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SARAH'S SCRIBBLINGS

April 20, 1998
4:26 a.m.

rambling about songwriting

A few years ago I started making tapes with songs I like that have similar themes. It's kind of like a stream of consciousness thing. I'll just put on the tape whatever comes to mind. Anyway, I sat up tonight doing this. It was really fun at first. Well, it was fun the whole way through, and I'm not done yet. But I got really worked up remembering somethings about myself that I wish had never changed. I can remember being moved enough at church that I cried for at least half an hour. No, it isn't that I want to sit in church and do that again. It's that I was that sensitive to what God was doing with me. That was a long time ago--at least a couple of years ago. I keep asking myself how I got here and how I get back. I thought I would sit down and play the piano for a while and write about it. I used to practice for hours. I got tired after about 15 minutes. It almost feels like I don't have the physical strength to play much any more. I'm so sad for the first time since I've been here at home! What have I done to myself by not practicing in so long? That's rhetorrical. Duh. I think I said that mostly out of shock and ... What do you call the way I'm feeling, anyway? I really need a list of words to describe feelings.

I just wrote a note to the songwriters list. I told them that if I wrote anything right now it would honestly be the case that God gave me a song because I just don't seem to have it in me. I miss writing so much! Something came to me last week, and it really has been bothering me for a while. I didn't say this on the list, and I think now that my take on it might be wrong. I sure hope so! It's the phrase, "Use it or lose it," and the story about the guys with the talents to invest. Have I lost what I didn't invest? Part of me says I haven't lost it yet and I need to just start practicing and let it develop again. The other part of me feels really hopeless. I guess I should know where that feeling comes from. (sigh) I am really sick of a certain someone messing around in my life. It's not funny or fun, and this is my life, not his.

Oh, well... I think I just wanted to ramble. Maybe I'll go to bed now. Maybe I'll just lay there and pet the cat.

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