5 am escapade.

i think i shall write on here as often as i choose.
there are many reasons i have chosen this.
1.) no one reads this, and so i am quite liberated in what i say
2.) i still feel like i am saying something, and i still feel like someone is listening
3.) my occupation is to pursue the knowledge of God, and therefore, i sit next to my computer 10+ hours a day, and random thoughts fly through my head, why shouldn't i record them?
4.) yes, i hear you, i could just write them in a journal or type them into my own little word document... BUT. i think faster than my hand writes, AND i feel once i press "publish post" these thoughts are no longer with me, but a distant reality in the hands of someone else.

that is enough disclaimer.
i shouldn't have to explain why i may post multiple times a day.
no one really cares.
and
i'm a writer
this is what writers do

and by the way, i use to never call myself a writer
writers were people like emily dickenson and donald miller
and i was tiffany untch. no where close to either or.
And also, i had never dreamed to be a writer at all. i don't think you can dream to be what you are.
that would be like saying, "oh, hello, i dream to be a reader."
how silly.
I AM A READER.
readers are named readers simply because they read.
writers are named writers simply because they write.
i read, i write. i also eat, and i don't find that fascinating whatsoever.
because you eat. you read. and i'm quite sure you write too.

and also. i always became overly perturbed when people would say,
"i am not an artist!"
here tiffany, draw this for me, or do that,
i am not an artist.
i am not an artist.

oh DEAR.
are you a human?
do you have a hand?
can you grab a pencil?

wala! you are an artist.
anything is art. art is you coming outside of yourself and onto paper.
or all its other means.
art is your life recorded.
writing is even art.

we are all artists.
and writers.
and readers.
and eaters of food.

this is the human race.
made in God's image.

anyways, that was not the point of my opening my laptop to type.
the point was this story i am about to tell.

i awoke this morning around 5 am from a rather startling dream.
this is usually a daily occurence, and i always have to fight the urge to be lazy -
and fall back asleep, failing to record the dream (which the Lord is not too pleased about)
or blind myself with my laptop and type it up.

i made a good decision this morning.

and afterwards, i thought it would be a lovely idea to get ready
and drive to barnes and noble.
there i would buy a coffee of some sort and sit and read
"knowledge of the holy" by tozer
and illuminate my spirit.

my heart has been in an odd place the past couple of days...
which is common, at times, and never too suprising.
i thought going and doing would be a lovely idea. lovely indeed.

so i get ready to go, and i realize my keys are missing!

this was a terrible occurence, being i never lose my keys anymore
and i don't even know what a loser of keys begins to do or where one would begin to look?
they are always in either two spots:
or three:
my dresser
my purse
my coat pocket.

and all 3 of these places were void of keys - leaving me quite confused.
i then scurried around the living room, kitchen, dining room and looked in
usual places i had visited with no luck.

now. i must tell you in the midst of all this i had 1 billion and 3 items of clothing upon my floor
and 14 books within my purse.
attached to my personality type is my perfectionist/controller side that will at times have a spotless room,
and at others my right brain/holistic thinking side that at times does not care.
when i slide into the latter i always awake telling myself,
"tiffany, if this doesn't change, you will make a horrible wife."
i know that is a wretched thing to think over yourself, but i think it none the less.
i then make vows to hang up every shirt and skirt and dress before i drift away into slumber -
leaving me a breaker of vows every night.

none the less... with the missing keys and the chaotic room -
a miracle was about to take place.
i began to, in my rush rush way - adopted from my mother -
clean my room one by one with great fervency and expediency.
all i wanted was a coffee and barnes and noble and my keys.

after this event i realized that this was probably some hilarious scheme of the Lords
to get me to clean my room.
He is a good Father... and he knows me too well.

having my room clean, and my keys still m.i.a.,
i decided i ought to do some laundry, being that could be another event
needing to precede the appearing of my keys.
after this was through, hoping the keys were in some pocket or another,
i was still without them and without a hint as to where they could be.

my next thought was to re-organize my entire purse...
then
all my papers and files,
my books,
my closet
and i gathered up reject items for goodwill.

when i then ran out of domestic things to do
i flung myself upon my nicely made bed and began to get frustrated.
my keys had died and disintegrated, no longer in existence and i refused to
live my entire life in my room.

i then began frantically ran around the house looking in the most obscure places...
places i hadn't even visited the prior evening.
i flung open the shower curtain, peering into the bathtub,
i looked in random places in the garage,
i opened the fridge and peered into the vegetable drawer,
i pulled apart every couch,
i checked the silverware drawer,
the inside of my shoes,


and
there
was
nothing.

with failure and defeat singing in my ear, i began to wonder how i was
going to get to service tonight and what i would do all day inside my room...
i then pulled out my computer from it's computer case within my
massively large purse
and

LO AND BEHOLD

beneath it was my keys!!!!!!



this is what it takes for me to do menial tasks.
God have mercy on my future home.