Write Me Up

Official writing with some random thoughts

up May 31, 2013

Filed under: General Blog-tastic Writings — Dorothy Lynn @ 4:58 pm
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date.

yup. i felt obliged to post at least something to let the world know that I haven’t abandoned it. 

So, here is a picture of a hilarious fish at a Chinese restaurant. Why does every Chinese restaurant have a fish tank with adorable comical fish in it? My friend John took this picture with his iPhone. He works for apple so he was of course gushing about the amazing quality.

Image

Why are fish so comical? I love it. 

I will soon write a post about my trip to New York last weekend, but I am still processing it. When I take trips and they turn out to be more than just normal, it takes me awhile to think through what happened and put it into adequate words. It will happen though. I am just digesting.

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YAY! May 23, 2013

Hopefully this summer I will be able to post at least once a week….and they should be pretty interesting posts, because I am going to Alaska!!!!

I’m going with a ministry that I went with before, and I have to raise support for it. I started kind of late, and didn’t get lots of responses from people. It was kind of frustrating, but I knew that no matter what, I was still going to go. Well, tonight, some of my friends just told my roommate and I (she is going too), that they will cover the rest of our support!!!!!! HOLY CRAP, MAN!!!!!! (to be fair, I didn’t say crap when they told us….hey, nobody is perfect.)

This is such a weight off my chest. I have been praying about this for weeks. The first awesome response was from one of my family members who gave me a really amazing gift for the trip, and now this happens!

I kind of suck at the fundraising thing…like…really really really suck at it. I am just bad at getting motivation to ask for money, or even once I have asked, it just seems like I am stuck in a no-fundraiser-for-you bubble. Yet somehow, every time I have to raise funds and God wants me to go somewhere, the money comes in. Last time I went to Alaska, I got the EXACT amount of support I needed on the day that the trip started. yet, for some reason, I still get eenchy and annoyed and doubt God whenever I am in these situations. Silly me…

So there you have it, blogging for the summer from the amazing state of Alaska (and the other states we pass through while we are driving up there, and Canadian amazingness and nature!!!!) It should be an interesting couple of months!

 

Running May 19, 2013

Filed under: General Blog-tastic Writings — Dorothy Lynn @ 10:29 pm
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Although I am horrible at running as an activity, I am really quite good at it figuratively. I have lots of practice in running away from my problems, or things that I’m scared of, but I think I am starting to learn how to run toward things now. Like running toward the people in my life that will help me, and running toward the things that God has for me.

So this song is quite appropriate for me right now. And I pray that it is appropriate for anyone else who reads this that needs to know that it is okay to run, as long as you are running towards the answer, and not away from it.

“Run”

Stoplights, breakdown, we cry, last try
Worlds collide, time to decide
Where you want to go in this great big world
Where you want to go in this great big world
Stuck here too long in this sad song
Lost in a street, everyone has
Vanished and you’re all alone
But you don’t know where to go
Yeah you’re all alone
And you want to go home
Run just as fast as you can
Run, ’til you reach the end
Where the fallen finally land
And your world starts over again
Run

Next page, new day, finding my way
Stumble upon the strength to move on
I am not alone in this great big world
And you are not alone in this great big world

Run just as fast as you can
Run, ’til you reach the end
Where the fallen finally land
And your world starts over again
Run

Run now don’t you look back
Run towards the light straight ahead
Where the lost souls make a beautiful sound
And new life is finally found
Run

Your free, free falling
A new beginning
This is our time

Run just as fast as you can
Run, ’til you reach the end
Where the fallen finally land
And your world starts over again

Run now don’t you look back
Run towards the light straight ahead
Where the lost souls make a beautiful sound
And new life is finally found
Run

Here is a link to the song 🙂

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JlTiDD4baH0

 

Part Three May 17, 2013

Filed under: General Blog-tastic Writings — Dorothy Lynn @ 10:41 pm
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“You know when you see something so beautiful that you can’t breathe? It’s like an asthma attack, but not in your lungs. Deeper than that.”

“Of course. Like when you cry because you are happy.”

“No, more than that. It’s when you want to cry, but you can’t because it is too lovely. It means too much. And it’s not happy at all. Beauty doesn’t mean happy. It just–it pricks something else inside of you. Not inside, exactly, because it is all around too. That’s why it is hard to breathe when it happens, because it presses from the inside and the outside, at the same time, but just for a moment.”

“I’m not sure. That kind of sounds like emotions to me.”

“Well…yes. And no.”

‘So, do you mean like when you see a gorgeous sunset or listen to a good song?”

“No. Those are beautiful, but too tangible. This only happens with complicated, tangled-up beauty. Like when you read the old stories where someone dies and you are sad, but they had a purpose and it was beautiful. See, but explaining it trivializes it. It is SO much more!”

“But, what’s the point, Sophie? Why does it matter?”

“Because. It matters. Those moments are the only moments when it doesn’t hurt. Even though I can’t breathe, I feel connected. Connected to that other part of myself. The part that takes over when I have my fits. The part that is dying. It isn’t dying in those moments. It is part of me.”

“Sophie, there is no other part of you. Those moments are beautiful, and we all experience something like that occasionally, though it manifests itself differently for each person. But the fits are not connected to that. The fits are physical. And experiencing beauty is emotional. Nothing more.”

“How do you know that? How do you know, without any doubt, that there isn’t another part of me? Nothing else makes sense, and I can feel it. During my fits I can see it. It is outside of emotional and physical.”

“I know you feel that way, but if you can’t admit there is a delusion, you will never stop the fits.”

“This isn’t helping. How can you help me if you won’t believe me? You ask me to explain what I feel during my fits, and I am explaining, but if you don’t believe me, how can I fix it? Why won’t anyone believe me? Why can’t anyone SEE it? Why am I here? What is the point?”

“Sophie, calm down. Let’s take a break, okay? I will try to believe you, but I won’t indulge in your delusions. Just take a deep breath.”

“But I can’t, don’t you see? Breathing doesn’t MATTER anymore! I am dying and you are dying, and we are all dying. I can start to see it now. You are covered with it. You are smoldering! My hands are covered with it. All of my skin is covered. Yours too! It’s–you–how can you not SEE it? How?? It’s burning! It’s burning!”

“Nurse, I need some sedatives in here, quickly please.”

 

The doctor calmly lowered herself to the floor and held Sophie’s head in her lap as she waited for the nurse to come with the sedatives. Sophie convulsed in a seizure, but still muttered unintelligibly about burning, red things and dying. The doctor took a deep breath and closed her eyes. This was one of the worst cases she had seen. How can a normal girl go from being calm and coherent and intelligent one second, to this in the next? What is happening?

 

 

Part Two May 7, 2013

Filed under: General Blog-tastic Writings — Dorothy Lynn @ 10:08 pm
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“Your sister had one of her breakdowns again yesterday. It was worse this time,” she said as she scraped the last of her husband’s eggs into the garbage disposal. “Your mom called me last night while you were at work.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you tell me?” he replied, sounding unconcerned.

“I would have, but you were so tired when you got home from work last night. It was late. I didn’t want you to be worried.”

He shook his head. “I keep telling her that she needs to go see a doctor, it’s all psychological you know, this problem of hers.”

“I know, but she seems so convincing. It’s like she is in another world altogether. Sometimes I can almost believe that she really is seeing things the way she describes it. Your mom wanted to take her to the hospital, but Sophie kept saying that she couldn’t move, that it hurt too much.”

“Why didn’t she call an ambulance?” he asked. And why didn’t you call me? he thought.

“I guess she was afraid to. When she called me she sounded really scared. I could hear Sophie in the background. It didn’t sound good, but…I didn’t know what to do.” She wiped down the counter and then sat across from her husband at the kitchen table. “I should have called you.”

“It’s okay, Ginny. I couldn’t have done anything anyway. I’ll call her today, to see how she is doing. Maybe I can convince mom to take Sophie to see someone.” He folded up his newspaper and tucked it into his briefcase. He didn’t want to talk about this, not now.

“Okay.” Ginny stood up and wandered to the cupboards, looking for something to do with her hands. “I hope she will be okay,” she muttered. “She’s only seventeen.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, Ginny. Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry you had to hear my mom so upset.” Not now. Not now. Why do you always have to TALK about things like this?  He wanted to yell at her to drop it, but he knew he couldn’t.

“No, I don’t mind that. It’s just, if you had heard her, Sam, it was like she was a different person. I don’t want to worry you, but I think that something might actually be wrong with her.”

He ignored the last comment. “She just needs to go to a counselor, a priest, anything, and she could get better. It’s the belief in a thing that heals you, not the thing itself. Her problem is that she doesn’t want to get better.” He was impatient now, and more than anything wanted to escape to his car, his job, somewhere to get out of this discussion.

“I suppose I agree,” she said with a reluctant nod. “It’s just that sometimes…sometimes it feel like there could be more to it than that.”

“Maybe. But don’t get too caught up in your feelings or you’ll end up just like my sister,” he chided. “I have to go, honey. I promise I’ll call my mom tonight. And let me know if she calls you again, okay?” He kissed her on the cheek as she stood at the counter, grabbed his briefcase, and walked out the back door.

Ginny opened the cupboard next to the refrigerator took out a coffee mug, and slammed the door shut. How can he be so cold and exacting toward his own sister? she asked herself. And to me? Just for suggesting that Sophie might need more than a good talking to? Where is his heart? She threw her coffee mug into the sink and sat down at the table again. She put her head in her hands and closed her eyes, trying to overcome the frustration. When she opened her eyes, for a split second, she saw nothing but a faint red gleam surrounding her. She blinked it away, shook her head, and went back to the sink to finish cleaning the dishes.

 

Part One May 6, 2013

“Who are you?” he demanded. “What kind of nonsense is this?”

“You’re dying,” she replied sadly. “And you don’t even know it.”

“Look at me though. I’m perfectly healthy.”

“Do you know where you came from?” she asked him.

“Of course. I’ve read all the history books same as you.”

“No, I mean before all that, before the history and science and philosophy. You know there is more to it than that, don’t you?”

“Is there? How could there be?” he asked.

“Where do you think your Umbra came from?

“Umbra? What do you mean? That’s just an old wives tale from before the Philosophers. It’s been proved as myth. Do you, perhaps, mean my brains, or my emotions?”

“No, I mean your Umbra, the other part, the separate part. It is not myth.” she replied.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only have one part to myself. It’s just me. That’s all I have.” he stuttered.

“Oh, but it isn’t. If only you could see, if only you could read the history before the Philosophers. Would you be willing to see it?”

“What, my…Umbra?”

“Yes.”

“Well…okay, why not?” he was skeptical, but after all, she was just a girl. What could she do to him? Better to indulge her fantasy so she’d leave him alone sooner.

“It might hurt.” she warned.

“Whatever.” He didn’t believe anything would happen anyway. She reached out and touched his arm. She held on and a shocking jolt ran through him. “It didn’t hurt.” he remarked. “Just like a tingle, really.”

“Open your eyes.” she told him.

He hadn’t realized they were closed. Blackness engulfed him. Where had the daylight gone? Everywhere, everything was a deep, dark, acrid black. He looked down at himself and saw his hand. It too was dark, but as he inspected it closer he saw it was a dull, writhing red, a raw infestation of flesh-like shadows that roiled and moved sickeningly. It made him nauseous and he could feel his knees hit the ground. He frantically picked himself up and ran to the nearest red shadow. He grabbed its arm, and it turned its face to him. He almost vomited when he beheld the horror of the diseased crimson eyes and the crawling nose sneering down at him. It was too much, his heart cried. My heart? he thought. What is my heart? All he knew was that it was terribly painful. Save me! Someone save me now! he screamed inwardly. His legs buckled once again and he remained there, prostrate on the ground, slowly but surely dying from that pain. A cool hand touched his head and he looked up with tortured eyes. A blinding blue-green glow poured down onto his face.

“Who are you?” he demanded again. This time his question was of vital importance to him.

“I’m alive,” was her answer.

“What is…this?” he held up his crawling, bloodied hand.

“It’s your Umbra. It’s the other part of you, the part that runs your life force.”

“How did I not feel this pain before? Why does no one see this? Is this why people are dying? Do you see this all the time?”His voice escalated with each urgent question.

“Come with me.”

“Take away this pain first. You did this to me. Now you have to take it away.”

“This is how you’ve always been. This sickness is your own, and no one else’s. I simply opened your eyes to it.”

“How do I get rid of it then? Can’t I just go back to how it was?”

“Come with me.” she repeated.
“But how—“

“Just come.” she started to walk away, pulling him with her, for her cool hand was still holding onto his. Were it not for this, he could not have risen at all. The pain was not physical. It was not even the pain of thinking too hard or the pain of deep emotional distress. It was much deeper, more inward, as if it belonged to a different realm of existence, a realm that he knew had been there, but was locked away and, overjoyed at its sudden release, had overtaken his senses and rebelled against him violently. He had no choice but to follow this girl, no choice but to discover how to end the suffering.