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.