Check.Check.Testing

Him

This morning I've been meditating on the glory and wonder of the Lord. It has been wonderful; simply saying the name of Jesus brings me so much life.

Spending time with Him is so sweet. Honestly, it is the only time in the day where I feel like I'm completely known and understood; at peace. Though our time has been a tad dry recently, part of it has been my lack of focus but also, as I have realized recently, the return to some faulty thinking.

This happens often enough for me to have to kick myself in the proverbial shin. I start to look at my time with Him as a feel good therapy session, belittling His presence and power to a vending machine type of relationship. If I put in two quarters of quiet time then I'll get 2 ounces of peace. all of that quality time becomes me-focused, making me happy so I can feel something. Our time becomes dull and lifeless; shorter and shorter, to where I'm only spending 10 to 15 mins with him before I run off to work.

This morning I began to meditate on nature and how consistently satisfying it is to my soul. A sunrise never leaves me disappointed or a bird's song leave me lacking. Instead I always want more. Why is this? What is it about nature that leaves me yearning for more of it, yet at peace and satisfied at the same time? It is in fact revealed in it's inception. At the beginning. The world was created that the majesty, wonder, beauty, etc,... of the Lord would be recognized and thus He would be given glory; reverent recognition.

Nature, unlike man, has stayed true to its original intention to bring God that glory. The trees were not given free will in as much as the eagles were. As part of their innate make-up they declare the glory of the Lord. *Psalm 19* This was how it was intended. Because creation still operates under this we experience the benefits and are refreshed.

I was created under the same pre-tense, to glorify my maker as His image bear. Unfortunately, humans have strayed off the beaten path and have become self-worshipers; consumed with our own happiness and comfort. As yet sinners, saved by grace, this self-veneration seeps into our relationship with the Lord as well. Our precious moments with Him become therapy sessions, a Jesus fix, upon it's receipt of peace we leave, nary to return till we need him again. If we are already of the disciplined sort and dutifully spend time with Him every day because that is what we ought to do we become brazenly depressed and dissatisfied all the more as we spend our "supposed to" time with him. Still not getting what we desire or what we think we need.

Yet, my dear brothers and sisters, it was never designed to work that way. We receive all the blessings we do because they are the side effects of His goodness and grace. Not because we spend 10 or so min. with Him each morning.

Ought we not to thank Him? To have our worship last throughout the day, in gratitude. Joy stemming out of gratitude, gratitude out of worship, worship of of realization of His presence and realization stems out of recognition. To simply state the names of God, the wonders of His hands, how we are breathing in air, clothed and covered by the blood of Jesus. This is all glorifying the God of the ages.

This morning as I mentioned back to Him His blessings, speaking out scripture and praising His existence and love I began to feel all that I had desired to feel. Somehow, when I took the focus off me and my needs, my needs were met. That truly what my soul needs is to glorify my maker. Then all peace, joy, life comes soon thereafter; all as I am aligning my heart with it's ordained purpose.

A Non-Reccomend: Robin Hood 2010

Now this might seem like quite the pretentious undertaking to take on a movie that claims to be the: "Number one movie in the world!" But I've never been one to be easily intimidated, so this is no biggie.

A few nights ago I sat in my comfy pleather cinema seat, munching on over-buttered popcorn and dreaming up visions of epic grandeur as per perscribed in the bombastic previews I had veiwed over the last couple of months. Chalk it up to grandiose expectations or bad movie munchies but the movie really wasn't all that great. It was nothing more than a fancied up introduction to the original and well-loved story that we're all familiar with: Prince John is a cad is ticked off with Robin Hood, kidnaps maid Miriam, exploits the already sketchy and morally grey Sherriff of Nottingham, Prince John challenges Robin Hood to a duel of the archery sort and Robin wins, etc.. etc... Well, you might be shocked to know that none of these events, omitting the Prince John is a cad part, are run over in this film. It all is really an introduction, a pre-quel if you will...a two and a half hour pre-quel.

The whole time I was wanting the movie to just get on with it! Sure the parts where Robin puts together his and of merry men are sorta neat. Little John is portrayed by that brutish slash smarmy, in my opinon ,bad guy from Lost(Martin Keamy.) That was weird. Maid Miriam was sassy, contrary, predictable. Sadly, it was exactly that: the predictability of this movie that really killed it for me. Which was odd, considering I knew nothing of this "back story" in the first place!

Also- funnily- is that a word? While I was watching the movie, maybe in an attempt to entertain myself from the drudgery of the Number one Movie in the World! I kept thinking back upon Disney's rendition of the story, you know, the one where the characters are portrayed by fuzzy woodling creatures? Well I guess not all of them, some were elephants. Yup, that movie was better.

Positives? The Movie was pretty looking.

But don't take my word for it, see it for yourself and be deeply disapointed.

Awhile Away

I apologize ahead of time for apologizing again. I have yet again let a few or more weeks go by since my last update-dge. I'd like to say it won't happen again and that I'll be steadfast and dutiful to my blogging affiliation, I really would! Despite my absence I quite often think about this blog and how I'd like to be writing in it. Does intention count?

Wonderfully, the stage of life I'm in has put me in the midst of a whirlwind of good things, all of which take time and attention and emotional investment at that. You understand how difficult it is to communicate at all when exhausted. Let alone convene your thougths enough to put them down on paper. The sad scribblings in my journal, as of late, can testify to that. You wouldn't know to differentiate the words from the spaces, from the commas, from the doodles. It's just where my brain has been lately.

Some good things:

I auditioned for Glee.

Here's the link

No, I'm not taking this seriously. However! I will say it's been an elephant butt load of fun(the elephant here is to emphasize the immensity of fun. Some butts are just not that big,) not only to do the actual audition, which took numerous takes, but also to see the amount of support I've received. Something like 20,000 gold stars! Thanks guys for voting! I think that's good... though I'm sure in the end, and this is my theory, it'll turn out to be this whole big marketing scheme just to get people to watch Glee and they'll end up casting a professional. They always do. I think I'm the only person who remembered that open casting call they had for Home Alone 3 and how millions of snotty nosed 8-12 year olds swarmed to malls for a chance at cinematic glory. I actually thought Home Alone 3 was a riot. All that...just to hire a kid who was with a talent agency and had a resume. Like I said, marketing scheme...might I say, a genius one.

I had a photo shoot
As some of you might know! I like to dabble in the arts of singing and songwriting. A little more than dabble really. I remember a conversation with an olde, seasoned,famous ragtime musician and I remember him saying, " Honey, you know you're a career muscian when you can't help but do it. That's how you know." I remember being quite impacted by those words and the more I grow as a musician the more I realize how right he was. I truly can't help but do it. It's in my blood and how I was created *Psalm 13.* So I'm recording my ep this July and the photo shoot(s) for the album and website happened a few days ago. Honestly. So much fun! Know for sure that I'll post a link to the website once it launches in August. You'll be able to find it on itunes after September 14th( my launch date.) My muse is an olde, cruiser bicycle. Cannot WAIT for what is in store in the next few months.

Wedding(s) Glore!
Tis the season to be married! Fa la la la la, la la la la. Honestly, I have four this summer...maybe five. I'm not entirely sure if I'm invited to that one. I've sang in one and am in another( my bff Elaine is getting married!). The othes are fairly low key though there is still traveling to be had, gifts to be bought and bridal showers to attend. The way I've viewed weddings has changed over the years, at first with mild disdain for the amount of time required for me to sit still, then with weepy longing as a teeenager wondering mournfully if my time would ever come! Now, I like them! They're beautiful and I'm so into the late night dance parties. I like weddings...for the most part. All but the bouquet toss. I find myself finding an excuse to run to the bathroom whenever that dreadful occurrence happens. Why you might ask? Well! I don't know about you, but if you're single, weddings have a knack of reminding you of your single-hood about every .2 seconds. It gets even worse when most of your friends are also married and feel the compulsion to set you up with people, at the weddings, as to not make you feel as exposed, and to somehow commiserate in the sometimes awkwardness of this friend's existence in the midst of couplings. Another slightly uncomfortable occurrence is what happens to guys at weddings. Those of the male sex, who are normally footless, fancy free not wanting to be tied down kind of men outside of a marital celebration, once taken to a wedding suddenly seem to realize their impending biological clock. "Wow, this marriage thing is sorta Awesome! I want to get married!" Enter the bouquet toss... and every man, now with a heightened awareness of their single hood starts looking at the single ladies and wondering, " Ooo, is she wife material??" Nuhuh, don't act like you don't know what I'm taking about men. I know, because I do it too...that is exactly why I run to the restroom.

There really is so much more... but I gotta go. Check ya laters!

Recommendation #6

#6 Look it up!

This might shock some of you(:p) but I do, regularly, use a dictionary and a thesaurus! It is true. I realize that this might get me in trouble with some of the more serious bloggers who use the words "sagacious" and "dendrite" on a regular basis and would be thinking I'm playing a part when I use words that are more of the impressive genre but I'm not embarrassed to say it, I do look things up! Those who would judge once opened their Websters as well, whether they admit it or not, and I'll tell you why.

1) Because reading, where we often stumble upon new words, is not only an opportunity to use one's imagination but to expand one's knowledge. If I were to simply graze over the meaning of "presentiment," without a glance at my dictionary, I might just lose the meaning of a sentence, completely, which is a travesty in it of itself. The author used that word for a reason. But by not investigating it's meaning I am also limiting my current vocabulary and my ability to engage readers as similarly in my own writing. This leads me to my next point.

2) Why? Because a vocabulary adds to the beauty of composition. A sentence could read," The little boy was sad" but where is the luster, the pow, the piece de resistance in that? It is far more glorious to say,"The child was inconsolable, despondent, doleful," and I have inferred that dutiful inspection of a word as well as how that word is used is more than vital to one's writing. Otherwise, one finds their writing to become dull and tad bit boring, full of commonplace descriptors and analogies.

I have become more aware of the ever rarer population of word lovers and just simply, literature lovers nowadays and it sadly shows. It seems that one need only to listen to two people converse in a coffee shop, a bar, the gym, at Panera to know that we have become nothing more than primordial sloths limited to uninspired discourse: " And like, she didn't have to say that, it was completely rude and stupid." " Ya, she was a total !@#% to you." Now please, don't get me wrong, I am not a grammatical nazi who gets hacked off every time someone uses the word "like" too much or uses a word incorrectly. I'm guilty on both counts of literary negligence. However, it does cause me to wonder about our future children whose vocabulary will be nothing more then a collection of primary sentiments and colorful expletives.

So I guess there are two recommends here, in one. 1) Read more folks! 2) And look up your dang words!

The manner in which we communicate separates us from the animal kingdom. Those of which are limited to grunting, barking and a variety of other noises. I don't know about you, but I much prefer words.

P.S. If you're reading this, odds are you hold some respect for literacy. I realize I'm preaching to the choir.

Recommendation #5

#5. Writing in your blog

So, just as I was about to rest my weary feetsies from a hard day's work of cooking and burning a traditional Puerto Rican meal(yes it did take me all day;) I remembered a statement I made this morning to my buddy Steven: " I will write in my blog today;" and integrity prevented me from taking my Nyquil and hitting the hay. Yes, I do realize it is no longer today where I am in Texas but it is in California(where Steven resides) and this blissfully means I have two more solid hours before it is, in fact, no longer today. Woho!

Time Zones are sweet.

So hello guys! Aw, it has been way to long. Some of you might be wondering, "What happened?" "Did you die!?" What dramatic occurrence awakened you from your blogging sleep to, gasp, post in your blog? Well, no, I didn't die. That's a dumb question. I came back because of a comment ole Stevo, as previously mentioned, made on his Facebook Status:

"The World is Full of Neglected Blogs."

Reading that dug a spear into my heart engraved with the words, Conviction. It's been awhile. Of course, as many, I have a list of very acceptable excuses! I have been busy, I have been distracted and I have been pre-occupied with to-do(ery.) It is a very affirming feeling to have checked off your way through your day. *Write in Blog never seemed to get crossed out though and why?

Because I was scared.

I know! It may sound ridiculous and I'll concede, maybe somewhat confusing. But this blog became an ominous cloud of intimidation. A dutiful occupation that had begun to suck me dry of all my literary inspiration, as minuet as it may be. People liked reading what I wrote (imagine that!) and the knowledge of that grew into a grappling fear of possibly producing material that people would not want to read. "Would they still like me?" I asked. Really, Nichole, are you five years old? The more I grow older the more I realize that we all are still snotty nosed children fearful of not being chosen. But that's for another time.

So, you're right Stevie. There are a whole lot of neglected blogs floating around our internetary hemisphere and thanks for the reminder. I don't want to be one of them. I gave this blog the title that it has because of my commitment to being true about myself. I guess I mentally got away from that, from me.

Here's to you, Blog, you winding array of musings and ruminations. I've ignored you far too long. I'm still Nichole, nonetheless.

Cat Whisperer

My Grandpa is finally home! Hurray and Hallelujah! Although the past two weeks have been fraught with stress and tribulation and more to come, there have been many bright rays of funnies to lighten up the dreariness. Here is one of my favorites.

Being here in Puerto Rico is always an "experience." I say that because I never leave without a armful of memorables and hysterical stories. What can I say, the Island's good to me. As you might have assumed I have been staying at my Grandparents house. There are so many shadows of childhood scattered about this place and finding myself lost in thought is not uncommon. However, for all it's charm, it comes with it's fair share of interesting.

Their house is in fact situated in the bustling metropolis of greater San Juan; Otherwise known as, the Jetto or Ghetto for all my literal folks. As a child I don't remember it being as it is now, a sprawling collection of bus driving, reggaeton blaring, poultry raising crazies but it is what it is and at least my Grandparents aren't in want of company.

My moment of enlightenment came my first night. I was exhausted from my non-stop flight from LAX to San Juan earlier that morning, which was quite a unforgettable affair enough as it was. There I was, in the middle seat. To my right the businessman, nothing too exciting there but to my left a women sporting ski pants. What an absorbing choice considering we were Caribbean bound. I had been catching up on LOST and even considered the ludicrous notion that perhaps she too had ventured into an icey room, spun the magic wheel, moved the island and hadn't yet had time to change. For those who are not as ridiculously addicted as I am to the show and have no idea what I'm talking about. I apologize. I eventually decided against asking why she had curiously chosen that trouser, for fear that perhaps I was just seeing things and then that would just be awkward." Uh, these are jeans." Anyways, I digress.

The first night I fell asleep to the sound of chirping frogs, various insects... my neighbors off pitch Luis Fonsi memorials. I was too fatigued to care. However, at about two o'clock in the morning the fun began. At first, it was a dwarfish moan, and then another equally so would follow after a few seconds. It sounded like someone was calling for help. I turned over and drew my teddy closer, telling myself I was just hearing things and "don't be ridiculous." Yet there it was again! This time the pleas weren't spaced apart but were becoming all the more rapid. High pitched and feverish I buried my head in my pillow in attempt to escape the screams now that were filling my ears. As they reached a climax I sprung out of bed and like a ninny, rushed, well more like hobbled, to my Aunt and shook her awake. " TiTi. Do you hear the voices!?" I demanded. You could just imagine the look on her face as her dreary eyed neice shook her awake because she claimed to be hearing "voices." She handled it well I think. " No, Nichole, those are just some cats. Go back to bed." I didn't believe her, instead I opted to sleep with my Aunt. I was a tad shaken up and made a pact to lay off the LOST marathons.

As our neighbor drove us to the Hospital the next morning my aunt in the midst of lighthearted and cordial conversation mentioned the story to Dona Erma. As my Aunt recounted the prior night's events Dona Erma began to laugh and laugh...and laugh some more. As my spanish was a little rusty and I was still weary from my lack of sleep I couldn't make sense of my eldery chauffeurs response. What's so funny? I asked. She paused from her delight and responded: "Los gatos esta enamorado." Which translates to: They were doing the do.

In fact, I wasn't awakened by desperate pleas for help but instead by they orgasmic cries of some neighborhood cats. I couldn't help but laugh right along with her. Since that restless night I have purchased "ear seal" earplugs which although will keep me joyously traversing through dreamland might perhaps kill me if ever there was a situation where hearing was necessary, burning house, shrouded intruder for instance. I would have done anything to keep from being awakened by those feline wails again though. So that's a risk I'm more then willing to take.

To be honest though, a small part of me still wonders... if maybe, I'm a cat whisperer.