I can't write. My soul wishes to say something, but when I try, it get's stifled. I'm trying, really. just... give me time.

I know this for sure... I want to do something with my life... and make this year something more than it's been so far. All I do is work for nothing more than the desire to keep my dad off my back. Not a very good motive. I want to move. Shake things up... but my dream seems further now more than ever. Ugh. I need a glass of wine... or something.

Untitled Thoughts

Here's the deal, people. I am writing again to humor you and mostly - myself. I think that writing is a great discipline that people pay to little attention to. Sitting where I am now, I can't help but see the importance of it based upon where I want to go. My life has so many lessons that could be fruitful for others. Or, I might write something ridiculous that will brighten your day.

So...

Here I start. Well, I kinda started a few days ago. Just go with it. I take ideas, criticism, and any other words put into an order that the common American can understand. Right. Next time, I promise more depth, or something entertaining.

The Humor of Discipline

This coffee shop is different – Mead’s Corner. Not only is it fair trade (which is super awesome), but it’s down town in Wichita. It only weirds me out because the last coffee shop I was in that was located in downtown anywhere was in Chicago, and there was a never ending string of people and cars flying by the window I was seated by (Ok, it was a Starbucks. Go figure, right?). Life moved quickly. The slight but steady elevation in my heart rate made it seem more chaotic than it actually was. I’m too small town to be in a city like that over a long period of time.

Sitting in that downtown Starbucks… across the street from another one… I was living a stubborn discipline. I didn’t know it was an act of discipline at the time, but I knew that I was being stubborn almost to an unbearable point for the recipient of the fall out. That’s almost her own fault, though. She took the job. Anywho, I digress. The trip to Chicago was very much destined to be life-altering. How? I had no idea at the time, and I still am uncovering different ways the Lord used that trip to bless the hell out of a number of people.

About 24 hours ago, I realized something else – completely unrelated to the trip – I am severely out of shape; or in an obvious physical shape (round). I did maybe 45 minutes of work and I wanted to pass out while strapped by my lungs to a tank of oxygen. Here’s the kicker. I have been like that before… out of shape. I just had the discipline to push through the pain and lack of oxygen that wasn’t being fed to my already fatigued muscles. I don’t miss college soccer. So, I’m driving home (still sucking wind) and I realize that mentally I have become lax and way below par for a course designed and played only by me (Such is life…). I had lost the mental determination to keep myself on task, and do the hard stuff and not give up. I lost the discipline. Damn it.

Enter: The idea that stemmed from an oxygen-deprived brain with connections (like the mafia, but way more internal and holy) to a soul searching for truth. In most areas of my life – mainly the ones that mean something to me – I am lacking a great deal of discipline to make my dreams a reality by the grace of God. Check it. Chicago was a vision given to me over a year before I actually went. I didn’t even pick up reading Scripture again until I was there, and even now I struggle to daily motivate myself to read even a few passages of the Word. It’s not a lack of motivation. It’s a lack of discipline. I lack the ability to sit and make myself grow because I let myself get lazy. I can’t point fingers to anyone but myself for falling into such horrid shape.

Here’s the awesome good news: I figured it out. Ha! I mean seriously. I knew something was missing, but really? Could it really be something as simple as discipline? I am sometimes too ridiculous for the term “ridiculous.” I deserve a medal for that, or maybe a cookie. I like cookies.

So, this is Phase 1 (out of a bigger number than one. I’m not sure how many phases there will be. Maybe it’s more like steps in a rehab program? Hello, I’m Lisa and I’m addicted to the idea of being awesome, I just can’t make myself go through with everything that comes with it. Nah… it’s by phase) of my Anti-Ridiculousness Campaign. Phase 1: Figure out what I can do to be less ridiculous. Check. Phase 2: Draw up a plan of action that doesn’t really need to be a plan of action, but give me some idea of what I should do with my schedule and how things could work. Half a check. Phase 3: Don’t suck, just do the damn thing (word to your mother, Vanilla Ice!). Imaginary check.

Ok, so those aren’t the actual phases, but it’s something I just drew up in the last 10 minutes or so. Give me time to put my ideas into words that aren’t ridiculous. Seriously. I need to rediscover the art of discipline in every day life. So, here goes nothing.