A whole month has passed since I wrote my first couple of blogs. I honestly thought I would write more frequently, especially given the fresh advice I received from one of my most favored authors, Brennan Manning, concerning the steps, or rather step, to becoming a writer worth reading. "Write everyday," he flatly stated. For such simple advice, I can't seem to bring myself to do it, not for lack of desire but rather lack of words sufficient enough to convey with due luster the thoughts streaming through my mind; my random, revelational, and nearly incommunicable thoughts. Sometimes I would rather not say anything at all than sit a computer dumbfounded as to how to put my theories on life and love in a cold and stale word document. (wow, I am reminding myself of Hope...how many times has the word love been erased?!?!)

So instead of putting my heart into words, I bury my nose in a book and consider and study the ways in which the "pros" do it. I read novels, nonfiction, webzines, news articles, even other blogs, in the hope that the authors' wit and way with words would somehow change me into a writer worth reading. I am ashamed to say that I have played the comparison game to my loss; though I have learned a thing, maybe two, in my writing classes, I feel safe in saying that my writing will be as far reaching as the few friends who visit my blog out of curiosity. Just as well, I suppose.

Well, now that the pressure's off to write something fantastic, I will digress into more trivial subjects, like ultimate frisbee. I have played four (yes 4!) times in the past week and a half. Don't be fooled; this cosmo girl with an affinity for Starbucks, downtown skyscrapers, jazz, and fashion nothing less than LOVES this game. Mark your calendars, friends. Every Sunday at 2 and Tuesday at 730. I am hopeful to say that with this running I am doing, I'm sure to lose some excess pounds. Ok, I'll stop kidding myself. Truth be told, every calorie I burn I refill in chocolate. Lord, help me.

Perhaps in light of my absence of prose writing, I have taken interest in song writing. Don't ask for any samples; I don't have any yet. In fact, I might say that song writing is scarier than prose writing. I can't hardly record my voice...in my room by myself...with no one home...without letting apprehension well up within my throat, handicapping me from singing anything worth saving. Perhaps with some prayer I will overcome my fear of rejection (even by myself) and just do the things I love without reservation. Once again, Lord, help me.

I hope that's enough for you to chew on until next month when I once again feel motivated to record my randomness. With any luck, I will give you a morsel before then. Stay tuned, friends, and thanks for reading.