NaNoWriMo Approaches

Hello Readers,

If you’ve been following my blog for a while now, you’ve probably heard about this “NaNoWriMo”. Now, some of you may be wondering what the heck this NaNoWriMo thing is.

If that’s you, here’s a link: https://nanowrimo.org

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Go look it up.

Back? Great.

So NaNoWriMo (for those of you who didn’t click on the link provided) was named because National Novel Writing Month became a thing. NaNoWriMo is a chance to get 50,000 words hammered out in 30 days and completely butcher your social life and lose the ability to do words defeat that word goal.

It’s one of the most terrifying things a writer can endeavor to achieve. Especially once you announce that you’re going for 50k, cause then everyone knows. Then everyone asks how it’s going.

You can not be a slacker.

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I am the porg, you guys.

Now, when I first heard 50,000 words was the goal a couple years ago, my reaction was “that’s a lot of words, but certainly I write a bunch of words already, right?”

HahahahHAHAHAHAHA-

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I had not looked at my word count before. Silly naïve me.

To break it down for you, the daily world goal for NaNoWriMo is 1,667 words.

That’s roughly seven pages.

For thirty days.

Getting a little scared yet?

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Well, if you aren’t scared yet, just remember that Thanksgiving happens in November. Oh yes, that gigantic important holiday where you must eat lots of food and it’s ordinarily lots of fun.

But you’re behind in your word count, my friend.

You can not eat three helpings of Grandma’s famous pumpkin pie (I don’t like pumpkin pie, actually, but I’ve been told the majority of the world does.) you must write.

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My thoughts exactly.

Now that I’ve hopefully terrified you, I would like to remind you of the benefits of NaNoWriMo.

You get that novel written that has been bugging you like a four year old who wants to buy that overpriced toy.

You get the satisfaction of hearing people ooh and aah over the fact that you slaved away to write this novel. Never mind that it is a first draft and all first drafts suck, unless you’re J.R.R Tolkien

You get to edit sooner.

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Ok, skip the editing part.

The fact of the matter is, NaNoWriMo is really hard. But it’s absolutely worth it. Being able to finish your novel, feel extremely accomplished as you write almost every day and fall more in love with your art, seeing that purple bar under your avatar proclaim “WINNER” is one of the most rewarding things I have experienced.

do not laugh at me, I love that purple bar

My final advice to all you NaNoers is this:

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and

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Drink water.

Until next time!

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~Ruby Sky

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Weep With The Mourning

Hello Readers,

I can’t even imagine how heartbroken God is right now; as I wipe my wet eyes. 50+ people dead and 400+ hurt. If you haven’t heard yet, Las Vegas had one of the worst, if not the worst, mass shootings in American history.

I wish I could say more, I wish I had wisdom and words of comfort. God instructs us to do this:

Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. – Romans 12:15

So maybe I don’t need to give comfort or explain this horror.

Maybe I just need to mourn. Maybe we just need to mourn. No explanations, no beating around the bush. Weep for the loss of human life. Jesus did. Jesus does.

There is pain. There is hurt. That does not diminish our hope, but it makes our hearts cling tighter to our savior. It makes us hold tighter to a world where human life is not taken lightly. My heart hurts with this news, and I long for heaven. I long for a safe place for all of mankind.

Maranatha, Jesus.

Please, pray for Vegas. For the families involved, for the friends, for those impacted by the shooter, for the shooter himself.

~Ruby

 

 

 

Remember.

compassion |kəmˈpaSHən|

noun

sympathetic pity and concern for the sufferings or misfortunes of others: the victims should be treated with compassion.

on behalf of the world,

here is an apology

for the words that have been spewed

for when the color difference in our clasped hands was pointed out amidst cackles

for when you were turned away when you should have been welcomed

for when you did not see Jesus in those around you, please, give grace, we are learning

for when you were treated like an object because of your fame

for when you were hurt, disrespected, when others turned a blind eye

for when you were killed

for when your kindness, your body, your gifts were taken advantage of

for when standing by and letting new life be slaughtered in the thousands was normal

we are sorry

please forgive us

we were but sinners, but we are redeemed now

we have turned from these ways and embraced

compassion

but, my friend

whomever you are, if you burn with anger

clench it tightly

tightly

in your fists

do it with me now.

lift your eyes up to heaven, raise your arms

and now,

my friend, my family

let it go.

uncurl your fingers, this anger will

destroy you

and i do not want to lose you.

breathe in now, my friend, my family

breathe out your anger

breathe in

compassion.

~Ruby Sky

 

 

Investing in Space Piracy: A How To Guide {short story}

Hello Readers,

I’ve been taking a Creative Writing course with Northstar Academy at the tail end of the summer and I really enjoy the assignments we have. One of them was to write a short story and we were given very loose rules for it, so this is what I came up with.

Because space + pirates + sci-fi spaceship dragons = epic.

Investing in Space Piracy: A How To Guide

But first, a collage.

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Not that Rhye was superstitious, but it did strike her as ironic that only a couple hours after she loudly proclaimed every ship in port as “useless flying pieces of metal just waiting to be pirated and made into scrap” her own ship, Kestrel, decided to let a few screws loose. She always knew that her ship was a bit wonky, but that added to its charm and speed. Not today, however. She knew she should have said something derogatory about her ship to cancel out the karma or something. She quickly mumbles something about the leaky oil, hoping that will work.

It might not have been her words at all, she reflects, remembering the cup of coffee that was knocked out of her hand earlier by a shift in gravity. She should really get this stuff checked out.

Whatever the case, she decides after a couple minutes of musing, she has a problem on her hands. Placing a comm to any of the captains from the shipyard was out of the question, there was too much pride on both sides for anything to get done. That and she had robbed about eighty percent of them. She turns on her sonar in a last ditch attempt to see if anyone is nearby. If not, she’ll have to bail in the escape pod, and Rhye really wants to avoid that. Kestrel has been her constant companion for years and if she can repair her or retire her in style, that is what she will do.

That’s odd, she wonders, blinking at the sonar. A ship far larger than any she has ever encountered and it’s only reading one life form.

She hums in consideration, winding her finger around her thick black curls, tapping her other on her purple lips. The groaning of her engine and the sparks behind her make the decision for her. Rhye winces as she guns the engine, whispering an apology to Kestrel as they make their way over to the gigantic ship, which she has dubbed “Bogey”.

Rhye raises her eyebrows in respect as she reaches the blip on her radar, deciding that as huge as she thought this ship was, it is really simply monstrous. The shape reminds her of pictures in stories she read as a child, and she smiles as she remembers. That’s right.

“A dragon.” She whispers, feeling the thrill of the word tingling on her tongue as she eyes this blue metal monstrosity. She grins, crossing her fingers for luck before flipping on the comm switch.

As far as Mondays go, James’ day was going very well. His smuggling operation was a little before schedule, giving him some wiggle room to find a way to make some more profit on the side. He even hums as he goes about checking his accounts.

But then the intercom begins buzzing.

He answers and gets static in response. “Can’t read you, over. This is Wyvern. Repeat message.” He really hopes it’s not the cops again.

“I have an urgent matter to speak to you about. Also, what kind of call sign is Wyvern? It’s like a weird Latin word or something.” Her voice is casual, tinged with confidence and a bit of panic. James breathes out in relief; it’s not the cops.

“It’s simple and to the point.” He shrugs in response, glancing at her ship out of the window. Simple and black, emblazoned with a dark blue bird, talons outstretched. “What do you need?”

She leads with “I have a mutually beneficial proposal to my current problem.” he smirks, cutting the rest of her explanation off.

“I’m not exactly the marrying type, love.” James glances around his gigantic metal dragon, frowning as he notices her ship, The Kestrel, sputtering. “I’m assuming this problem has something to do with the fact that your engines are failing?” He drums his fingers against the sleeve of his worn leather jacket.

“Funny.” She mutters, before her voice turns cold as the floors of James’ ship and blunt as an old tomato knife. “How would you like to invest in piracy?” He toys with the idea of telling her that he’s calling the cops, but he has the feeling she already knows his operations. She won’t fall for the cop trick, as he has enough to lose by it. He hums thoughtfully, running his finger along a spotless console, wiping imaginary dust off on his jeans.

“Well, that depends…” He lets the end of his sentence trail off suggestively, looking off at her ship and smirking as she paces.

“This negotiation is going to have to be fast, Wyvern.” She mutters, dragging her feet as she stalks along her white floors, her trench coat flying out as her black hair whips in her face from the speed of her pacing.

“Alright, so let me get this straight.” He pauses a second, running his fingers languidly through his blonde-nearly-white hair, grinning as she huffs with frustration. “You want me to become partners in your piracy business and you plan on using my ship as your vessel until your own ship is repaired?”

“Seventy-thirty partners, yes. And I would only be using your ship for a short time. You would be well compensated.” That edge of panic is back as her ship tilts back and forth and her words begin to slur together. She adjusts her black shirt so that she has an excuse to look away from his ship.

“Fifty-fifty or nothing. I can’t trust that you’ll compensate me so I want half my payment now to be sure that I’ll at least get something.” James says, glancing out the window and hoping she agrees. He’d rather not watch her burn up in the atmosphere.

A long pause follows and he considers comming her again and lessening the blow of the deal. Forty-sixty or something.

“Fine.” She snarls, and he raises an eyebrow as she gets in her pod, shooting off towards his ship.

“Welcome aboard, Kestrel.” He bows and she rolls her eyes, her shoulder hitting him as she walks roughly on board.

Little does he know, he’ll never quit pirating.

Listen To Your Parents So You Don’t Become Like Me

Hello Readers,

Well, I was going to write a post a couple days back, but then I was physically unable to. How so, you ask? Well, my left hand was out of commission.

What’d I do to my hand? How did I do whatever I did?

Well, let me explain.

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Ok, so we just watched the Princess Bride, prepare for lots of gifs from that movie. 

Eh, what the heck? I’ll just tell you.

So I got into trouble the way that most people find themselves in it, by being an idiot. And not listening to my mama. Which I should know to listen to her by now cause she generally has better ideas about stuff than me. At least when it comes to knives.

 

 

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Yea, so whatever happened to my hand did have to do with knives. No, it’s not graphic. Keep reading.

So I found this great recipe for avocado toast with poached eggs and naturally I was very excited and felt the desire to try it as soon as possible. My plan was initially to try it that morning, but I woke up and food sounded like a bad idea and cleaning up sounded even worse. So I waited, but still with excitement.

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I really like avocados, I’m sorry guys.

So, finally lunch rolled around and I began to cut my avocado.

That is where it all went horribly wrong.

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So, you know the little avocado trick with the knife? Well, I didn’t know about it. I had another avocado knife trick.

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This little knife trick? Yea, I had no idea.

I held the knife in my hand and stabbed the seed vertically. Even though Mom had told me before to use a spoon. But no, I had to go and use the knife. Cause the silverware drawer was really far away.

And as you have probably guess, the knife slipped off the seed and sunk itself through the avocado and into my hand.

 

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I’m serious, I was fairly certain the world had ended and I was going to die or something. 

 

My mom had to patch me up, gave me a couple of “I told you so”s, but I didn’t need stitches and I lived to tell the tale.

And I have recovered enough to write and pick up lightweight things with my left hand. So all in all…

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And now I’ll have a cool scar story. I lost a fight with an avocado.

Wait, that’s actually not that cool…

~Ruby

Do you guys have any embarrassing scar stories? Any other really sporadic bloggers out there? 

 

the scars i chose for myself – a poem

Hello Readers,

Today I wanted to share a freeform poem I wrote based off of a person I met at church. I always enjoy hearing people’s stories, and this person had an interesting tattoo to go with their story. It was one of those things that are just begging to be written.

the scars i chose for myself

my scars were inked into my flesh

i chose them, i suppose.

black and white, writhing in my skin

i fought the battle but i lost the war

and in my moment of defeat

a scar was chosen

my arm was covered

so

i

would

not

forget

how i fought and fought and

lost.

i tried to drown my demons

but they learned

how

to

swim.”

now i’m going underwater

a father eases me in

i think i hear the people

they’re singing

for

who?

for me?

my soul yearns to sing with them

but i am not ready yet.

soon.

the holy water gets in my lungs

i choke on it but it burns

i feel my demons in my chest

they’re choking too

but now i’m breathing

then i’m up

the water is gone

and

so

are

they.

i look over

and there He is

holding every last one under

they burn in the water of baptism

i could not drown them

but thank God

that

He

could.

~Ruby

Heroes & The Hard Things

Hello Readers,

My heroes have been many different people over the years. Men and women, fictional and real, famous or unknown, these people have inspired me. They have made me try harder, reach further, dig my feet in when the world tries to pull me off the edge.

I want to surpass my heroes. I want to dig in deeper, fight harder, be smarter. I want to fight like my life is too short to care about what people think of me. I want to sing when I feel a song in my soul, I want to write the words that buzz in my fingers, I want to tell people I love them without reserve or “only when”s.

I want to do all these things, and I try to do them, but the fact remains that I get scared.

This life feels long to me. The songs too awkward, the people too broken, the words too hard.

But the truth is, this life isn’t long. And I can’t do the hard things. But He can, so I don’t need to be strong. I am weak, I know this, but if God is strong, then I can be too.

Somehow, it’s hard to remember this.

It’s hard to sing when you sometimes forget the tune and your voice wavers.

It’s hard to write when the words don’t flow and things don’t make sense, when the plot doesn’t come together and the characters don’t seem genuine.

It’s hard to tell people you love them when you don’t always feel like you do. When they do things that you don’t love and it’s hard to remember to see the person and not the filth they are smearing on themselves.

The things we want to do, need to do, are hard.

But I hope I will do them. Today and tomorrow and the next day. The next week. This year. Next year.

And at the end of my life, I hope I will stand before my Maker, my first and last Hero, and look him in the eyes as my knees shake and tremble because my inspiration, the comforter of my soul, is standing in front of me. I hope that while I stand in front of him, my mouth dry and a grin on my face, that I will force out the words “I did my best with what you gave me.” That I will mean them. That then, the words will tumble and I will tell my Father what I did.

I wrote the words that you put into my soul. I sang the songs that you handed me to sing. I loved the people you put into my life. I followed in your footsteps.

This is what I want to be able to say.

All of my heroes are fighters.

I hope I will be one too.

I want to fight to write the words that He’s given me, to sing the songs that play on repeat in my heart, to love everyone with open arms.

This is my heart, and it is many of yours. So let’s fight for this.

May the grace and strength of God allow us to do so.

~Ruby

Who are your heroes? What do you want to say at the end of your life? 

In Which I Am Very Sunshin(e?)y

Hello Readers,

I keep getting tagged and forgetting to do them. Whoops.

My friend, Rayne at the bus stop, nominated me for the Sunshine Blogger Award! Here are the rules guidelines, for this prestigious award. Thanks so much, Rayne!

 

Rules Guidelines:

  1. Thank the person(s) who nominated you in a blog post and link back to their blog.
  2. Answer the 11 questions sent by the person who nominated you
  3. Nominate 11 new blogs to receive the award and write them 11 new questions.
  4. List the rules and display the Sunshine Blogger Award logo on your post and/or on your blog.
Here I am, displaying my award. Flaunting it, really. Jealous yet?

Alright. Now comes the interrogation Q&A that I am taking part in!

What motivated you to start blogging?

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We just start off with the real tough questions, huh, Rayne?

Hm. I really just wanted to be able to put my thoughts out into the world and read other people’s views on the world and all that is in it. I wanted to be able to get feedback from people other than my family.

Do you have a favorite story to tell people? (Hint: That’s a queue to tell US that story.)

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^ Me trying to find a favorite story. I’m a storyteller. I have many stories. I love them all equally.

Gosh, this is a hard, hard question…

UGH FINE.

I really like telling people about The Target Meltdown. I would tell you this story, but I really need an entire blog post to tell it. So I guess you won’t be hearing it. Sorry guys. If you really want to hear it, let me know, and I’ll write up a blog post.

Who is your favorite author?

 

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Well… I’m not sure how to go about answering this.

 

Gosh. How the heck am I supposed to answer this question? Am I allowed to pass? Can I pass this one?

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Guys, I’m sorry, I really am, but the opportunity for that gif… I needed to do it.

Alright, enough stalling, I know. My favorite author has changed so much over time and as I’ve changed my reading styles and what not. I have always loved C.S Lewis, J.R.R Tolkien, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

I’m moving on before I write an entire blog posts about all the authors I like.

In what ways did this author inspire you in your own writing?

World building. I suck at it.

C.S Lewis and Tolkien do not.

What’s the greatest thing about your best friend?

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Indeed.

Let’s just go with that my best friend is a fantastic human being who can play music better than anyone. Also he listens to me ramble and rant for longer and with more patience than anyone. Argue with me and I’ll fight you, people.

Camp or stay at a hotel?

 

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I rarely quote or post gifs of Spongebob because I never really enjoyed the show. But this time, he’s got it right.

Hotels, man, hotels. All the way. 1005%

Fantasy or contemporary?

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This is all I have to say on the matter.

If you could meet any fictional character, which would it be?

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WHY. WHY. WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?

Oh goodness. Hmm. So many, so many. Alright, I’m just picking a random one. I’m sorry, all other favorite characters!

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This cat. Though I’d probably be terrified the entire time. Really, don’t ask me to meet people I admire.

Yea, so my favorite superhero is Iron-Man. Deal with it, y’all.

Do you have a special “spot” for reading?

Hahaha, oh yes.

Oh. Yes.

Behind the curtain and my bed. Or sprawled on my carpet.

Do you ever binge-read?

Most of the things I read are binge-read, my friend. I am a pro at binge-reading.

Does music distract you while you’re reading or do you prefer it?

 

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I would be Stan in this situation, guys.

 

I prefer music. While reading, while cleaning, while walking to the store to get cereal.

Music is always good.

Now, comes the time for my eleven questions.

  1. Would you prefer to live in a treehouse or a cabin on a mountain?
  2. How long is acceptable to wear the same socks?
  3. Best song to listen to while doing something boring in order to make it epic?
  4. PB&J or turkey and cheese sandwiches? 
  5. What would you most like to play in a band? (Actual musical skill not required)
  6. What is the most perfect breakfast?
  7. What is your opinion on flying cars?
  8. Favorite classic movie?
  9. Do you like surprise birthday parties?
  10. Which of the following would you like to work in: mall bookstore, used bookstore, or a library?
  11. If there was one question you could ask and get the exact truth for an answer, what question would you ask? 
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In case you didn’t like those questions, don’t worry.

 

The Nominees:

I nominate anyone who has watched Back To The Future in the past month, has pink or blue in their blog theme, or has a secret dream to become a race car driver.

~Ruby Sky

 

 

 

I’m Not Enough and That’s A Good Thing

Hello Readers,

Something I’ve been thinking about lately is a personal battle of mine. I’m sure that many of you feel this struggle I’m about to describe, but even if you don’t, it still can be applicable.

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Or, you know, deep introspection. Huns works too, though.

I’m good at borrowing guilt, or “borrowing depravity”. I will feel guilty about things I have never done (and things I would never want to do) simply because I feel the need to wallow. Simply because I think if I’m not reminded of my own depravity, I might get an ego. Because I feel the need to wallow in my own sinfulness instead of His righteousness. If you’re nodding your head right now in understanding, let me tell you something.

That’s the Devil talking. Not God.

I like to remind myself that I’m not enough (more on this concept in a bit). Maybe I think that’s humility. Beating yourself up is humility, right?

Wrong.

 

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That’s not humility, it’s not even close.

So what, if I’m not enough? So what, if I fail expectations and fall on my face now and again? Reminding myself of that does not make me humble. It might not even be fully true.

Humility is defined as follows:

a modest or low view of one’s own importance; humbleness.

A modest view of my own importance is not focusing on what a horrible person I could potentially be. In fact, that’s the opposite of humility; what I’m doing in focusing on my errors and shortcomings and potential for wickedness is focusing again, upon myself. That’s not a modest view of how important I am, now is it? The world doesn’t revolve around us, it doesn’t revolve around me.

 

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You’d think we’d have figured out this concept by now, right? Wrong.

 

I know this, but it always manages to give me a shock when I’m reminded of it.

Going back to the “I’m not enough” statement now. Which is absurd. I’m not enough for God, most definitely. But when has he ever required me to be enough? This is the God that loved me when I was drowning in my own sin. This is the God who did not just drag me out of that hell, but the God who died the most excruciating death just so I would never have to feel my own sin coating my throat ever again.

So yea, I’m not enough.

Yea, I’m human. Yea, I mess up. I’m not ever going to be enough, I’m not ever going to succeed at everything, I’m not ever going to be right all the time. And I’ll be honest, that thought scares me, when I really let it sink in.

But here’s the flip side of that.

Jesus is/was/will be enough. Jesus already succeeded at everything; even defeating death, which strikes fear into all that meet it. Jesus will always be right.

So yea, I write to you now as a messy teenager, confused by the struggles in her head and knowing without a doubt that I’m not enough. I worry too much, I don’t know all the answers but I act like I know them and I get too heated about little things. I’m not enough.

And that’s more than ok.

Actually, that’s the greatest thing ever. I’m not enough, so He became enough. I wasn’t enough, so instead of leaving me there, in my not enough state, He hugged me close and informed me that the burden was no longer mine to bear.

So if you find yourself being reminded that you’re not enough, look that straight in the face and tell it yes with a smirk. You aren’t enough. But you aren’t meant to stay there, staring into the mirror and crying.

That has no power over you anymore.

Jesus doesn’t want you to stay there, looking at your hands and seeing how small and frail they are; too fragile to hold the weight they should be carrying.

He wants you to look at his hands, scarred and calloused. He wants you to see his wrists, where your burden found its final rest.

My friends, we are not meant to stay staring our depravity in the face. We were meant to defeat it. We were meant, you were meant to move past it, to refuse it any ground.

So if you find yourself trying to borrow guilt or depravity because you feel the need to remind yourself of your depravity, remember that Jesus is enough.

He doesn’t want you walking around with your head down and shoulders hunched, so why are you doing it, my friend?

Walk with your head high. Keep walking. Don’t look back to see if the shadows still look the same.

Keep on walking in the sun.

You are loved, no matter who you are, where you’re at in life, if you’re a church kid or want nothing to do with God, doesn’t matter where you call your home or who you call your family.

What matters is that you’re not enough, but He is.

~Ruby Sky

 

 

 

 

 

Writing Music!

Hello Readers,

I am posting after only nine days!

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Seriously guys, I am impressed.

Though the only problem now is I have no clue what to write about.

Just great.

So until I find a good subject to write a whole post on, I’m going to give you some music recommendations. I listen to these songs while writing and they help me battle writers’ block on many occasions; but they just aren’t working currently. May they help you with cleaning or whatever task you must do.

  • morocco by moon taxi
  • simplify by brendan james
  • suit and jacket by judah and the lion
  • songs in the night by the gray havens
  • viva la vida by coldplay
  • the wolves by ben howard
  • life in color by onerepublic
  • visceral by john mark mcmillan
  • scars by james bay
  • the lucky ones by brendan james

Let me know what songs you enjoy!

~Ruby Sky