of life, words, and fear

Two more weeks until Smokey and I leave for Louisiana. Can. Not. Wait. We’ve been planning a road trip, but I’m not sure now. We may fly. Either way, hurry up! I’ve met the rest of his family; it will be the first time I’ve met his mom and dad. Very nervous and very excited about that. Mostly, just excited to get away with him for eight days!
It was so great to get back from Outdoor Lab. I always enjoy that week, but by Wednesday, I’m always ready to get back home. Combine that with missing Smokey, you can imagine how much I was ready to come back.
Another happy note? The time changed! I love this time change. Having the sun out later makes me so very, very happy. I just love it. I wish it would stay this wall all year round.

My blogs have really sucked lately. I’m either worrying, stressing, or blabbering about nothing. Which also is how the writing is going on the second book of the fantasy series. I thought getting confirmation on publishing would make it so easy to sit down and write (and it for sure is a great feeling), but I am terrified. Kinda going through writer’s block. Even in my blog. It’s also been two years since I’ve really written anything besides queries and such, so I’m way out of practice. Again, it comes back to everything of any worth is terrifying. Writing. Getting published. Being in a relationship. Giving my heart to someone. Being an uncle. Walking into class everyday. I’m not really sure why fear has to be at the heart of the things that bring the most joy, but it always seems to be there. Smokey says I’m one of the bravest people he knows with all the fear I face, him included. At times, I think he’s right. I see all the fear and I always push forward and/or hold on to hope (which is always the scariest thing of all). However, it often feels like cowardice to me. I think I’m more afraid than almost anyone I’ve ever met. Even as I have hope in the midst of my fear/s, I can’t help but wonder if fear is the opposite of faith… it would be nicer to have less fear, even if it meant I was less ‘brave.’ Even as I type that, however, part of screams out to not have that desire met. What if the absence of fear equates to the absence of joy? Joy, in and of itself, is a risk. And risk breeds fear. Therefore, by choosing joy am I choosing fear---must I choose fear to have joy?