Some Thoughts

It's been a while, and I have lots of thoughts that I can't sort into any semblance of an organized essay. Today's post is brain-to-pen [keyboard] word flood.

on stake women's conference today:
--Apparently striped maxi skirts are the shiz right now. I bought a super comfortable-looking blue striped maxi skirt last night when I went to Walmart for milk. At least two other women were wearing the exact same skirt. That just means I have good taste.
--That skirt apparently was a great purchase because I kept getting compliments on my appearance. One lady asked me how I kept so thin after having two kids and it made me all uncomfortable because I don't ever know how to handle it when people compliment my looks. If I agree, I feel vain, but insisting they're wrong doesn't feel right either.
--I have always thought of myself as pretty confident, able to block out the sometimes cruel voices of the world because of my belief in my worth as a daughter of God. However, I realized that I am not nearly as good at blocking out my OWN voice. I am so hard on myself. That needs to change.
--I'm really glad to have made some good friends in this ward.

on pink eye:
--It sucks. I always thought pink eye was just sort of an annoyance but not really that bad, until my daughter got it. And it just plain sucks.

on grandparents:
--At our women's conference a man with a beautiful operatic voice sang some songs about the Savior for us. It was really touching. At one point I looked across the chapel and saw an older woman mouthing the words to the song along with the singer, and suddenly I thought of my Grandma Green. She has a wonderful singing voice and I always love listening to her sing. Even at my Grandpa's funeral, I could hear her voice, sweet and steady, as we sang hymns during the service. I got a powerful urge to call her right then and there, but I didn't want to leave the meeting. I did call her afterward, though, and I miss her.
--I had a weird dream a couple nights ago and my Grandpa was in it, and it hurt. I still miss him. Not all the time. But sometimes I just start thinking about him and this empty place in my chest starts to ache, and I realize the pain of losing someone never goes away.

on writing:
--I've always wanted to be a fiction writer. I don't just read fiction; I devour it. My particular favorites are YA and Fantasy. From a child I have had stories continually bubbling up in my mind, pleading to be written, characters that just won't leave me alone. So this month I started writing some fiction and guess what? It's hard and I am not great at it. I can't make my words work for me the way I want them to. Writing good fiction takes an incredible amount of skill, and if you're not magically born with it, it takes a lot of hard work to really master the craft. I took a fiction-writing class in college once and it was excruciating.
--You know what kind of writing I AM good at? This kind. Personal and introspective. Thoughts from brain to page, my words working for me, not against me. I've always thought of this blog as just sort of a warm-up, practice for the time when I will be a *real* writer. But maybe this is my real?
--I do know the only way to be a better writer is to keep writing and writing and writing. So I guess I'll keep at it for a while longer and try to improve.