In 2011, I began my postgraduate journey at the University of Granada with an MA in English Literature and Linguistics. I chose my emphasis to be linguistics and my MA thesis deals with shame and how it directly affects those of us learning to speak a second language as we do so in our adult stage of life.

This blog isn't about my MA, but, to deal with a minor topic within it, one of the main critiques of it, and my writing later in my unfinished and unpublished, PhD, that I lack my own voice.

Since I can remember, I have read and written. I can't hardly remember learning how to read, and I started writing shortly thereafter. Journals and poetry as a kid and later young adult, and now I do more personal writing on social media and occasionally here.

I've had all sorts of horrific critiques in my more formal writing. I don't have a voice, I use too much passive voice, I need to write more, I need to be more concise, blah blah blah blah.

And since I finished, or rather, someone decided that my Ph.D. was not to continue, other than the business writing and letters and correspondence, I have written very little for myself in the last few years. I've got an unfinished romance novel buried in my laptop at the moment, and I don't know if it will ever see the light of day but it is what it is.

At one heightened emotional moment, I was asked why I didn't write more, and my retort was because the world wasn't ready to see what I wanted to write. And until recently, I felt that way for a long time. 

But, it's done. That part of life is finished, and now I feel a greater freedom to discuss what I have experienced and write out my therapy. 

And perhaps the "nevermind now, entertain us" world inundated with social media and tiktok trends will be too busy to notice.

If you dig into the depths of this blog, you will see Jamie version 2.0 and now you see Jamie version 4.0, We've skipped over some parts and now I'm bold enough to talk about what the stories were that brought me to this version.

Ready yet? Here we go....

As Andrew and I live in the world of the post, postmodernism, we live and move and breathe deliberately in all of our circles of friends, for those who believe or don't it God, for those who belong or do not belong to organized religion, we long to Love.

This is how I phrased it at the end of the last blog, as my Uncle called it, a life unholy but holy.

When you sit down with my and my better half, and share a meal, our favorite thing to do, you will learn sooner and later, that we possess a great gift of faith, not because of what we have done, or even worse, what others have done to us, but because God has loved us and given it to us.

But due to most circumstances beyond our control, the institutions that we belonged to, have, for the most part, chewed us up and spit us out.  Here is this forum, I will not name names of people or institutions, nor will I call myself any names or labels as others have. I am not a deconstructionist. There are more than enough of those to be found on social media and beyond. I disappoint you, dear reader, I am not here today to decry those people and places.

But in these situations, we have been removed by God from those tables, of which we have been granted to no longer eat and drink of their poison but rather have been given new tables to sit at with people from all over the world, and our cups run over.

For this I am grateful.

I am also deeply disappointed and still walk in grief, some days less and some days more, of those men and women who have chosen to ignore the teachings of Jesus to love all and walk in His example of grace, peace, truth, forgiveness and so much love that miracles and resurrection surround him.

So we walk the unholy holy life of tension between those who wish to follow all the rules and those who wish to completely abolish all absolutes. We believe the unbelievable and follow Him.

And this blog, is that story. Here you will find my voice. So be it.