Skip to main content

The Curse of the Blinking Cursor

It's the curse of the blinking cursor.

Here it is, sitting innocently in the middle of the text box, waiting for me to find the words to type in so it has a point and purpose. It's never done anything to me. It just wants me to do something with it.

And the problem isn't with the cursor. It's with me, the writer. I'm the one who can't find the words to say. I'm leaving the blinking cursor to just blink away... alone and miserable. All the reasons or excuses for it don't matter. This is my fault. *sigh*

Right now, I feel a lot like the blinking cursor. Like I'm just sitting, waiting for God to type the next sentence, write the next word, in my story, and He hasn't done it yet. Has He stopped? Ah, no. But I just feel like He has - mostly because things aren't going exactly the way I imagined they would when He told me I was supposed to come back to Phoenix. Why I thought they would, I don't know. It's not like He's ever done things my way in my life before...

I do keep busy, though. Just like the cursor. While I'm waiting, I'm not sitting still. It's just the uncertainty of everything that is supposed to be coming next. I like to be in the know, so not being it is something I can barely tolerate at this point. Translation - I have a ton of questions that I feel like aren't getting answered.

And, so ironic - when I grabbed my Ipod and started listening to a random playlist, the second song ends up being Clay Walker's song "A Few Questions". Even the blinking has a purpose for my cursor, and this is one of those times where I need to just be content to blink and wait for the next chapter to unfold. Thanks, God.

Just because I don't know if you'll get why unless you hear the song yourself, I'll post it here.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Metaphors: Candles

I've recently fallen in love with candles. Since coming home from the World Race , I've bought at least one a month. My favorite candles are the ones that come in glass jars - because when they burn out, I can clean the remaining wax out and put the jars to other uses. Right now,  that means they get cleaned out and packed away in anticipation of my move to Flagstaff. But as I was lighting one tonight (vanilla spice... Thanksgiving smells? Yes, please!), I saw a metaphor for writing flickering away in the flame licking at the wick and melting the wax. I suppose it could be a metaphor for life in general, but since the theme of this blog is writing... Well, you do the math.

Book Review: The Excalibur Alternative

Happy Thursday, everyone. Here is July's book review for general consumption. Since the book I am reviewing is the third in a series, a potential  SPOILER WARNING   is in effect if you have not read the Ranks of Bronze series. The Excalibur Alternative (Ranks of Bronze #3) David Weber, 2002, Baen Books Summary: It's just another day at war for Sir George Wincaster and the group of 14th-century English soldiers he leads until they are abducted by aliens who are part of the Galactic Federation. Stuck in outer space and used as mercenaries to conquer the populations of low-tech planets, they wonder if they will ever make their way home. An unexpected opportunity comes their way when a member of another alien race, who is also being subjugated by the Galactic Federation, approaches Sir George with a proposition to take over the ship and win back their freedom. Will he take them up on it, and what will the consequences be? Opinion: I confess, I did i...

[Five Minute Friday] Purpose

Fiber bars, strewn along the side of the road. There had to be at least a dozen of them, still in their wrappers and completely unopened. No box in sight. Really? That's about the reaction my younger sister and I had when we stumbled on them on our early morning run. Really? along with disgusted sighs about the wastefulness of it. These were the expensive ones, not a generic store brand that kind of tastes and kind of looks the same sometimes. So, when we weren't keeping an eye out for their box, we speculated about what had happened. And wondered how many more we were going to see before the end of our run. "Maybe they took one bite and thought they were gross," my sister said. "So they threw them out because they didn't want them anymore." I let out one of those disgusted sighs and nodded along with her theory. "Yeah, or they got in a huge fight, and threw them out in a fit of rage." "That's a possibility." And...