Rebecca's PenThe creative works of R.E.W.

About R.E.W

I am author, artist, history buff, wishing to share these three passions of mine with anyone who cares to read this blog. The main drive between these three deep interests of mine is imagination.

History isn't just people and events in a dusty book. Writing isn't just words in a tome. Art isn't just random images in a photograph, sketch or painting. I'll give you examples of what they really are.

This year, I’ll paint my masterpiece
This year, I’ll be recognized
I can feel like I’ll fall in love for real
This year, this year

(I am not sure about the falling in love part yet . . . hahaha . . . uhh . . .)

This morning my siblings, my dad, and I went out to fetch donuts for our traditional start-of-school treat. I sat down at our kitchen table to eat some of my apple fritter, and rifled through the pile of goodies my mom lays out for us while the other five of us get the donuts. To sum up my feelings today, I experienced a bit of healthy nostalgia for the summer past, and excitement for the year ahead. Tomorrow is the first day of my Junior year in high-school, and I have to say . . . this summer was a pleasant one, and I have a feeling that the upcoming year will be one of fresh beginnings. By nature I am a brooding kind of person. Today I brooded over how I am already so far from being just a little twelve-year-old girl (I think twelve was my favorite age/year). And I am now so close to change. Just as Pat of Silver Bush constantly lamented change–to her family, her home, her own life and relationships . . . so do I. Ever since I was ten and watched my big sister walk up the altar to her beloved groom. I used to even shed tears over the fact that people must leave and make lives of their own, and that time was a merciless thing which would alter whatever it chose.

I still do dislike change, but I am also beginning to see the pure excitement of it, the prospects unfolding, before unseen, now unsheathed by maturity and new perspectives, and a stronger relationship with God.

This summer was filled with little things and big things that made my heart lift and dance a bit, even if for a moment, an hour, or a whole day. My heart did a little spin whenever I . . .

  • Found a new artist or song that just resonated with me deeply (OneRepublic’s new album, Native, Imagine Dragons, Jackie Evancho, Celtic Woman, Florence + the Machine, covers of Mirrors and Can’t Get Over You by Anthem Lights, The Writer by Ellie Goulding, All Things Bright and Beautiful, Red by Taylor Swift, and so many more!)
  • Uplifting worship music playing while I draw
  • Stumbling upon Tracy J. Butler’s webcomic, Lackadaisy (the cats, the Roaring 20’s, the fantastic outfits, the beautiful art. The adorable characters, namely Mordecai, who just happens to look my favorite stuffed animal when I was little–a black cat with white paws and white-tipped tail!!!! Yes. Just yes.)
  • VISITING VIRGINIA! *dances* I was just grinning stupidly at everything, just as expected. And I sat there in the rental car by mom drove from Richmond to Charlottesville, my heart thrumming euphorically. I was a happy child, I tell you. (And as I was walking through Monticello . . . oh my word, my mind was literally bursting with everything I wanted to say. I could have just gone off on this long, effusive ramble about Thomas Jefferson, and his family, and American history, and Meriwether Lewis visiting there, and Meriwether Lewis’s old home standing two freaking miles away, and the pure brilliance of Jefferson’s architecture, and how he is simply one of the most awesome Founding Fathers because of his mania for books, and genius designs of a study and bedroom right next to each other, connected by a “wall bed” . . . and we all know what would have happened. The other people on the tour would have demanded a refund for their paid tour, because a high-school something girl decided to ejaculate profusely)
  • Dining at Michie’s Tavern. Oh my word, I loved this place too. Because it was built in 1784. Because it is in Albemarle County. Because of just how it looks. I wanted to set up residence there. My aunt, grandma, mom and I enjoyed a feast of old-fashioned country foods, and for dessert there was homemade vanilla ice-cream with this amazing fudge brownie. That wasn’t exactly colonial fodder, but ah, well. And the people working there were dressed in colonial attire, which caused me to grin stupidly at them too (ummm . . . o.O). And then I stopped in the little gift shop before we rushed onward to Monticello (we were on a tight schedule that Saturday before the PHC camp started–we had to hit Michie’s Tavern and Monticello in one day, and being the gift-shop lovers/historians that we are, it took us longer than it would have usually. Plus, the tire of our rental car nearly blew out due to high air pressure, so that took forty-five minutes to sort out before we even started to Michie’s Tavern from Richmond.)
  • In the gift shop at Michie’s Tavern I bought this little wood-carved pocket knife key-chain thingy with my name on it (seriously!). I am not sure what it is supposed to be exactly as far as usefulness goes–you can pull a file, mini scissors, and a sharp blade. But it looks like an authentically old-fashioned pocket knife with smooth wood, so whatever. Yeah. I added it to my key-chain which currently consists of a little metal plaque with the National capitol building on it, Washington D.C. inscribed beneath, a little watch from Granbury, TX, and now my little weapon! XD
  • At Monticello I bought a children’s history book with beautiful illustrations of the Lewis and Clark illustration. I was so happy about it that I dedicated a facebook status to it! But still . . . ’tis a splendid little book! And a mug place-holder that looks like a colonial sampler which my Grandma bought me, along with a Monticello-themed photo album.
  • At Patrick Henry College I made dozens of new friends, and met teenagers from all over the U.S. I was quite excited by that.
  • In the Patrick Henry College gift shop I bought . . . (besides three packs of energy-gum for long lectures on Strategic Intelligence) . . . a gorgeous handmade journal with an old illustrated book cover of The Story of the Constitution. It shows a beautiful, white-clad America with a crown of laurels upon her head, sweeping down with a bundle of rods and axes (Roman symbol of power and concord), and beneath her you see the Founding Fathers signing our American constitution. Ahhh, perfectimo.
  • My two friends from Washington state visited my sister and I. “It’s always a good time!”♥♥
  • Found dozens of new favorite visual artists, from whose styles I gleaned new drawing and digital-painting techniques to try out.
  • Found Lora Innes’ webcomic, The Dreamer, which is RIGHT UP MY ALLEY. I fell in love with her characters and whimsical story of time travel back to the American Revolution. Whenever the main character, Beatrice, falls asleep, she “wakes up” in 1776, during the American Revolution. I think yes, people! I envy Beatrice tremendously!
  • Today I found a stack of notebooks for novel-planning, and special quotes for my stories. *cheers*
  • Signed up for an online class at Veritas Press online in short-story fiction. I can’t wait to get started
  • I also enrolled for Art Studio II, and I’ll be studying painting, figure drawing, and sculpture. So excited!!!!!!
  • Something not so great is that I found out I have food allergies. Yes, me. If you don’t know me, I never thought it would happen. Right now it looks like that I am gluten-sensitive. >.>

And here is my optimistic outlook for the upcoming year, courtesy of Anne Shirley:

12a7cdd9995a8744ef7e83e1c2f27668I am not a very optimistic person, unfortunately, but to use Mirriam Neal’s newly coined word, I am more of a “Poptimist”. To paraphrase her definition, a poptimist would be somebody who recognizes the darkness for what it is, just as he would recognize the goodness and light for what it is. No illusive phantasms or idealistic delusions. Not that I’m not idealistic. I feel sometimes as though my idealistic nature is one of my greatest faults. As a writer, I sometimes have expectations of people in my mind, a.k.a.–I put people in boxes, and have something already scripted for them to say poised in my brain, and when they don’t say what I expect, I am either nonplussed or annoyed. A very bad habit. Very bad. By nature, I am a moody playwright. But I hope to change and mature. I don’t want to put people in boxes. I want to love them for who they are, not for who I think they should be. So, here’s to this upcoming school year, or just a regular year in life, if you are not a high-school or college student. God bless you and yours,

R. E. Williams

 

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