2013 in Review

2013 is drawing to a close, and I have to say it was an eventful year. Not necessarily the best year. But a lot changed. And change is good for everyone, even if it's bad change. Change teaches us etc etc.

This year, I was eighteen (aside from those first 25 days of January). A legal adult! Not yay...because I got jury duty summons...I never wanted to grow up as a kid, but--to my dismay--it's happening. Being eighteen means being stuck in that strange purgatory of too old to do some things because you're bored with them, but not old enough to do others. Choices for activity were very limited this year, as I imagine they will be for the next couple of years.


I finished high school. Graduation. Prom. All those classic rites of passage. Can't get enough of them.

I got closer to my closest friends, though. I even made a couple of new ones! I worked over the summer and picked up a new hobby thing (guitar). I finished another book, wrote a query letter, and tried to send it in to agents. I didn't get a reply, but that's not surprising, It's a competitive market, and while I loved writing this book, I do realize the whole thing stands on shaky legs. (Maybe I should just rewrite it AGAIN?)

I got sucked into Supernatural and spent far too much time on tumblr.

I started college. Community college. Very boring. Around September, the year became less exciting and a little more monotonous. Each passing day I felt the few wisps of hope for the future I was clinging to slip away. That's my fault, I bet. I let it happen.

But then, around finals, I realized I did very well in school. My teachers loved my writing, my poetry, essays, grades. That's a good feeling.

Both my parents seem happier with their lives. Yay!

2014. I hope this year will be better. I plan to be more active and go out more. Let's see how that all pans out. I want to travel a little bit, maybe visit Alaska since I know people moving there. I've always wanted to go there. Hm. What else. I'm not big on thinking ahead...so HAPPY NEW YEAR. I hope the next one's better for everyone!

This is Supposed to be the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

With the holidays approaching, I think it's time to step back, take a deep breath, and be kind to one another. That includes being kind to those who choose to celebrate Christmas their own way.

Recently I have been seeing a lot of posts on Facebook about how people who make Christmas about gifts and family rather than about Jesus are somehow destroying the holiday. I can honestly see where they are coming from. Having been raised as a Polish Roman Catholic, my family was always big on the sobriety of the holiday (at least until the dinner was over). When you see happy Santa elves dancing across your television screen coaxing you into spending money every second of the day, it can be infuriating. It's basically a mockery of what Christmas is traditionally about.

However, those are no grounds to spew hate on a holiday built around love and family. On posts about the controversy of "Christmas" versus "X-mas," I have seen too many hateful comments, usually along the lines of "People who say x-mas should burn in hell" and "Christmas is for true Christians. People who celebrate under false pretenses need to die/burn/stop etc."

Yikes! That is a bit extreme. Especially considering Christmas is not a hateful holiday. (Or it shouldn't be, at least.)

To many people, Christmas is about being with loved ones and taking time to bring happiness to those they are close to. If that isn't how you choose to celebrate, fine. How your neighbor chooses to spend their holiday is no business of yours.

Additionally, to those up in arms about being wished a "Merry Christmas": Why take offence? Unless they mean it spitefully (which I am sure is rare), they are probably just trying to offer your happiness in the best way they know how in this season. The same goes for other holidays.

And some people argue that Christmas has been warped. That today, it is nothing more than a gift exchange. That may be true of some people, but that does not mean they are less of a person than you. Gifts are about thought and consideration. They are meant to make others happy. What about that is negative? Strip away the relentless consumerism, and the holiday remains pure at heart.

Just because someone chooses not to go to midnight mass, they are not worse than you. They are merely choosing to celebrate differently. This holiday is based off the Solstice Yule celebration, older than Jesus, in fact. If you can't embrace the diversity in the world, well...just try to let others be instead of trying to make them feel like shit on a holiday about love and all that lovely stuff.

Regardless, I wish you a happy Christmas, happy holidays, and the most wonderful new year. There's a lot to look forward to. If this post somehow offended you, I offer you this chance to move on and be at peace with the world. Focus on what you want your holiday to be rather than fretting over the customs of friends and strangers.

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug and Apparently the Original Story

Last night, I went to the midnight showing of The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (DOS), and this time, I did not make the mistake of entering the cinema with high expectations. This made it easier to cope with what I found lacking or mutilated in the film. Before we begin, I just want to say that DOS was a lot better than An Unexpected Journey. Here's why. (Contains spoilers).

In the first installment of this "Hobbit Trilogy," the focus was mainly on Thorin and Co. being chased down by the orcs, which was not enjoyable at all. Since Azog isn't in Tolkien's version, the true version, of The Hobbit. There were more aspects of DOS that I found enjoyable, so the second was better than the first etc whatever.

For one thing, Elves. A popular race in Middle-earth (albeit not my favorite. I like the ever-underrated race of men), it was good to see them brought back in a fresh setting. We haven't seen much of the wood elves of Mirkwood, and this opened that up to everyone. The design of the kingdom was a little less festive than what I pictured in my head while reading, but it fit with the movie.

Thranduil, portrayed by Lee Pace, is the king of Mirkwood and Legolas' father. I was glad the movie did not try to make him seem evil, because he isn't. He only wants to protect his people, and Thorin is putting them in danger by going on this quest and asking for Thranduil's help. But there is an elf that does help the dwarves. That would be the captain of the guard, Tauriel.

When I first heard about the addition of this female warrior elf, I was skeptical. But I warmed up to her. Tolkien's work does tend to lack in strong female characters, and Tauriel brings that to the film with grace. I'd go as far as to say she is one of my favorite characters in the movie. The one thing that bothered me was the love triangle.

Honestly, who even likes love triangles? DOS teeters on building one between Legolas, Tauriel, and Kili. It seems to hint that Legolas has feelings for Tauriel, Kili for Tauriel, and Tauriel for them both to some extent. This development almost subtracts from the power of Gimli's infatuation with Galadriel and her acceptance of him as a dwarf despite ages of prejudice and racism between elves and dwarves. Also, the friendship between Legolas and Gimli is supposed to be something new and unseen. Having Tauriel and Kili bond diminishes the importance of Legolas and Gimli's friendship. I mean, they sail to the Grey Havens together. That's intense commitment for a dwarf-elf friendship. However, Kili, as we know, will die in the next film, and I'd be willing to bet Tauriel does, too.

Legolas wasn't in the book, but he seems to fit in the film. I appreciate that the writers made him a racist little prince. It stresses the importance of his development throughout the LOTR trilogy. The nod at their future friendship through Leggy's insulting of Gloin's portrait of his child made me laugh and possibly wins the prize for my favorite quip.

The development they added to Bard's character was well thought-out. They built a story and emotional connection for him, strengthening his character.

Like before, I enjoyed Martin Freeman's performance as Bilbo Baggins, but he especially shines through when interacting with Smaug. The scenes inside the gloriously-designed halls of Erebor kept me all scrunched up in my seat.

Smaug himself was stunning. The visuals, the voice. It was all such an improvement from what we saw in the first trailer, which frankly had me worried. The Smaug there looked more like a mutation of Godzilla, whereas the Smaug they used in the movie had the wolfish characteristics Tolkien describes. The special effects were marvelous. All the gold and coins, and the motions of the dragon, it was truly impressive.

But there were things I found underwhelming and even disappointing in the movie. Need I mention Azog again? And the bone-crushingly annoying joke they made of Radagast? When he was described as quiet and reserved in the Silmarillion, I did not picture a madman with bird shit caked to his head.

Additionally, while the scenes in Dol Gildur were enjoyable because of the foreshadowing and threat of Sauron, they seemed lacking in suspense. Gandalf's absence needed explanation in the movie setting, but it it is approached in a disjointed way.

Most confusing of all, though, was Lake Town. Contrast it with the fading splendor of Minas Tirith or the quiet glory of Edoras, and it felt like a shard of glass among feathers. I'm guessing it was supposed to feel off, yes, but Lake Town should have felt a little more Bree-like, not like something out of Harry Potter. It was the Master's house the got to me. The lamps, the paintings, the piles of books. In Gondor we see torches, not chandeliers. I didn't want it to echo Gondor in any way, but Lake town did not feel as if it belonged in Middle-earth, or at least the Middle-earth Peter Jackson constructed in LOTR. I would expect a little bit more consistency.

While I realize The Hobbit has a lighter feel than The Lord of the Rings, the movies felt like they don't quite fit together. Part of that is the coloring. Parts of the movies, certain scenes, felt like an Ugg-clad teen was pasting Instagram filters over the shots. The colors seemed so unreal at some points. For example, Dol Gildur and Mirkwood were washed in surreal blue-teal-greens. It made parts of the movie cheesy. Speaking of cheesy, dare I mention Beorn? He looked like a 70s werewolf, not like something from Tolkien's Middle-earth. Not to mention the fact that his part felt rushed over.

Overall, the thing that disappointed me most was the blatant milking of a classic novel. There is no excuse for splitting The Hobbit into three films. They feel like extra weight, necessary only to make more money off the franchise. And while I do understand that business works like that, it makes me sad to see the original story force-fed with subplots. They're just cramming them down our throats at this point. It was nice to return to Middle-earth, but I can't help but feel it could have been handled in a simpler, more respectful manner.

I only hope the third movie will be better. In a way, I'm looking forward to the deaths of Fili, Kili, and Thorin. It will have an emotional pull to it. Fili and Kili were always my favorites, so hopefully it will have an impact on me.

Merry and Bright (not read in a sarcastic tone)

I've just been having a lovely day, so I want to share it. Here's why it's been great!

I got to leave math class early.

Today, I found out that my geography teacher is exempting me and a few other students from the final because we already have consistent A's. One less thing to study for! So not, I only have to go to school one more time this semester, and that's for my math final!

My poetry final was easy! By easy, I mean I was prepared. And I got my final poetry project grade back. A+! I'm really happy/proud of myself, ok. She likes my writing and how would that not make me happy? She wants me to take her creative comp class next semester, but I can't. (One of my favorite things is when people like my writing. It gives me the best feeling in the world.) So I also submitted to my school's lit mag. :)

I have  three times the amount of money in my checking account than I thought I did. Such a good feeling. I don't feel guilty about going to see a movie now. I really like to see movies in theaters.

There's snow on the ground! I really love when it's cold.

I delivered some letters. One of the most satisfying feelings in the world is sticking envelopes in the mailbox. You can't argue with me there.

I have awesome friends and I really love them. And my family. It's fantastic. I also have let go of some resentment I had against a few people, which is an enormous relief.

And lastly, I am going to see the Hobbit tonight at midnight! (I am prepared to be sorely disappointed again, though. Regardless, midnight premiers are fun!)

I might bake cookies right now. That's how high my spirits are. (A big improvement from a few weeks ago.)

This all just goes to prove that it's the little things, doesn't it?

Sam Winchester Makes Me Cry

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my feelings for Castiel that my concern for other characters is overshadowed. This is not that day. Today, I want to talk about Sam.

Sam Winchester, the boy who grew up believing he was a freak, feeling unclean. Sometimes, he seems to be the bearer of all these problems. First, the psychic abilities that eventually led up to the demon blood addiction and being Lucifer's true vessel. Then he was thrown in the deepest, worst part of hell, and resurfaced broken and missing a soul. He has died countless times, and yet we expect him to carry on after each.

Sam should be dead. I really don't want him to die, but he looks so exhausted. So many terrible things have happened to him, and now there is this business with Gadriel. Let's step away from the guilt dean feels about allowing that thing to possess his brother. Dean is going through a lot, but I really need to talk about Sam.

Sam killed Kevin. Well, we know it was Gadriel, but Sam will have to live with the fact that his face was the last Kevin saw. Like your typical Winchester, Sam harbors a huge load of guilt over everything. Once again, he must suffer through all these terrible awful things every season (and every season it somehow ties back and dumps more guilt on Dean).

 He is possessed by a terrible angel again, and he has to go through an awful process to have that undone: torture by Crowley. Which will not be a pleasant experience for Sam at all.

And worst of all is that Sam kind of wants to die, but Dean won't let him. Which is selfish of Dean, but we don't want Sam to die, either. I just really want all the characters to find happiness by the end of the series. They never have a moment of peace. It breaks my heart.

I just want and entire episode where Sam, Dean, and Cas act normal in the bunker and wear sweaters and drink hot cocoa and decorate a Christmas tree. (I think all the holiday fan art is getting to me).

I'm not saying all I want to, I just can't articulate right now. Thinking about Sam is stressful and exhausting. So I'm just gonna finish up here. Poor Sam Winchester. *cries while trying to remind self it's just a TV show*

On the bright side, Crowley is in the next episode, and so is some semblance of a trench coat on Cas! That will be lovely! And it seems that Team Free Will possibly has a chance at reuniting for sure? But I also highly doubt that because Sam will be angry with Dean on a whole new level (rightly so). But it will be a beautiful episode. I am sure of it.

The only bad part is that we have to wait until January 14th. But it will be great AS LONG AS NO MORE CHARACTER DIE, PLEASE. (I am seething over Kevin's death. It was unexpected.)

Notes for Next Time: Armed Robbers Scare Ten Year Old Girls

I just got home and was greeted by a lovely scattering of dog droppings and no food to eat in house. Not that I have much of an appetite after cleaning the particularly pungent poops. No thanks.

Now, I look after twin girls when they get home from school. Yesterday, there was an armed robbery at the bank across the street from their house. They were wondering what all the sirens were for. Naturally, I told them. Armed robber. They haven't caught him yet.

Ooop. Poor choice on my part.

Suddenly, the trip to the library seems too perilous of a journey, and even the living room is unsafe without an adult by their side. I am guessing I caused their mother a bit of a headache as well, because now precautions have to be taken to avoid this criminal at large.

I tried to convince them that he has probably already fled the country, hauling his sack of money to Brazil. Their mom is busy assuring them he will be caught soon.

Part of me believes that it's a kind of new excitement for them. They like to chatter about this robber and make up scenarios in which he is running from police by hiding on roofs and in forests. But I think it also stole a little bit of the security that they had of their world.

I am kind of wondering if I should have kept that news to myself.

Let's Talk About Common Decency

Yesterday, my mom was on her way to work when a cyclist cut her off. To avoid hitting him, she swerved, but her car hit an ice patch. She skidded into a ditch, wedging her vehicle between two trees. 

The damage to the vehicle was not as bad as it could be, but the front was pretty banged up. My mom was safe, and that's the important thing. The shocking fact?  No one pulled over and offered assistance. Nobody stopped to help. Not a single person went to check if she was alright.

Thankfully, she was safe, but this incident has me thinking about how people interact today. We are all trapped in our own worlds. We alienate ourselves from each other to the point that it is almost taboo to help one another. Sure, we think about stopping. But the bigger part of our mind tells us to move on. That person will be fine, and we're in a hurry. Someone else will help them.

But if not you, who is that someone else? We are all, after all, thinking that same thing, pushing the job onto someone else who will just hand it on.

Therein lies the problem. Stopping to help someone should not be seen as a job. I wouldn't go as far to say obligation, but yes, I actually would. It is our duty to each other as humans to help each other along, even in the simplest ways.  Besides, who doesn't benefit from the small natural-high one achieves after doing something good? By helping others we bring light to them and ourselves. 

Through even the smallest acts, we can pass on infectious kindness. Of course, it won't last forever, but what good things do? That doesn't mean it isn't worth it. 

So, next time you see someone trip, ask if they are okay. If there is even a small spark of a notion that you should pull over to offer someone assistance or stop to help someone gather the papers they spilled, do it. Remind them that others care. Be the person who stops. Show, sow, and share compassion. 

"Bad Boys"

Let's begin with this: Last night's episode of Supernatural pleased me immensely. That's episode 7 of season 9, "Bad Boys," we're talking about here, by the way.

In this episode, we were able to blissfully ignore all of the problems our boys are facing at the moment. No thinking about Crowley injecting himself with human blood, barely mention of Ezekiel's possession of Sam (and how he is PROBABLY Lucifer), and we didn't have to face the issue of Castiel's vulnerability and sadness as a human. Castiel just breaks my heart these days, so the holiday from that sore subject was nice. (All I want is for Team Free Will to be reunited with the addition of Kevin.)

"Bad Boys" brought back the Supernatural we all fell in love with. Ghost hunting and solving other people's problems. It also touched on the subject of John Winchester's shitty parenting, so that's a plus. Honestly, John was a horrible father. Selfish and obsessive. And I would not be beyond saying abusive, too. It is never blatantly stated, but this episode only reinforced my theory. But we also got to see how much Dean cares for Sam, and how he always has. Not that we don't know that, but it's nice to be reminded that he can be selfless.

Okay, I will admit it. I have been a bit upset with Dean this season. Lying and hiding truths from everyone won't solve any problems. It will just create them. You would think he would have grasped that by now, but nope! And let's not forget the selfishness of Dean actions this season: tricking Sam into having an angel possess him, then  not telling him about it is low enough. Sure, it was to save Sam's life, but Sam wanted to die. To be clear, I didn't want him to die. Obviously, Dean can't live without his brother (unhealthy codependency...), but I only see this creating massive problems later on.

Of course, it wouldn't be the Supernatural we all know and love without these massive problems.

This episode reminded me that Dean is a selfless character. He gave up his chance at happiness and a normal life for Sam. That's huge. And having a rare window into Dean's past is nice.

And it was great to see the Winchesters salting and burning corpses once again. They really returned to their roots this episode. What's not to love about that?

Heaven Can't Wait: A Reaction

There is going to be a pattern in my blogposts from now on. Every time a new episode of Supernatural airs that I feel strongly about, I will be compelled to write out my feelings. Like now. After watching episode 6 of season 9, "Heaven Can't Wait," I have many many feelings. Unsurprisingly, they are mostly about Castiel.

Poor Castiel was booted from the bunker by Dean, who was only trying to protect Sam. Honestly, I believe he should be trying to protect him from Ezekiel, who is PROBABLY  Satan. Cas is a helpless human now. He needs help. What did Dean do? He kicked him out without making sure Cas had a way to take care of himself. He left him all on his own.

Granted, he seems to be coping. Except he is homeless again. Way to go, Dean. You ass. I love Dean, but this season, he has made some poor choices. Didn't he learn that lying to people, especially important people like Sam and Cas, is a bad idea? I see a massive train wreck in the future. First, all these lies about Ezekiel. Sam doesn't even know Dean let an angel (WHO IS PROBABLY LUCIFER. JUST SAYING) posses him. Dean decided to be a douche and not tell Cas that Metatron's spell is irreversible. Wow, Dean. You're only going to hate yourself more when this all catches up to you. Seriously, I thought Dean was getting better. This is going to reverse all that healing we saw him experience.

This season has brought a lot of change, especially for Cas. He was thrown into humanity, stripped of his grace, and is expected to be normal? He isn't normal! I want to see Cas kicking demon and angel ass once more. Please. I also want him to get the trench coat back eventually, and to be happy. I just want all of the characters to be happy. I'm hoping that will happen by the end of season 10, even if it all means they are dead in heaven. Together, please. They are a family.

Cas was such a cutie this episode, though. That is an undeniable fact. I just miss old Cas. I welcome this character development, but I do want him to get better, too. I don't want him to stay helpless and in pain. I mean, obviously he's in pain, right? He feels lost and useless, and Ephraim could sense his anguish.  He never catches a break. I mean, did you see him tthinking he had a date? Then it totally went to shit. Pretty much like anything he tries,  the poor thing.

There were some scenes this episode that didn't seem to fit right with Castiel's character, but I am going to choose to ignore their awkwardness and call it growth.

AND CROWLEY. Addicted to human blood? Our King of Hell seems to have completely fallen from authority. Poor guy. I love Crowley. Sure, he's mister evil demon, but he's fair. Compared to Abaddon, who is stealing souls without contracts. This new taint of humanity in him is intriguing, and I am excited to see where the writers take it.

Overall, this was a good episode. I welcome any chance to watch a new episode of this show, particularly if it include my favorite character.

 

Pixie Perfect: How to Trim Your Own Hair

Back in January, around my eighteenth birthday, I decided to finally give in to my desired hair cut despite my fears that my face was too round and chubby. I went to a nice salon and had about a foot of hair chopped off in exchange for a nice pixie cut. It was probably the best choice I've made this year, because I am very pleased with this style. There's only one problem: the upkeep.

No, I don't mean using products and styling it. I never do that. Mostly because I don't need to, partially because I am far too lazy. I am talking about getting it recut every two months. Even though I go to the cheap places for that (like Great Clips etc.), it is still more expensive than I would like it to be. So, I have taught myself to reshape my own pixie cut.

That may not be worded correctly. I went with my gut feelings and hacked at my hair until it resembled something half decent. Don't listen to what I am saying if you are hesitant and have never tried trimming your hair before. I used to cut my own bangs all the time, so I had at least some idea of what I was doing. You're probably better off going to a legitimate hair dresser if you want something polished and clean-looking. I wanted a choppier style, so this is okay for me. Without further ado...


Here's what I used:

• hair scissors
• fine-toothed comb
• spray bottle
• hand mirror
• hat (in case of awful aftermath)

I started with what bothered me most: the hair around my ears. I cut around the ear, then polished the area around it, snipping it at slight angles to it didn't look so straight-edge.

Then, I followed the line of hair to the back of my neck. This part was tricky. Like most people,  I only have two hands and one set of eyes. I cut off the longer pieces at the back before moving on higher, evening out the curve of the hair style with small cutting motions.

The fringe was the easy part, because I've done it plenty of times. I ended up keeping the top of the cut longer, because attempting that is beyond my courage. I finished it up, and I had a hat ready. Thankfully, I don't need it because it turned out just fine. There are some pictures below of some different angles. (Of course, my facial expressions are uncomfortable. I hate taking pictures of myself, so this took many tries.)

 I am going to work more on giving myself my own hair cuts. Honestly, I am a bit of a control freak, so I like to be able to determine what I want to do with my hair rather than leave it in a stranger's hands. I've already practiced on my brother (a Halloween disaster). I think I will stick to using my own hair for testing from now on. I like the result!

Revival!

After I finish a book, I go through a sad trough of missing my old characters, wanting to write, and perhaps toying with the idea of looking for an agent. (I even send in queries to torture myself.)

Friends, this is to announce that I have risen from my trough! No more pouting, no more unwarranted mopeyness! It is time to spring back up into fictional worlds. Not only that, but I am returning to the fantasy genre to reacquaint myself with my first original characters. I am quite excited (and I have already started the first chapter) because I feel that I know these characters well. The only thing I have left to do is set up a story and watch it unfold (and possibly snare up like a broken sewing machine's thread, but those are concerns for later).

Writing is something that truly makes me happy, so getting enveloped in a new (or old) world of my creation is quite thrilling.

Beginning a new book is the best feeling in the world because there is minimal worry and stress. I'm the kind of writer that has a vague understanding of the story's skeleton as I start out, but it may change later on. Nothing is permanently fixed in my head when I write. I always open a few paths for my imagination to travel.

Enough talk. I just wanted to share my excitement. Now, I am off to write!

Message to a Younger Meghan (aka Me.)

Occasionally, as I am surfing my online prison of tumblr, I stumble across posts detailing how we would like to punch our freshman-year selves, throttle the versions of us that habited our bodies during those perilous junior-high years. I usually laugh (in my head) and agree, but the other day I was thinking. I know who I am and who I have been. I know how things impact me as a person. Having someone walk up to me, let alone my future self, and punch me in the face would scar me. Even if the punch wasn't physical, even if it hadn't been my future self (because honestly that just isn't happening), I know I would have curled up into a ball and retreated to some self-loathing corner of my mind.

At eighteen, in the scheme of things I'm not much older now than I was in junior-high. Still, I know I have grown as a person, gaining some degree of confidence in myself through high school. Back before my gradual changes, I shriveled at the thought of speaking to people, and I hated myself almost as much as I hated the rest of the school. It's a typical thing to be a negative thirteen year old, I suppose, but it was not a healthy way of thinking. I viewed people who wore Uggs and Abercrombie as the enemy, not to be spoken to or acknowledged. I thought it was me against everyone else, and I am sure others thought that way, too. However, that behavior doesn't warrant a sock in the jaw. No, I think that only would have made things worse.

Instead, if I happened across my shapeless, awkward, past-self, I would sit down and offer the cookies I used to bake nearly every weekend back then. I'd probably sigh and hum a little, because I am awful at starting conversations. Then, before thirteen-year-old-Meghan could sidle away, I'd break it down for her.

I would explain that the world isn't an enemy, and that the people I wasted so much time hating are just as insecure. That she needs to open her eyes a bit wider and step onto the path that is paved for awhile. Trying to separate yourself only makes things more difficult. That it is better to focus on the good around, those who love you, than what it broken and crumbling. And of course, the classic "life isn't fair." Because life can't be fair. You just have to accept the bad and move on. It isn't fate's job to balance the good and the bad; it's yours. What is good in the world all depends on what you see around you. It's a bit like an Instagram filter that way, you could say. We're all looking the same matter, but the tone of it is based on your angle. I would tell her to wake up and pay attention to others, especially the ones you judge most harshly, and try to place yourself in those status-building clothes. People, on the inside, are mostly the same.

But I would say all of this gently. Kindly. Because that is what she needed.

Then I would tell her to forget everything I'd just said. She did end up figuring out on her own, didn't she? That phase helped me grow as a person into what I am today, just as my current outlook will help me develop in the future.

The Meghan of the past is still in there somewhere, I guess. The only difference is that now, I know how to treat her.

Life Lessons Learned This Week.

I learned some very important lessons this week. One: I shouldn't let my stupid brain over think things and put doubts where there should be none. Two: I shouldn't let my tranquility depend on the safety of fictional characters in a fictional tv show that is super fictioNAL BUT IT DOESN'T ALWAYS FEEL LIKE IT OK.

Whew. I need to get this Supernatural-induced angst out of my system.

But back to the topic. Lately my brain hasn't been doing me much good when it comes to having sweet dreams. I generally wave up two to three times a night after having dreams. Last night after one such dream, I sent a nonsense text message to my best friend detailing my apology for being a bad friend. But I wasn't (until I sent that message.) I spent all week worrying and fretting and thinking I ruined my friendship. (Again, illogical. We have been through worse than one stray, albeit rambling, apology.) It was resolved today when she texted me, so I feel better. Embarrassed, but better. I kept trying to push everyone away, and thank god she ruled it as one of my silly moods. It's good to have someone who knows you well.

Okay. Supernatural. Wow. Just wow. I wanted Team Free Will to be happy and living in the bunker. That can't happen because a show has to have conflict, but Castiel's face when Dean kicked him out? Because of Ezekiel (AKA PROBABLY LUCIFER I MEAN COME ON IT ALL MAKES SENSE I BET HE SOMEHOW GOT OUT OF THE PIT SERIOUSLY WTF). I am sorry my life revolves around this show right now. It is all I have.

But there were moments I loved. Cas calling himself Clarence as a tribute to Meg. Cas eating toothpaste. The brothers rescuing Cas and Dean being all worried. It was so beautiful.

Procrastination, This Familiar Sensation

Well, I don't have much to say right now. Except that I should be doing research for my synthesis paper. Like I had all week to do. It's Sunday night now, and I have barely touched it. At all. Oops. Here's to procrastination! (Side note, I totally shaped my thesis around using Misha Collins as an example.)

But really, the heart of this post is that I am an awful person who holds disdain against too many things in this beautiful world at the moment. Honestly, I haven't had a full night's sleep in almost a week because I can't get my mind off of how sucky of a friend I have been. So I tried to fix it by texting my friend an apologetic seven-text-long message. I'm pretty sure I only made things worse because now she's either aware of my failings as a friend and never wants to talk to me again, or I have pushed her off the edge and she never wants to talk to me again. (Indulge me, ok. I get to have guilty rants on my own blog, right?) So I am pretty much fucked. It will be fun.

On another note, I painted my room yellow! Not my old room, which I loved and kind of miss. My new room that was my sister's old room. But yellow is the cheeriest color. And it is my favorite. I hope this helps my mood.

Also, Nancy finally caught up on Supernatural! Which was a good excuse to not work on my paper. But now I really have to. This post is me procrastinating more, if you can't tell.

More self-pity. Don't continue reading if you take things personally or know me/my family in real life. I've been thinking a lot about how much of a disappointment I must be to my dad. I mean, I don't expect to be his favorite or anything. But he rarely seems to acknowledge that I do things to. All I hear about is how perfect and naturally talented Olga is at everything. All the things that everyone else does too. Like "oh she's such a talented artist, musician, and writer and none of you guys were but thats okay." (That's the jist of what he said. Well, he did say Adam has a talent for singing.) Yayyy...thanks dad. And then how hard Nancy works at everything. And how nice of a kid Adam always was. Me? Nope.

I know this may sound selfish, but I don't expect anyone to read this...but I know I was always my dad's least favorite. (My mom even agreed.) Somehow, he formed this idea that I am some kind of manipulative, sly, mean, cunning, vicious rebel child that thinks very highly of myself. Hm. Well, I'm not? I don't know. He acts like he knws everything and it irks me. A lot. "You're this kind of person, Meghan. I know this. This is what you are and you'll never be different." And then he claims to be flexible. It makes me want to cry. He rarely sees the good I do, and if he does, it is only my grades he sees and nothing else. Like most people, really.

More self-pity, but I really am the Edmund of our family. I love my family, but sometimes certain people in it make me want to curl up into a ball and tumble off the edge of a cliff into oblivion.

Trench Coat Tragedy

I never thought I could be attached to an inanimate object in a fictional universe...

Scratch that. I can list several items I think of as characters. (The Sword of Truth, the Impala, Lightning. I have cried over them all.) But Castiel's trench coat joins the mix!

Cas and his trench coat. Castiel in general. This subject generates many emotions for me. It's difficult to handle at times. I am going to miss the trench coat every second that it is gone. (Okay that is a tiny lie...I mean, those new clothes. And Cas taking the old ones off? I mean, Misha Collins is a very attractive man.) Nonetheless, the trench coat's absence wounds me.

Why, you may wonder? (Well, I assume you are smart, so you probably already know why. But I am thorough and I want to list out every detail.)

1. It embodies Castiel. Okay it just is part of him. "Angel in a trench coat." "The one with the dirty trench coat who's in love with you." The trench coat is Castiel's symbol. (He will be as cool without it, of course. But I still ache inside.)
2. Dean carried it around in the trunk of the Impala for HOW LONG?! You can't just toss it after that.
3. It symbolizes so much in Castiel's character growth. (The loss of it does, too, of course. This will be interesting.)
4. Even when he was crazy, even when he was in purgatory, the trench coat was there! It's been around longer than most characters last.
5. Just HID FACE WHEN HE HAD TO STUFF IT IN THE WASHING MACHINE. THE HESITATION OH MY GOD.
6. I am just going to stop now before I actually start crying.
7. Side note: I don't think Cas will be super weak this season just because he's human now. It will be interesting. I hope they don't make him seem useless. They never have before, though.

All that said, I have no doubt it will be brought back. I would be surprised if they didn't, actually, what with the writers not being able to effectively kill off a character. THE TRENCH COAT WILL BE RESURRECTED.

And here is a gif of human Castiel breathing in his new non-trench-coat-blue-tie apparel.

It is an invigorating sight. I am pumped for this season.

(Not my images. Should link to sources if you click them. Unless I butchered something, which is very likely.)

Sketching Seconds

My level of boredom in a class directly correlates with the amount of doodles in my notebook. Pages are taken up by scribbly sketches I never look at twice. I draw to take up the time spent waiting for a new fact in these too-boring classes.

Doodling is a problem I had in junior high and my freshman year of high school, but when I took more challenging, engaging classes, I began to stay on-task. My teachers were pleased to say the least. Most teachers I had complained about the pages of my notebook looking messy and unprofessional with the doodles. This year, however, I'm slipping back into the old habit. And it hasn't gone unnoticed.

I'm not the only person who thinks mythology is a bore (mainly because of the teacher). One person who glimpsed my drawings laughed and commented about how bored I must be. We all are.

But in math class, I sit at the end seat, and my teacher always passes my desk. Every so often, he glances down and picks a favorite sketch off the page while I bury my head in my elbow in embarrassment. (I hate having attention brought on me in public.) I don't think he minds, though. Having already learned most of the material, I do well in the class.

The Tilting of the Earth

I will admit to it. I am typically not the type of person who invites big changes and sits them down with a warm cup of tea. But there is some change that I love, and this transition from summer to autumn to winter is one of them.

There's something about the crispness in the air and the crackling leaves that makes me all tingly inside. It's like falling in love.

Or how I imagine how falling in love feels. Because I have never fallen in love. I am eighteen. It's not a regular thing for eighteen year olds despite what books tell you. (Unless we are talking about fictional characters. Because in that case I have fallen in love several times.)

Waking up in the morning with cold feet, then sliding into a pair of those nice, warm Polish slippers is lovely. It's the right weather for tea, and I can finally break out my collection of warm sweaters.

The temperature shift also calls for another change in my life. I keep having recurring dreams about a black and white kitten. I have come to the conclusion that I need a new kitten. (Except I live at home, and my mom won't be having any of that. Hopes = dashed. Until I find away around this.)

Still, there's something about creamy grey skies and dead leaves skittering across sidewalks that lifts my mood. Even when I am constantly sad and moody like I have been lately. (If you haven't given up talking to me, I applaud you. I have been nothing but a downer except when it comes to ficitonal worlds and stories.)

 

 As the northern hemisphere starts to tilt away from the sun, I am feeling this building excitement for winter. I could go on about all the things I love about winter. But we can save that for later. It will be super entertaining, I promise.

[Photos from about 2011, I think. They were the only autumn-themed ones on my computer.]

Self Discovery: Am I a Hipster?

I have recently been informed by an acquaintance from high school that I am a hipster. I don't know what to think of this. I do not think of myself as a hipster; I hate labeling myself. But denial only convinced her more, and eventually my trusted comrade Margaret agreed.

Time to evaluate myself:

• I often go out of my way to dress in a way that doesn't conform to every-day standards. But I am not doing it for the "hipster cause." I dress so I don't feel like I am being absorbed into the grain of life. I like to feel nice in my clothes, and I like to feel different.
• I drink copious amounts of tea. I always thought it was coffee the hipsters like, but no, apparently they drink tea, too. *deep sigh*
• I like old things like type writers and stuff. But I always have. Ask my dad. It's a strange obsession of mine. It includes boxes of any kind. I love cans and jars and tins. Containers, really. So my love of the vintage is not hipster, really.
• I listen to a lot of smaller artists. But it's because I like them. And I don't go out of my way to discover the tiniest underground band like some people. I also do listen to pop.

BUT

• I don't use instagram
• I am only on the fandom side of tumblr
• I do not frequent coffee shops. In fact, I go out of my way to avoid public confrontation.
• I do not collect records or eclectic art.

I don't want to be grouped with a bunch of pretentious assholes. Simply put, I live to satisfy my own expectations of myself. However, some of these facts about me may conform to the whole "hipster" image.

So am I a hipster?

No, that's stupid. I refuse to be called a hipster.

BREAKING: Chalk Washes Off

I was a nervous child. I remember being scarred for years if I was yelled at by a stranger or if a harsh comment from an adult was thrown at me. Maybe that's why I am genuinely bothered by adults who yell at another parent's child.

I'm not saying that a kid should be able to play on a stranger's lawn or mess with something at a store. Hopefully, the parent can take care of that behavior. But if a comment has to be made, why be angry and hateful? It can be shocking to a kid. If scarring is what you're going for, good, but keep in mind that you'll also be the bad guy, the hated enemy on the block. And the news will spread that you're "mean." Kids look out for each other.

I guess this has more to do with the way a person handles a situation than the initial trigger of children playing where they shouldn't be etc. The people who yell at children without first assessing the situation are probably the same people who cut you off in traffic then shoot you a dirty look or make a fuss over a drink ix-up at Starbucks.

People like this are probably having a bad day. Maybe they've had too many bad days and it's starting to catch up with them. Their negativity spreads nonetheless. Building up a shield against it is the trick. When someone narrowly misses your car, why not jut be happy that you weren't hit? Why not let the occasional mistake of a stranger slide without blowing up over it? Small matters like that should play no role in your happiness.

So when I see a woman lose her head over young girls coloring with chalk on the sidewalk outside of her house, I am baffled. Why does it matter? Chalk comes off with the next rain. The innocent girls are not tattooing their names on her son's face.

To quote my favorite book (Slightly out of context), Terry Goodkind's Wizard's First Rule: People are stupid.

Be Happy. [A quick blurb about things]

We all feel pushed down by life sometimes. Maybe we're worrying about the future or spending a bit too much time reflecting on what we could have done in the past. Perhaps it's even dissatisfaction with the way the present is playing out.

I know that I have trouble with returning to smiles and laughs from time to time. I find that what helps me best is doing what I love, and that's writing. Writing what is important to me, that is. Latley, I've been doing just that and I already feel a billion times better.

But another thing that helps me is listing off everything I love. Last week, my list spanned four whole pages in my journal, and it included anything from seeing a loved one after a prolonged period of absence and the smell of winter in the air.

I've noticed a lot of people around me have been overwhelmed by stress. Missing the smiles on a loved ones face is painful. I just hope life picks up for the people I care about soon.

Trying to Keep Busy, but I'm too Busy Doing Nothing

I've been having a bit of a problem with the way I have been spending my time lately. I get home from school and sit on my bed. What do I do? Surf the web! (Look, I just wrote a cute, rhymey song.)

But in all honestly, I have been spending far too much time on a certain infamously time-consuming website where I am bombarded with beautiful pictures and GIFs of my favorite actors/characters. Yes, Tumblr. There are other ways to let time waste away, though. I am just very bothered by the fact that time keeps slipping away from me.

The only solution I can see here is to make myself busy again. Aside from the mythology quiz I may have failed this afternoon, school is not challenging at all. I have hardly learned anything new, and frankly, it has become a wearying pattern of boredom. My mind can't handle it any longer. I'm actually getting quite depressed, which isn't as fun as it sounds. So, some ways to keep busy:

1. Get another job. This would probably be the best choice for me since my current employment situation in a bit more rickety than the woman originally led me to believe. I'm looking for something that won't restrict me as a person because I am incredibly finicky when it comes to my time. (And why not be that way? I only have so many days left before I die.) I will be applying to small shops, but I'd prefer to find something I can control, such as cleaning, more babysitting, or even homework help for kids. I'd go for anything, honestly. Getting started in those will be a challenge, but a challege will be sure to keep me off the internet.
2. Join some sort of club. I have to do this anyway, if I want to keep my scholarship, but I kind of missed the expo because I was too shy to approach the tables. Oops. Time to try again.
3. Start a new hobby/sport/work out. I've always written, played music, and painted, but I think my mind needs a change. Perhaps a shift towards something more active would benefit me. I miss having access to a climbing gym daily, which was my favorite part about high school. Now, there's nothing to look forward to in my day, no mystery. If I started channeling my energy into something like yoga, swimming, climbing, or even running, I would feel a lot better. Still, working up the courage to go do those things is hard. I am the one standing in my way, here.
4. Volunteer work. Last fall, I volunteered at Crabtree Nature Center, and it was very relaxing. I got to spend time out in the forest and learn new things about nature. Everything about the place was serene, and I wouldn't mind going back to that at all.
5. Hang out with friends. This one is always fun, and I do this. Only my circle of friends has been largely diminished, so the time is limited. Branching out is hard for me, especially since I don't form bonds with people very easily. Still, I love spending time with the people I love, so if I do more of that there'd be less of a problem.
6. Start doing weird things again. Last week, my friend and I dressed up as characters from a TV show and went out in public. It was a lot of  fun, and it got me thinking about how I used to do sily things like that all the time. If I stay silly, I will stay happy!

Being bored all the time has me feeling a bit depressed. I'm not learning anything at school, there's no sense of mystery to my day, and I have no way to spend my energy. I'm really going to try to do a few of these things and more, and hopefully I'll pick up my optimism again!

Supernatural Season 9

I really just need to articulate my thoughts about the Supernatural season nine promo before I continue writing my poetry essay.

First of all, W H AT  T H E  H E L L ?

CASTIEL. LIKE, WOW. My poor baby is all human now. "It hurts...." <Translation: I am gasping for breath on the floor> Cas doing laundry? Cas Stripping in the laundromat? CAS STARING HUNGRILY AT FOOD? CAS GETTING HIT BY A FUCKING CAR?!?!

I cannot handle this. And then they have the gall to have CAS TALKING TO SOME BLACK-HAIRED BEAUTIFUL ANGEL WHO HAS FALLEN WOW WHAT THE HELL. I know she is gonna be the one he has sex with, and it breaks my heart. I wanted him with Meg (Shh it was a secret ship...like a submarine or something). Hell, I would even be ok with Destiel becoming canon. Not some random chick who they'll have to kill off in a few episodes because she's a random love interest. PLEASE. This makes my heart ache.

I could carry on forever about Castiel stuffing all his clothes into the washer, wearing cute new clothes, and somehow not being reunited with Sam and Dean. (It had better fucking happen within three episodes of I will throw a fit. MY BABY. HE CAN'T BE OUT ALONE AHHHHHH. Not that I underestimate him. I just love Team Free Will.)

Death and Bobby, though! And hopefully other characters, too.

But SAM IS IN THE HOSPITAL??? I've been worried about Sam for a while, and this poor baby ALWAYS has some horrible shit to deal with (but who doesn't on this show??). Seeing him in the hospital again makes me sad. And DEAN IS ALL BLOODY/??? Abaddon. Ugh. CROWLEY.

That's all I can articulate right now. If it even makes sense.

I didn't ask to be this emotionally invested in the show, okay? Blame Margaret.

The Flowers Died and Now Smell Awful.

A couple of days ago, I walked into my room. Not too exciting all on its own, I know, but there was a bouquet of wildflowers that included my favorites, sunflowers, waiting on my desk. I assumed they were put there by my mother so they would be out of the way for her cosmetics party that evening, and I never bother to thank her or even ask if that was the case.

Now, as I found them slowly molding in the vase (which emitted the most gag-inducing stench imaginable. Surprising for flowers, really), I began to wonder. Could I possibly have a secret admirer? Furthermore, could this admirer be a some sort of alien or mythical creature?

I'm hoping for the latter because, while David Tennant is attractive, aliens aren't really my type. Plus, the whole wildflower motif hints at something a bit more spiritual. Perhaps a faerie, maybe an elf? Either way, I hope he has Will Graham's face. Another part of me even dares to hope it is the angel Castiel. Theoretically, he could pop into my room unbeknownst to anyone. He could be watching me as I write this. I wouldn't be complaining. Still, something tells me he has other interests. (And now that the thing happened to him in 8x23, I doubt he could poof into my room with flowers so easily.)

I have yet to consult my mother. Hopefully she wasn't the one who put them there; that would make things boring. All the same, even if she did put them there, that's nice. Lovely, actually. Being thought of is great.

Though I am afraid the rotting-flowers smell is planning to stick around a bit longer. This is why i can't have nice tings.

Excuse me while I collect my thoughts about Castiel

"I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." The famous words that turned my summer around. Not necessarily in a good way, because once I met that special angel of the lord, I didn't leave my house for a week. In fact, I--already socially inept--started absorbing this awkward celestial being's mannerisms. Oops. But what exactly is so appealing about the Supernatural character introduced in season four?

Better question: what isn't appealing about him?

 First, I'm just going to put it out there. He's cute. Yeah, cute vessel with dreamy blue eyes. But even his personality is just adorable. He's wise, old and powerful, yet he stumbles around social interaction like a chihuahua with a sock on its head.

Still, once you get past his dashing looks, he's an incredible character. His whole life, he has been told to follow orders. Obey without question. And he does (kind of...)--until he meets Dean Winchester. Castiel starts bonding with a human. (No, I won't spin off into the perilous waters of Destiel and shipping. Don't worry.) Dean teaches Cas that he can choose his own path, that he doesn't have to follow the other angels. He sticks firm to his faith in God even when it seems there is no hope.

Not only does Castiel hope, but he is constantly trying to do the right thing. Admittedly, he can go about it the wrong way. Let's come clean and say that absorbing thousands of souls from purgatory and naming yourself God isn't the best approach to things. But what other choice did he have? Raphael was looking to restart the apocalypse, undoing all the work Sam, Dean, Cas and Bobby had kind of died, nearly died, and really (briefly) died for.  All he was trying to do was save the world and his new family. He went about it the wrong way, but his intentions were good. And his end was heartbreaking.

Watching him spiral down into violent madness, then resurface and tumble into soft-crazy was painful. Him atoning for his sins by staying behind in purgatory was hell. Naomi using her dirty mind control tactics to make my favorite angel kill were infuriating. A lot of those feelings were due to the way Sam and especially Dean felt about it. (They do share a more profound bond, after all).

Like many other characters I love, Castiel is devoted to life. He wants to save people, but most of all those he loves. To me, that is a great trait in a character. Castiel is the kind of character that speaks to me because he embodies everything important to me in a socially-unsure package. Wanting to protect his friends, he is fiercely loyal. He values life and begins to see the importance of humanity by spending time with the Winchesters. He turns his back on his angel-family to help his friends and to make the decisions he sees as right. That takes courage few have.

Next season, I am excited to see more Cas-adapting-to-earth moments, especially now that he's human! What are you looking forward to next season, and anything you'd like to add about Castiel?

Just me being ranty and disappointed with my first week at college

College so far is a disappointment.

Maybe that's because I decided to get my gen-eds done at the community college, but I'm not so sure. Harper is allegedly one of the best junior colleges in the US.

I'm having a few problems with it. One, their student portal is ugly and hard to navigate. Okay, not a big deal, but there's more.

The teachers just talk at you. You sit there, jot notes, listen, try not to fall asleep. Since when is that effective learning? And freshman comp is a joke. High school told us all about how to write essays and research papers. In fact, I am pretty sure that in expo comp, they told us we needed to know this for college, that we were basically expected to know all the little steps and details going into college. If that's the case, why are they telling us we need to brainstorm, outline, make drafts, source etc. Frankly, it's a bit boring. Not hard, but a lot like high school, only worse.

Worse in a lot of ways. I don't know anyone in my classes. No familiar faces except the guy who I briefly worked with at Jewel and maybe this one guy in my mythology class who looks very vaguely familiar. I can't place his face, though. And there doesn't seem to be hope for in-class engagement aside from my poetry class, which is so far the most promising one.

Personally, I learn best by taking notes during class discussion and actively participating. Why focus so much on reforming high school education and not college? We're paying for that out of our own pockets.

Maybe I've been spoiled by the good public high school I went to. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if that was the reason behind my disappointment.

Hopefully things change by next week. The first few days have not given me a good first impression. Next semester I will be in the honors program, taking the honors classes, which seem much better. The class sizes are around 15 people and the content and study focuses on discussion and interaction.

I'll keep an open mind for the next few weeks. Maybe it won't turn out so bad.

First Encounter with a Close Call

On my first day at college, I was rear-ended at the traffic light by a large, black Mustang.

To be clear, I wasn't the one at fault. The light turned red, I slowed to a stop, and suddenly, a bump and a jolt and a crimp of anxiety in my chest. I pictured the worst: crunched hatchback, broken lights, ugly scarring. and finally, lots of money to spend on repairs. My sweet, green 2001 Beetle who had been lovingly nicknamed "Shrub" (now I'm thinking Sweetpea would have been a better name), was injured in my imagination.

I took a few seconds to process what was happening before numbly turning onto Euclid with the equally worried fellow-first-dayer on my tail. I pulled into a parking lot and hopped out of the car to survey the damage.

But there was none.

I was grinning as the other girl stepped out of her Mustang, her hands fingers fluttering at her heart and lips. Apologies spilled forth, a stuttered explanation of how she didn't hit the brakes hard enough. I laughed and told her it was no problem, and we shared a refreshing sense of relief. Her nervous apologies transformed into grateful ones, and I laughed more. (I laugh a lot. At anything I don't know how to handle. It's bad when it comes to deaths.)

I drove away with a smile on my face because it could have been worse and it wasn't. I was happy because I had decided to choose patience and forgiveness over anger for a simple mistake. Sure, no damage was done, but if there had been I hope that my reaction would have been as measured and friendly.

Moments like these where you have to choose your outlook can affect the rest of your day. If I had acted angry or even upset, I am sure I would have gone home in a terrible mood. Instead, my temper was actually improved. Not that it was bad to begin with, but I wasn't called Moody Meghan as a kid for nothing.

I'm still smiling as I think about the small bump. This really shows that approach means the difference between a bad day and a good one, not only for you, but for those around you as well.

Just a (poorly written) post about missing someone.

I am not used to missing people. Absence, of a kind, is something slightly new to me. Sure, I've missed people before. Family and friends and home. But nothing has been harder than being separated from my best friend.

And when I say best friend, I mean someone who has been there for me like a sister for two thirds of my life. Kim, while not reliable in the sense of deadlines and meeting times, is a dependable constant. She's always there and always will be. I have no doubt about that.

The separation is not what worries me. I am fretting over whether or not we'll be friends when she comes home. Honest friendship doesn't need validation or reassurance, it's like family: you know you're bound for life. There may be point where you will talk less, but that doesn't change much in the relationship.

The hard part about Kim being away on her mission trip is the fact that talking to her isn't a simple, random phone call. I can't Skype with her. I get maybe five to eight minutes on the phone with her on Sundays. A lot of that time is spent letting that ebbing loneliness that haunted you all week take over while you listen to your friend cry on the other end of the line. And you're powerless to do anything about her sadness except tell about how you screwed up your interview.

This is hard to write out at the moment. I start school tomorrow and most of my friends have left town. So this absence is simply a hole right now. I have never missed anyone so much. Every day isn't dark without her, but there are moments and days and chunks of weeks where the loneliness clamps onto me. At times like that I am a boring lump who just wants to lie in bed and think about stars and made up stories. The loneliness isn't even always blatant loneliness; it's boredom. Heavy boredom where's I'm too bored to think of anything to do.

I miss being able to call and suggest getting together. I miss being able to laugh over stupid, silly faces we make and the way one of us stumbles on the sidewalk. It's the small things that hurt, I guess.

And the new things. Moving on is always hard, and making new friends will almost feel like betraying the old ones. Not that it is, of course. But somehow it seems unfair to all parties involved. I miss Kim, she feels left out, and the new friend feels second rate. It's a cycle I've been through a lot of my life, but I don't really mind.

I guess what my point is...I'm starting college and she's doing work for her church. We're both doing separate things, now, and it's hard not to be able to tell each other every little detail about it. Sometimes I even feel like I am in prison. (Okay, if I am honest with myself, that is probably because I spent all day watching Orange is the New Black on Netflix.)

In any case, this is a lot of "new" all at once. Being mostly alone in it is challenging. I'm going to look on the bright side here: I have my sister and another great friend close by. It's great. But there is something irreplaceable about a best friend, and being without your best friend is actually hard.

A Poem: Alone

Alone is when raindrops tap songs on the shingles
tiny reminders that there is a world outside the window.
Flannel shirts under thick sweaters
cold hands wrapped around hot mugs
and soundtracks playing quietly
under the sound of tapping keys.

Alone is the peace in solitude
and the company of  a cat.
The blanket around your shoulders
The grey clouds swaddling the town.

It is thinking of who isn't there
and where you aren't
and where you should be
where you want to be.

The absence of that person's smile
You know.
That person you just thought of
who isn't there,
but you want them to be.

Alone is in a sea of faces
where none of them notice
and none of them care.

But alone is still in that serenity
of your own breath
and the worn softness of an old quilt.
It is silence
the purgatory of the troubled heart
There is life and love in alone
because alone is nothing to fear.

How to Fail a Job Interview

Working at a bookstore has been an idyllic dream of mine since I was nine years old. A quiet, uncrowded store packed with thousands of stories? What sane person wouldn't love that. Yesterday, this dream was a lick from my future. I had the position in my grasp. Or really just an interview at two o'clock, but you know. Details.

I was a bit nervous. I had only had one interview before, and that was at Jewel. Let's just say they aren't the most formal or organized employers. And where I could have cared less about Jewel, I wanted this job.

Caring was my first mistake. Caring makes me nervous.

I put on a nice dress, made myself feel confident and pretty, and drove down to the nearest Barnes and Noble.

The woman I met with picked a table at the cafe and pulled my name out of a fat stack of applications. I laughed nervously and nodded when she said something I didn't quite catch.

She explained what the job would require of me, that I had to be outgoing, determined, and energetic. I lied and assured her I was all of those things. Then came the questions.

"Tell me about a time at one of your other jobs that you had to deal with a difficult question. Tell me about a poor relationship with a coworker and how you handled it. How many items do you put in a bag at Jewel?"

That one got me. Gaping, I froze and scrambled for an answer. "I...it depends. On what is in...on what you're bagging. You know? Yeah." I swallowed, laughed, and waited for her to tell me why the hell that was relevant. Why was it necessary to bring up the horrors I experienced at Jewel.

She grinned and waved her hand. "Oh I'm just kidding. I only ask because I used to a manager at Jewel." She laughed, I tittered nervously, and she finished by saying, "It's eight, by the way."

Great. Thanks for nearly giving me a heart attack.

But the woman was nice enough. She told me I was doing fine in the voice a teacher watching me stumble across a speech. Then she stood. "Okay, I'm going to have someone else interview you now."

Taken by surprise, I nodded and waited for the next woman to sit down.

Most of the questions were the same. My answers, however, were different, even less sure. For example:

"What did you like about working at Jewel?"

I wanted to say nothing. But "the work was simple and straight forward" was the only reply my mind could manage.
And the final question. Here's where nervous me screwed up majorly, the me that just wanted to be done, to drive home and meet with a friend and forget about the job. She asked me that typical question that every applicant is told to expect: "What is your biggest weakness?"

And I told her the truth.

"I'm horrible at talking to people," I blurted, and the mistake was out on the table before I could explain. The finality of her pen's scribbles signed my fantasy's death sentence.

"I shouldn't have said that," I whispered out loud, and I almost stared cracking up.

I left the bookstore knowing I wouldn't get a call back, but I really didn't mind. Somehow, part of me was glad I'd messed up. At least next time, I will have a better grasp on the interview process.

Now I know that when it comes to the real world, it's always best to bend the truth to get yourself ahead.

We need stories, and they need us

There are stories that make us smile, stories that make us cry, and stories that we accept with a grim nod of our heads. And then there are the stories that take our lives. No, I'm not saying they kill us. But I'd be the first person to admit to falling under the enchantment of a well-woven tale.

The effects are similar to that of a love potion. The story begins to settle into your mind, reaching every corner and fold. Slowly, it begins to consume you. And it is a lovely, painful sensation. Lovely because you can draw happiness from the story, even if it is sad. You feel like you are part of something. The story reaveals to you a truth you needed to hear. However, it is painful because you aren't truly a part of it, not in the sense that the characters are. And maybe part of you doesn't want to be. Sometimes you are broken because it isn't real, so maybe it doens't matter. Maybe it just isn't important in the scheme of things.

But it is.

Connections to other are what make life worth living. Love, family, friendship. Stories are just another part of that, another form of connection. We live through stories. We expirience new lives with each book we read, movie we watch, song we hear, and video game we play.

So next time someone tells you to "Stop wasting your life on that show" or to "live in the real world," don't listen. You are living in the real world. You just have a foot in a fictional one, which can help you live more, to see more of the world around you.

A story needs you just as much as you need it.

Walking Free

Everyone has the right to walk the world without feeling threatened. Or they should. Apparently, that goes right over the heads of some people when it comes to women.

No, I am not saying that women are targeted with violence, necessarily, or that it is only women who can feel uncomfortable on the streets. However, the issue I want to tackle here is leering and cat-calling. Honking horns and shouting derogatory requests at women who are minding their own business. The main perpetrators are men, and while I understand most men refrain from this behavior, I will be using the collective “men.”

I am far from the only one who is disturbed by men dragging their eyes across me as I make my way to the library on foot. Walking the streets of any city a woman will find herself objectified through the  loudly yelled “I’d fuck you” and “blow me”.

Even state parks aren’t safe, it seems. Just the other day I was hiking, and a man basically undressed me with his eyes. No, not just a quick look. A long, draw out gaze as I rounded a bend in the trail. These instances make me uncomfortable beyond measure, and, frankly, I am fed up with it.

This constant behavior that is often exhibited by some—but not all—men nearly dehumanizes women. It objectifies them and makes them nothing more than a Barbie doll in a shop window.

Men need to get it into their heads that women do not enjoy this. It is not flattering, it is not welcome. The only fit descriptions for this practice are disrespectful, annoying, uncomfortable, and borderline threatening.

Keep your eyes, please, or I will take them out for you.

Insecurities

Freshman year, I discovered something very important about my mistakes: I made them because I believed I was going to. The one responsible for this revelation was my orchestra director, Mrs. Caballero. During playing tests for cello, I would freeze and fumble over notes, resulting in music that lacked shape and melody. My teacher helped me recognize the problem: I needed to have more confidence.

Still, acknowledging the problem didn't necessarily mean fixing it. each year, I still bombed my playing tests. I made minimal progress, and each session with my teacher led to another conversation about my confidence. I've always been shy, but showing people my abilities (or lack there of) makes me choke up. It's a paralyzing fear of not being enough.

These past few years, I have been working on boosting my confidence. I wore daring outfits, especially if I had something important like a speech to tackle. I chopped off my hair, taking on a pixie cut. I laughed loudly with my friends and ignored people who weren't worth my time. I took a creative writing course that forced me to share my writing. These motions have helped me raise my self-esteem.

However, even today I find it difficult to share simple facts about my life with friends. I can't open up about my concerns. This has even led to arguments with some of my friends, who believe I am too closed off. It is borderline impossible for me to let someone read my writing.

The other day, my mom asked to read a draft of my book that I've been working on for some time. Flattered, I gave her an ebook version. No one in my family had ever shown interest in my writing before. I was craving support from someone, anyone. I generally only have one friend and English teachers who read my writing. But now, with my mom asking me questions about it, I can't tell her anything. I feel trapped in my silly cycle once again, one where I begin to hate the product of my mind too much to even speak of it.

I am going to give this draft another sweep, and hopefully that will re-solidify my confidence.

Snipping

Here we are at the point during the summer when you know that there's time left, but you're also aware that it will pass all too quickly. It's making me nervous. Partially due to the fact that I procrastinated on important college business, and mostly because I have spent the past two weeks dead in front of my computer watching Supernatural. (I blame Margaret.) It feels like someone has snipped away all my time.

So now, I'm cramming everything into my schedule, so there are probably a few sizable mistakes in the mix that could potentially ruin my life.

Im not sure about the direction of this post. Im going to write one about supernatural when I'm done watching.

New Beginnings mean letting Endings End, I suppose

After months (and I mean a solid eight months) of procrastination, I finally went to Harper College to prepare for next year.

I'm a chronic worrier, I guess you could say. But when I am worried about something, my mind pushes it away, which often leads to a terrible case of procrastination. Putting things off really doesn't make me feel any better about them. In fact, it makes me feel much worse. As in sick-to-my-stomach-migraine-and-nightmares worse.

Still, I was surprised by how easy it was to finally just get it done. Going to my future school to get my plans sorted out made me feel so much better.

I spoke to my counselor and made a few decisions about what classes I want to register for (which I have to do soon, or else they'll all be filled up). I got my new school ID with a picture that for once I don't look so bad in. I familiarized myself with the school grounds. Overall, it was a productive visit.

Still, I couldn't help but tear up when I was leaving. Weird, okay, I know. But when I walked out of the building, I felt so much more confident. And sad. Yeah, I felt a little sad. I was always one of those kids that was a devout follower of the Peter-Pan ideology. Never grow up. And this is growing up. It was so beautiful outside. Perfect weather, glimmering lake, lush grass. And I was there alone. Somehow, I have this idea in my head that being an adult means being alone, and God I hope that isn't true. My parents always seemed so alone, and that always terrified me.

The only way to deal with that is to make sure you're not alone, so what did I do? I called up the one and only Kim and just talked. And I felt okay again.

I mean, I'm also very indecisive, which plays a huge roll in why I can't decide if I want to do this class or that one. Or join the honors program. What club should I even join to keep my scholarship? And the indecisiveness leads to more worrying. A terrible pile or worry.

But I really think I can handle it, now. I am growing up, and that's just a fact of life. And that's okay.

An Introduction: Hello!

As someone who has been writing diligently since I was twelve, I am a bit surprised by the fact that I never started a blog before. Well, I do have a tumblr, but that doesn't really count. I'm going to post something at least once a week on here, but don't expect much. The posts will consist mostly of thoughts, views, ideas, and small daily events.

A bit about me: Having just finished high school, I'm a bit nervous about college. I'm eighteen, I love to write, and I am an extreme Tolkien enthusiast. I'm spending my summer days babysitting--I suppose the word is nannying--and my nights reading and writing. I live with my mom and brother, but I have two older sisters, who are twins. I'm pretty heavily introverted, and people-watching is one of my favorite pass-times.

I just "finished" my current project, which is a book I have been working on for over two years now. (You can't really say "finished" because nothing ever really finished.) I have rewritten it twice, and I'm about to dive into the maze that is the publishing world. I'm trying to be optimistic about getting published, but I do understand how difficult it is. Just today I started looking at agents I could possibly contact. Ugh. I'm getting nervous. (I did some practice last year with sending in queries, but I was unsuccessful, as expected.)

Well, here goes! Thanks for reading!