It was my first year of high school—circa 2001—and as a course requirement, the freshman were obliged to take a class on leadership development. Mrs. Carpenter taught us all the essentials for making a good first impression. Shake hands this way. Say this. Don’t say that.
The author would like to acknowledge "next steps", both generally and insofar as he is concerned. He was asked recently what his next steps were and he had no good answer for it. The author has truly never been good at answering such questions
While we’re talking about coffee, the author would like to acknowledge two things: one, that he is drinking coffee as he writes this; and two, that the people who come into coffee shops every single day--you know the kind I’m talking about,
That honest is not his best policy. The author is not a liar in the conversational sense of the word--if someone asked him a question, he would answer honestly and with his heart and most definitely accept all negative and peripheral consequences as a result.
As I was minutes away from sending online applications to clothing retail stores so I could try and make a penny, I contacted a mentor of mine to ask about using him as a reference. He called me within two minutes and told me to stop what I was doing
I find that honesty--for me anyway--is most feasible in the third person. Some “imaginary”, unknown author, possible a male, who anonymously writes about someone else will be perceived as less guilty compared to the actual perpetrator, and frankly, I (Skyler) can’t handle that kind of pressure.
This blog piece I had in mind was an essay, and this essay would have been my hard-fought attempt at breaking past all those wretched mental barriers I set up for myself as it related to addressing---through writing---the Audience.
In a time where miracles and wondrous works and supernatural acts occurred how could God’s people not see His work being done before their eyes? He parts a sea of water, literally, the Red Sea, before their eyes and allow them to cross on dry land, and they can’t trust Him and don’t see Him.
Writing is the engine to organizing thinking. Writing, intrinsically, pushes the pistons of thinking in, out, in, out, in, out. It expels the gunk of the mind and smears it onto paper. For me, there is something profound within this hopeful daily act that extends far deeper into my heart and soul than the act of writing itself.
So it begins, ten days in, the usual but slightly-more-exciting-than-last-year humdrum of the new year. Stockings once filled are now emptied and stored away. Trees once decorated now decompose in the backyard cold.