(shrug)

My issue with God is this: that while i have clear evidence that He's speaking to me, orchestrating events, nudging me to action, taking a truncheon to me train o' thought as it were, while i am without doubt upon this, it is fact, it is bedrock far from a fault line, it is something really solidish, and my faith tells me that these speaks, orchestral movements, nudges and truncheon lumps are for my good and are born out of a magnificent, mysterious, merciful and unmitigated love for me...

i'm never quite sure what it is He wants me to do.

F'rinstance, that's a word where i come from, does the constant eating away of my traditional writing time and the lack of any energy to stay awake after work mean i am:

A-- supposed to flip the laptop out of my car window on the expressway, burn all the blank paper in the house, break all my pencil points, hammer my sharpener to wee pieces, dip all the pens in wax and give up writing as an idea, hobby, institution or possible career choice?

or...

B--get serious.  Knuckle down, carve out some real, designated, do-not-disturb time to commit to my art and who knows, let's go willy-over-teacups and maybe send something in to a magazine, editor, agent and see what happens?

or...

C--go to work.  i'm almost late already.