P. Meggy can't think

• Apparently.
• So this post is in semi-list form.
• No numbers, just kind of a list.
• Maybe I should put bullet points...(that would be too much work)
• I mentioned yesterday that my head has too much thoughts in it?
• Yeah
• (let it be noted that at this time I finally decided to add bullet points)
• Can you SEE the bullet points?
• .....anyway, well, I keep trying to write two POVs, but I get distracted.
• very easily.
• and I wish I had my card deck...
• I did learn a cardistry cut yesterday. It's very pretty. :)
• Fun stuff.
• Have I mentioned that our twitter feed comes up on the blog?
• Yeah, it's there, on the left of the posts.
• beneath the followers...
• I told Melissa she should read the blog today.
• DO YOU KNOW WHAT HER FIRST REACTION WAS?
• she asked me "has it been updated?"
• YES.
• IT HAS.
• MELISSA.
• I DID IT LAST NIGHT.
• GRRR
• so I'm updating it now, just to prove that I can blog two days in a row.

CREATIVE BURSTS OF CREATIVITY

It's what happens to me.
CREATIVE BURSTS OF CREATIVITY always come in groups. I get creative in something (ex. writing/short stories/challenges) and then it's like I can be creative in any aspect of thing. (ex. art/blogging/sometimes even poetry) Then the burst of creativity will decide it doesn't want me anymore, or I've simply done nothing with my thoughts and ideas, or I'm so stressed out I can't even begin to think about being creative, (this is definitely a run on sentence, by the way.) and then the creative burst will leave.
Why does this happen?
Because I don't keep doing things that cause me to need to be creative.
Oh yeah, that's right, that's why this blog is here. To give me and Cat distraction from other things. From other projects. To entertain the internets with stuff that doesn't suck. To be creative. To CHALLENGE us.
Ah, speaking of which, I just remembered I have a challenge for CAT!!!
But back on the original topic, (and I will deny I ever said this if and when it happens again) when Cat gives me a challenge I don't like, or don't want to do, it's really silly of me to not do it.
It's the whole point.
All I can think is..
DUH.


It's the word we use.



CHALLENGE.



We say that for a reason.



DUH.


Then it all goes full circle and the thought process repeats. That's what I've realized as I go back (with a creative burst of creativity, of course) and do challenges I either forgot about, skipped, or just got too busy to do.
Of course, I have no excuse for being too busy. Often I just won't ever feel like spending my few precious moments of free time writing.
It's sad, I know, and I am ashamed to actually say it on the blog. But it's the honest truth...
On a happier (and much more random) note,
Remember Melissa? One of the guest writers?
Yeah, she's a whovian, now. That was entirely my doing. :) (well, there was some help from the FNI, but you get what I mean)
Here I was thinking that if I couldn't get CAT to watch Doctor Who, I would never be able to get anyone to watch it with me.
Well, I was wrong.
And Cat's just not cool enough to watch a show the fun way. Out of order. :P Hahahaha...
But she's too busy with BONES and junk.
Well, maybe she can find sometime in her busy schedule of watching Bones instead of Doctor Who, to do this challenge.
What challenge, you ask?
I CHALLENGE YOU, CAT COOPER, to do what I have done. To go back, and do at least one challenge you have skipped.
Deja vu, you say? Yes, I have asked this of Cat before. Has it ever been accomplished? Not yet.
Maybe this time it will.
~P. Megz OUT!!!

Merry Christmas Eve!!! (Here's another story from a guest writer!)

"The Unconventional Christmas Gift" by Melissa!

I look through my closet trying to find something to wear because today is December 25, and that means today is the most anticipated family holiday of the year, for most people anyway. I feel like I’ve seen this all too many times before, so I move my eyes from my closet to the half open boxes lying around my floor full of the newest items in my wardrobe. “Santa” had done very well this year, yet it’s just not as exciting to get exactly what I want. I bend down to grab quite possibly the softest sweater ever created and pull it over my head as my hair starts sticking to ever surface within reach. (Don’t you just LOVE static?) 

“Lesley! Can you come help me finish cleaning before everyone get’s here?” 

“Yeah, Mom. I’ll be down in just a sec.” This is what my Christmas had become - a routine. I wish it could be more than that. Jesus is the reason for the season, right? Well, it hasn’t always been that way for me.

Uncle Allen is the last to arrive with twelve little gift bags filling his hands - one for each niece and nephew. I promptly shut the door behind him trapping in all the heat I can; Christmas in Massachusetts is brutal. As we enter the living room where all my family is waiting, I sneak a peak into the bags Uncle Allen has and see little envelopes in each one. I’m pretty sure of what these envelopes contain considering Uncle Allen’s new business has had the highest sales rates in Osterville this year. “Mom! Everyone’s here!” I yell across to the kitchen where she and the food await. I look over to my little brother Cayden and whisper, “The faster we eat; the faster we can open the presents, and I think Uncle Allen brought the perfect gift.” 

All the kids are shoveling in their food just trying to get enough before they can open presents. Although they finish in record time, the adults render their efforts futile. “We have to wait for everyone to finish eating before we can open presents,” my mother informed us all. A simultaneous sigh released from our lungs as if it had been practiced. I wait with very little patience but too much anticipation. Finally we gather round the Christmas tree with stacks of intricately wrapped boxes and bags stuffed with matching tissue piled high. My aunts and uncles along with my own parents begin grabbing the gifts with the names of their children on them when Uncle Allen announces, “I would like for the kids to open my presents last because I have some special planned this year.” 

“I knew it!” I mouth to my brother. “I wonder how much?” I ponder to myself. Once again our living room and its guests are submerged in wrapping paper, ribbon, bows, and all the other sorts of trash that come with Christmas time. 

Now we sit with Uncle Allen’s little gift bags in front of all twelve of us. “This may surprise you,” he states as we pull out the single piece of tissue separating us from the envelopes inside; they are plain white with no clue as to what they may contain. I eagerly rip the seal to find a folded piece of ordinary computer paper with Acts 20:35 printed across the top. Under that is a list of gifts I saw just last week in a newspaper article printed about the local Crisis Center. “Instead of buying you all presents this year, I decided that I would let you share in the idea expressed in Acts 20:35, ‘It is more blessed to give than receive.’ On your piece of paper is a list of toys that need to be donated to the Crisis Center in order for children in less fortunate families to have a good Christmas too. You can all pick one item, and I will donate it to the Crisis Center with your name on it. I wanted this Christmas to keep it’s focus on the reason we have Christmas at all. It’s not about the presents, it’s not about the decorations, it’s not about the delicious food we eat; the whole reason we celebrate on December 25 is because a baby was born over two-thousand years ago - a baby that would change the world.” 

Uncle Allen and I have become much closer this past year; especially since last New Year’s Eve he led me to accept Christ as my Lord, not just my fire insurance. I can’t even explain how much my life has changed. I still don’t have everything exactly figured out, but Christmas has become a time when I like to reflect on the one thing worth celebrating, my Savior. From His birth, Jesus knew that He was here so that He could one day hang on a cross - for you and for me. This year I realize how different I am particularly because I’m not even excited about the presents, well except for one. “I wonder what Uncle Allen will do this year,” I mention to my mom. 

“Honey, who knows. Who knows.”