually morphine, which, I confess is half the fun.

So now I'm home, behind on everything, anticipating on letting a lot of people down over the next weeks to months and wondering about the future...
I don't like big public announcements about my up and down health but it looks like it's the long haul, so I thought I'd put it out there. Kind of a preemptive notice.

At this time I am accepting any sympathy and attempts to 'lift' my spirits.

Oh but I also publically maintain that I am celebrating my future! It's going to be amazing.