2002-06-05 - 11:13 p.m.
Call this a moment of lyrical lucidity.

I think in images, in sounds, in bursts of color and fury.

When I think of the act of writing, this comes to mind:

A girl. Me. Standing somewhere, out of doors, like a hilltop in the high desert or a cliff overlooking the sea, with all the colors of nature around her, and the sun dipping towards the end of day. Autumn, and a cool breeze, slipping through her outstretched fingers like strands of silk. Eyes closed, humming a wordless, vaguely Irish tune. Energy, humming through the veins, overlaid by a purpose and contentment.

But not really in so many words. It's just *there*, like a chunk, an entire concept that thrums like the vibration of a large church bell that's been newly struck. Which is another image that just came to mind, and I'm not sure why. Maybe because "The Nine Tailors" made such a huge impression on me when I read it a few years ago? Bells have meant something to me ever since.

Anyway. That chunk, that scene, really has nothing to do with the act of picking up a pen or a keyboard and turning out a story; and yet ...

You know, when a mood like this hits me, I feel anything but 24, anything but an underemployed white girl who lost her way between college and maturity. Moods like this make me thumb through all my theories on life and question my beliefs, checking each one to make sure I still believe it, or don't, and why. Because people that don't double-check themselves end up too easily living lies, or asserting things that aren't true simply because they can't take the way the world is.

It's a big deal to me that I'm not grossed out by homosexuality anymore. Intellectually, morally, I still believe it's wrong and I could list for you why, but I also believe that people sometimes can't help it, and it's foolish to condemn out-of-hand those who are only following their hearts. Contradictory, maybe, but there you go.

It's also a big deal to me that I am heavily drawn to witchcraft, but have chosen to not pursue it due to those same basic convictions.

Due to my Christianity. Which I have tested, tried, and tempered in enough ways that I am no longer furious at those "open-minded" folk who tar all Christians with the same brush; what would be the point? I merely need to look elsewhere for intelligence and understanding.

One truth that I'm not sure most agnostics or atheists ever realize is that sometimes, there's as much pleasure in resisting a temptation as there is in submitting to it. More than that, strength. You cannot protect your weak points if you do not know where they are, and you cannot defend your beliefs if you do not know what weapons (arguments) your attacker will likely use.

Why am I admitting these things now where people who know me can read them? Dunno. I sure hope my mother doesn't find this out, but then I've said a lot of things here before that I'd prefer she never discovered.

We started discussing politics last weekend, and she's a thorough Republican conservative, as is my father. To give them credit, they base these beliefs on *their* personal convictions, and have been known to vote for Democrats when the issues line up in ways they can approve. However. I told her that I had registered as an Independent, since I tend to cross the line on several issues, and can't really claim to belong to either party. She got immediately worried, of course.

I think my diary is beginning to near the end of its purpose for me. Oh, I'm not quitting again, not anytime soon ... but I can see the closing of it now, where I couldn't before, like a milepost on my Journey of Discovery. I've found a bit more of the map, and I am, for once, pleased with my progress.

Blessings.