Today's Writing is: Christmas Carrots

Baby carrots? No, the most delicious carrots I've ever seen!

  I remember when I was little and the days seemed so much longer and shorter and brighter than these days do now. I remember flowers and clouds and vivid green grass. And I remember carrots.
    When I was very young my mom had a garden by the house in which she grew tomatoes. One summer she let my older sister and I pick what we wanted to grow and I picked carrots. I was little enough that the idea that I had grown them made perfect sense; though I am positive that I dug once in the dirt and never watered them. I was probably three.
     A few weeks ago, I helped my lil' 2's and 3's in the church Christmas program. Wearing giant paper snowflakes around their necks like those disgusting Victorian collars--and looking adorable--they sheepishly walked, shuffled, and nudged their way onto the stage with the help, prodding, and herding of myself and two other adults. They stood there rocking back and forth and twinkling their fingers until they were herded off stage to receive excessive and jubilant congratulations from their adoring public.
     Now, being about that age, they believed every word of praise. They were the best snowflakes ever. They had done a great job. And just like that: Christmas Carrots.

It's easier to be brave,or stupid, in groups. Groups in costume.

     I think it's important to believe with destructive naivete the encouragement you are given. Unlike those kids and three-year-old me, I have known people who could never, ever take a compliment well. A coworker of mine was once told by our boss that he enunciated well. He told me, "That's not a compliment. That just means he thought I was boring."
     Honestly, I'm not always great at this but I do try to quiet my inner critic enough to hear the legitimate praise others give me. It's very easy for self-doubt to masquerade as self-protection or the Whoa-There-Meter. Getting too big headed--Whoa There! Acting too rashly--Whoa There! Not believing yourself to be the utter failure that you really are--Whoa There! See? Sometimes the voice that tells you not to order that at-home massage from craigslist is also the voice the crushes your self-worth into itching powder. It may also crush you into not much of anything.
     If I told those kids that they were disorganized and boring, they would have never participated in another church program again. They would not want to try new things and, worst of all, they would believe failure to be a cardinal sin(also their parents would have stoned me). None of these things is healthy(particularly the stoning of young women). Few of these things are even true at all(hopefully the stoning of young women).
     I think that when trying new things or doing things you love, it is good to view yourself as a two-year-old. You grew those carrots all by yourself, you were the greatest snowflake ever, and everything you do wrong only makes you cuter. Personally, this kind of confidence helps me to step out, to not take myself too seriously, and to be more willing to be coached and corrected.
     Mostly I really like to think I'm awesome. That was a joke...kind of. I also think you're awesome. That's not a joke...kind of. I doubt the other people read my blog.
  

Today's Writing is: A Thank You Note in Disguise

"Illusions, Michael!" --Gob Bluth

When I sit down to write there are usually a few things I need. I used to think these things were as simple as coffee, iPod, pen and paper. But this is like when I thought Third Day was the best artist I'd ever heard and I just hadn't met Mumford and Sons yet. Recently, however, the fates have given me some well-timed little marvels. In fact, if coffee, iPod, and paper is like "Live out Loud,"  then these lil' guys are like "White Blank Page." Here they are:

     Marvel I) A red mug with a chalkboard speech bubble and two white chalk pieces. This mug was given to me by my pastors Pete and Tamar and it is perfection. Each morning I get up, fill it with coffee, and get ready. By the time I get in my car it's half empty and sitting snug in my cup holder; where it gets polished off by the time I get on camera. Then, at some point during or after the work day, Red and I go to a cafe where he's filled again with coffee and watches me write. Finally, we go home, get washed, and rest up for tomorrow morning. Red is now an essential part of my ability to quite myself enough to write. I see him as my own little VeggieTales friend who sits there supporting me adorably. 

Ya, that's cork board. Jealous? 

     Marvel II) A beautiful notebook designed and created just for me by my remarkable Aunt Cheryl. As it happens, I write all of my first drafts the old fashioned way, with pen and paper. I have just recently starting work on my first novel and having a place that is safe and clean and warm to put all of my precious characters, plots and tragedies is priceless. My secret hope is that the spirits of the muses that help Aunt Cheryl create such lovely cards may have taken up residence in these pages and will make my words equally lovely. A girl can hope.

     My highest accolades to Aunt Cher for making for me a notebook containing beauty, simplicity, functionality, inspiration, and class. Spot on. (Additional aunt accolades for delicious food, inviting me to Easter dinner every year, mothering my best friend and cousin, Taylor, and being fearlessly creative.)

     The thing I love most about these two gifts is that they come from my family and from my church family and it's just nice to have them close now that I'm doing something which requires bravery and the taking of risks.

     A giant thank you to Pete, Tamar, Aunt Cher, and Mom--who gave me the book for Christmas. I'll save you all a dedication somewhere in the future.:) 

Happy New Year, 

Miss Victoria Stern