Hello!
I swear I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. Seriously.
But what I have started doing is #100HappyDays over on Instagram. (I can be found here, and really, let's not talk about how unimaginative I am about creating screen names, though there is something to be said for being able to found across multiple platforms with relative ease.)
One of my favorite hashtags on Instagram is #smallcourage. And it's something I figured out last summer, after having surgery.
Being told you have to be cracked open like a walnut and patched up like a popped tire is terrifying no matter what age, but it's a special kind of horror when you're only twenty-three and feel like either the road will go ever on or you won't see another step of it. Signing all the papers and giving the doctors free reign to do what they need to is big courage. It's bravery on a whole new level (I'll write you a dissertation on the subject if you disagree with me, trust me, I can).
Small courage is different. It's the idea that, despite how much it hurts or how much you don't think it's going to be okay, you get out of bed each new day. It's how you say today will be different. It's how your sternum feels like it's healing together again and you have a few odd beats more in one day than you usually do, and yet you keep going. Small courage is the courage it takes to just keep on keeping on, day after day, even when it seems like the last thing you absolutely want to do. It's sending out one more query letter after five rejections. It's finding a way to go to NYC for a weekend even after your boss tells you no, you don't have any time off to use to take a Friday.
It's stepping onto an indoor soccer field 2.5 years after your last college intramural game, little over a year out of major traumatic surgery, and trying to find your footing again. It's knowing that it might not go like you want it to go, but damn it, you're going to try anyway.
Big courage decisions come every so often. Small courage comes on a daily basis, and it reminds us all that we are very brave, very courageous people deep inside. And that is something none of us should ever forget.
Have a lovely Tuesday.
Showing posts with label bright ideas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bright ideas. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Friday, August 8, 2014
Who, Me? An Unofficial Official #PitchWars Mentee Bio
I should not be doing this. I should be frantically cleaning my apartment because my landlord is showing it to someone this afternoon while I'm at work since I'm moving this month. I feel like Loki's I DO WHAT I WANT gif his highly appropriate here, and, you know, maybe one of these days I'll teach myself how to put gifs in my blog text. Pictures I can do.
PitchWars is back! Yay! If you're not sure what PitchWars is, go here and see the lovely Brenda Drake (she has the details).
So who I am, besides a clearly Wandering Sagittarius? Weeell....I'm a performance grade asphalt binder technician for a construction company in Central New York. I work with the stuff that make roads and can use my BA in chemistry on a daily basis. Pretty much. So, my life is kind of like this.
Maybe not that extreme. More like this, really.
My coffee has clearly worn off. But this happens when you work 40-60 hours a week.
Righteo. Some cool things about me.
1) I'm Part Cow
Yes, you read that right. I'm part cow. I found out in March 2013 that I was born with an ASD - atrium septal defect - in which the hole between the top two chambers of your heart don't close when you're born. My cardiologist wasn't comfortable with the size of the hole (huge, apparently, and we later learned that huge meant size of a half dollar) and sent me to another cardiologist who was going to put an artificial patch in. Well, when he looked at the size of the hole, not only was it huge, there also wasn't enough on the one side of the heart wall for it to anchor to.
About a year ago (August 29, 2013) I underwent open heart surgery at the age of 23. They put a patch made of cow (they usually use pig, but I have cow) over the hole, wired my sternum back together, and my cousins dubbed me "The Iron Cowheart Lady" when they gave me an Iron Man arc reactor t-shirt while I was recovering in the cardiac step-down unit.
2) I've Always Been a Writer
When I was six I thought writing a book was taking a published book and transcribing it into a notebook. Now that I'm significantly older, I know that's called plagiarism, and I've since then started really working with my overactive imagination and ideas. As a result I've finished five novels - two of which belong in a series - and three of which I'm seriously querying to find an agent/get published. This includes my PitchWars entry, FROST, which is a retold fusion of Jack Frost and The Pied Piper set in a small town in the New York Adirondack Mountains. What's pretty cool is that FROST didn't start off as a novel, it started as a dramatic text I wrote for a class I took in 2010 while studying abroad in Wales.
Though I still haven't managed to finish that ten composition book monstrosity I started my first year of high school, I did decide to start to rewrite it. There's something really fulfilling about reconnecting with the first set of characters you ever worked with.
3) A Dead Poet's Practical Magic
I'm a movie junkie. I have an ever-expanding crate of them, a years-old Netflix subscription, and can basically quote you certain films line by line. My favorites are by far Dead Poets Society and Practical Magic. My current favorite TV love is the BBC's The Musketeers, though I am a lover of all things geek, including various series of Star Trek and shows like Stargate: SG-1, The Big Bang Theory, Stargate: Atlantis. Superhero movies? Love those, too. My BFF came to visit a couple weeks ago and brought me mini action figures of Data and Riker. I squealed loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood at 1 am.
A Few More Random Fun Facts
- I can't have pets in my apartment, so I consider Henry the Houseplant my pet.
- My writing tends to have either alternating POV's or multiple POV's.
- I am not the world's biggest fan of first person POV, though there are some exceptions - like Kenneth Oppel's Matt Cruise series (which is phenomenal).
- I put together 750-piece puzzles in my spare time.
That's pretty much me in a nutshell.I'm also a hot mess of crazy most days, but nobody needs to know that. Thanks very much for stopping by, and good luck to all my fellow mentees, who's fantastic bios can be found right here. Go check them out!
PitchWars is back! Yay! If you're not sure what PitchWars is, go here and see the lovely Brenda Drake (she has the details).
So who I am, besides a clearly Wandering Sagittarius? Weeell....I'm a performance grade asphalt binder technician for a construction company in Central New York. I work with the stuff that make roads and can use my BA in chemistry on a daily basis. Pretty much. So, my life is kind of like this.
Maybe not that extreme. More like this, really.
My coffee has clearly worn off. But this happens when you work 40-60 hours a week.
Righteo. Some cool things about me.
1) I'm Part Cow
Yes, you read that right. I'm part cow. I found out in March 2013 that I was born with an ASD - atrium septal defect - in which the hole between the top two chambers of your heart don't close when you're born. My cardiologist wasn't comfortable with the size of the hole (huge, apparently, and we later learned that huge meant size of a half dollar) and sent me to another cardiologist who was going to put an artificial patch in. Well, when he looked at the size of the hole, not only was it huge, there also wasn't enough on the one side of the heart wall for it to anchor to.
About a year ago (August 29, 2013) I underwent open heart surgery at the age of 23. They put a patch made of cow (they usually use pig, but I have cow) over the hole, wired my sternum back together, and my cousins dubbed me "The Iron Cowheart Lady" when they gave me an Iron Man arc reactor t-shirt while I was recovering in the cardiac step-down unit.
2) I've Always Been a Writer
When I was six I thought writing a book was taking a published book and transcribing it into a notebook. Now that I'm significantly older, I know that's called plagiarism, and I've since then started really working with my overactive imagination and ideas. As a result I've finished five novels - two of which belong in a series - and three of which I'm seriously querying to find an agent/get published. This includes my PitchWars entry, FROST, which is a retold fusion of Jack Frost and The Pied Piper set in a small town in the New York Adirondack Mountains. What's pretty cool is that FROST didn't start off as a novel, it started as a dramatic text I wrote for a class I took in 2010 while studying abroad in Wales.
Though I still haven't managed to finish that ten composition book monstrosity I started my first year of high school, I did decide to start to rewrite it. There's something really fulfilling about reconnecting with the first set of characters you ever worked with.
3) A Dead Poet's Practical Magic
I'm a movie junkie. I have an ever-expanding crate of them, a years-old Netflix subscription, and can basically quote you certain films line by line. My favorites are by far Dead Poets Society and Practical Magic. My current favorite TV love is the BBC's The Musketeers, though I am a lover of all things geek, including various series of Star Trek and shows like Stargate: SG-1, The Big Bang Theory, Stargate: Atlantis. Superhero movies? Love those, too. My BFF came to visit a couple weeks ago and brought me mini action figures of Data and Riker. I squealed loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood at 1 am.
A Few More Random Fun Facts
- I can't have pets in my apartment, so I consider Henry the Houseplant my pet.
- My writing tends to have either alternating POV's or multiple POV's.
- I am not the world's biggest fan of first person POV, though there are some exceptions - like Kenneth Oppel's Matt Cruise series (which is phenomenal).
- I put together 750-piece puzzles in my spare time.
That's pretty much me in a nutshell.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Striking Out (In a Good Way)
[Hi. I'm going to be utterly shameless and pretend that the past however many months of inactivity haven't happened. I hope you'll indulge me. If you won't, well, there's always bribery by baked goods, so maybe that'll work.]
I'd like to start off by saying, in an answer to the last post on my lovely blog, I didn't make it into Pitch Wars. I did, however, make it into Pitch Madness, and had both some success and some failure there. Overall I was pleased.
Except for when I thought I might actually get a contract with an agent and then got the email that dashed that for the moment. But hey, you win some, you lose some, and you spend more time in life doing an abbreviated cha-cha than probably walking in a straight line.
I have no idea if that made any sense, but I've already put in an hour and a half of overtime this week, and it's only Tuesday.
Good news! I got a job in my degree field (chemistry) and moved out of my parents' house. This is the start of my second full week in my little apartment and, coincidentally, the beginning of the second full week of my new job.
I am a performance grade (PG) binder technician. This has to do with asphalt, and what I do is that I look at the binder, or the stuff that holds what crews later put on the road together. I run lab tests on it (I get to use a blowtorch on a regular basis, how cool is that?) and I ensure that product meets certain specifics. So, if we have a batch of something the guys at the tank farm have made up, I get to certify that it meets certain requirements and can actually be used.
It's pretty cool. It's fun, it's definitely different, and I do enough different tests to where my days are probably not going to devolve into the pattern of "same shit, different shift."
Also, said job pays more than minimum wage (not that there's anything wrong with minimum wage, but let's be honest, minimum wage isn't a living wage, not in today's world), and has a full benefits package. I have my own health insurance. I'm twenty-four years old, a recent college graduate, and I have a job that's got benefits and a 401(k).
With all that good stuff comes the other side of it - I pay my own rent, and my own utilities. I caved in today (because Mother Nature has seen fit to dump snow on CNY like it's still January) and turned up my heat (because I don't need pneumonia), and I'll also pay my gas bill, too. However, I don't have cable, with no real intentions of getting it, either, but I did go get a MyFi from AT&T, because the whole living without internet thing? Yeah, not a big fan of that. I lasted a week, and then realized that I would probably burn through all of my data and going over that wouldn't make my mother happy.
So this is really the first time I've been out and about in such a way on my own. Yes, there was that little apartment my ninth semester of college, but it wasn't really mine. I had to give it back. Granted, if I move out of here I have to basically do the same thing, but it feels different. And that's the important part.
Do I feel like an adult? Eh, sometimes. Usually more so in the morning when I put coffee in a to-go mug, fight rush hour traffic, and park my little Buick between the massive pickup trucks everyone else in my building seems to drive.
I'm quite happy where I'm at, and content to take it a day at a time.
I'd like to start off by saying, in an answer to the last post on my lovely blog, I didn't make it into Pitch Wars. I did, however, make it into Pitch Madness, and had both some success and some failure there. Overall I was pleased.
Except for when I thought I might actually get a contract with an agent and then got the email that dashed that for the moment. But hey, you win some, you lose some, and you spend more time in life doing an abbreviated cha-cha than probably walking in a straight line.
I have no idea if that made any sense, but I've already put in an hour and a half of overtime this week, and it's only Tuesday.
Good news! I got a job in my degree field (chemistry) and moved out of my parents' house. This is the start of my second full week in my little apartment and, coincidentally, the beginning of the second full week of my new job.
I am a performance grade (PG) binder technician. This has to do with asphalt, and what I do is that I look at the binder, or the stuff that holds what crews later put on the road together. I run lab tests on it (I get to use a blowtorch on a regular basis, how cool is that?) and I ensure that product meets certain specifics. So, if we have a batch of something the guys at the tank farm have made up, I get to certify that it meets certain requirements and can actually be used.
It's pretty cool. It's fun, it's definitely different, and I do enough different tests to where my days are probably not going to devolve into the pattern of "same shit, different shift."
Also, said job pays more than minimum wage (not that there's anything wrong with minimum wage, but let's be honest, minimum wage isn't a living wage, not in today's world), and has a full benefits package. I have my own health insurance. I'm twenty-four years old, a recent college graduate, and I have a job that's got benefits and a 401(k).
With all that good stuff comes the other side of it - I pay my own rent, and my own utilities. I caved in today (because Mother Nature has seen fit to dump snow on CNY like it's still January) and turned up my heat (because I don't need pneumonia), and I'll also pay my gas bill, too. However, I don't have cable, with no real intentions of getting it, either, but I did go get a MyFi from AT&T, because the whole living without internet thing? Yeah, not a big fan of that. I lasted a week, and then realized that I would probably burn through all of my data and going over that wouldn't make my mother happy.
So this is really the first time I've been out and about in such a way on my own. Yes, there was that little apartment my ninth semester of college, but it wasn't really mine. I had to give it back. Granted, if I move out of here I have to basically do the same thing, but it feels different. And that's the important part.
Do I feel like an adult? Eh, sometimes. Usually more so in the morning when I put coffee in a to-go mug, fight rush hour traffic, and park my little Buick between the massive pickup trucks everyone else in my building seems to drive.
I'm quite happy where I'm at, and content to take it a day at a time.
Friday, December 6, 2013
The Haul and Wait
Monday, December 2, 2013 was the submission day for the fabulous Brenda Drake's PitchWars. (To find out more information on what PitchWars is, feel free to click the link - it'll take you to her blog and she can explain things a hell of a lot better than I can at the moment.)
Bottom line, if you have a finished manuscript that you're ready to query with, you apply for a mentor. They'll read your query and your sample pages - sometimes even ask for more - and then they'll give you feedback on why they did or didn't accept it on December 11. I know that's only five days away, but it's going to feel more like a month away, really.
I'm not very good at waiting.
The last time I entered a contest like this was during my semester from hell (I think) and I entered Sage, and I totally botched my applications, in all honesty. It was awful. Last year I chose not to enter, because I didn't have anything that I really, really thought would be worth it.
This time I offered up Matt & Topher like proverbial lambs. I've had some success with them in pitch contests on twitter, and I've gotten plenty of rejections with them doing e-queries, so I'm really curious to see how they'll do. It will also be an opportunity to find out what I need to work on - because there's always something that can be improved - and that advice will prove valuable even if, ultimately, the boys and I go nowhere but back to the drawing board.
In the mean time, so I don't freak myself out totally while waiting and obsessively checking the Pitch Wars hashtag, I work at the hotel (for a rather funny picture from Wednesday, check out my Instagram feed for the chalk outline from the kitchen) and I work on getting a little further in Frost, my re-working of Jack Frost that I started three years ago. In other words, I keep busy so I won't go nuts. So far it's working. Hopefully the next five days will go much the same.
Happy Friday and have a good weekend.
Bottom line, if you have a finished manuscript that you're ready to query with, you apply for a mentor. They'll read your query and your sample pages - sometimes even ask for more - and then they'll give you feedback on why they did or didn't accept it on December 11. I know that's only five days away, but it's going to feel more like a month away, really.
I'm not very good at waiting.
The last time I entered a contest like this was during my semester from hell (I think) and I entered Sage, and I totally botched my applications, in all honesty. It was awful. Last year I chose not to enter, because I didn't have anything that I really, really thought would be worth it.
This time I offered up Matt & Topher like proverbial lambs. I've had some success with them in pitch contests on twitter, and I've gotten plenty of rejections with them doing e-queries, so I'm really curious to see how they'll do. It will also be an opportunity to find out what I need to work on - because there's always something that can be improved - and that advice will prove valuable even if, ultimately, the boys and I go nowhere but back to the drawing board.
In the mean time, so I don't freak myself out totally while waiting and obsessively checking the Pitch Wars hashtag, I work at the hotel (for a rather funny picture from Wednesday, check out my Instagram feed for the chalk outline from the kitchen) and I work on getting a little further in Frost, my re-working of Jack Frost that I started three years ago. In other words, I keep busy so I won't go nuts. So far it's working. Hopefully the next five days will go much the same.
Happy Friday and have a good weekend.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Things to Know VII
- If I hadn't already been totally happy with where I'm going to go to grad school, the fact that they called me this afternoon would have sealed the deal.
- I can't imagine what it cost them for that 11.5 minute conversation.
- That predictable American girl stereotype about British accents totally applies to this chick.
- I'm not ashamed of the above.
- The library gave me permanent volunteer hours on the first Monday of the month, and I'm also still a sub when necessary.
- I'm more excited than I should be to have library hours tonight.
- November is National Novel Writing Month.
- I dug out The Icicle Man and have been playing in that sandbox since last week.
- It's rather fun to give my recently-turned-human character the emotional mood swings he's experiencing.
- Though I do feel kind of bad.
- I discovered Star Trek: The Next Generation on Netflix.
- Due to the above, I can confirm what we already knew: I'm a Trekkie.
- I still cry during Star Trek: Into Darkness.
- I'm also going to cry while watching the final episode of Sherlock and therefore haven't yet.
- The next season starts in January and I'm not sure I'm ready.
- I have a cold, most likely can't take any old meds, and will be suffering through with copious amounts of orange juice, cough drops, and decaffeinated tea.
- All of my Twitter followers, you have been warned.
- I'm still waiting to hear back from an agent and choosing to take no news as good news so far.
- Don't ask me how many words I've written for NaNo because I don't have a clue.
- I can't imagine what it cost them for that 11.5 minute conversation.
- That predictable American girl stereotype about British accents totally applies to this chick.
- I'm not ashamed of the above.
- The library gave me permanent volunteer hours on the first Monday of the month, and I'm also still a sub when necessary.
- I'm more excited than I should be to have library hours tonight.
- November is National Novel Writing Month.
- I dug out The Icicle Man and have been playing in that sandbox since last week.
- It's rather fun to give my recently-turned-human character the emotional mood swings he's experiencing.
- Though I do feel kind of bad.
- I discovered Star Trek: The Next Generation on Netflix.
- Due to the above, I can confirm what we already knew: I'm a Trekkie.
- I still cry during Star Trek: Into Darkness.
- I'm also going to cry while watching the final episode of Sherlock and therefore haven't yet.
- The next season starts in January and I'm not sure I'm ready.
- I have a cold, most likely can't take any old meds, and will be suffering through with copious amounts of orange juice, cough drops, and decaffeinated tea.
- All of my Twitter followers, you have been warned.
- I'm still waiting to hear back from an agent and choosing to take no news as good news so far.
- Don't ask me how many words I've written for NaNo because I don't have a clue.
Monday, October 28, 2013
From the Vault
My weekend was, barring a flat tire while traveling to the Farmer's Market with my sister, rather uneventful.
This morning I had coffee with a good friend of mine from high school. She went to college for English, and we've both always been very interested in writing stories. We even looked at some of our old stuff and had a good laugh over it.
Naturally, with November being only four days away, we talked about what we were going to do for NaNo - National Novel Writing Month. My original intention had been to finish Terrathela and Two for the Aisle, but we got to talking and I got to thinking about how much I really liked an idea that had started off as a dramatic text while I was abroad. I'd started a new view on the idea of Jokul Frosti while I was in Wales, kind of spliced it with elements from The Pied Piper, and the beginning efforts of the novel are only about 12,000 words right now.
I'm going to go play in this sandbox again for the month of November. The characters are fun to work with, the plot is fairly solid, and Jack isn't a protagonist I'm familiar with working with. He's darker, and in a way, he's a little flat because he doesn't have a clue what to do with human emotion.
Wandering back into the urban fantasy neighborhood, too, is a promising prospect.
This excitement over ideas and story lines is what makes it fun to be a writer. Though, in a way, I'm also looking forward to the frustration that's going to make me want to pull all my hair out.
This morning I had coffee with a good friend of mine from high school. She went to college for English, and we've both always been very interested in writing stories. We even looked at some of our old stuff and had a good laugh over it.
Naturally, with November being only four days away, we talked about what we were going to do for NaNo - National Novel Writing Month. My original intention had been to finish Terrathela and Two for the Aisle, but we got to talking and I got to thinking about how much I really liked an idea that had started off as a dramatic text while I was abroad. I'd started a new view on the idea of Jokul Frosti while I was in Wales, kind of spliced it with elements from The Pied Piper, and the beginning efforts of the novel are only about 12,000 words right now.
I'm going to go play in this sandbox again for the month of November. The characters are fun to work with, the plot is fairly solid, and Jack isn't a protagonist I'm familiar with working with. He's darker, and in a way, he's a little flat because he doesn't have a clue what to do with human emotion.
Wandering back into the urban fantasy neighborhood, too, is a promising prospect.
This excitement over ideas and story lines is what makes it fun to be a writer. Though, in a way, I'm also looking forward to the frustration that's going to make me want to pull all my hair out.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
The Process
So last blog post, way back when (yeah, I'm good like that, eventually I'll know what the hell I'm doing) I hinted about something that I'd share...soon.
Classify this as soon.
There really hasn't been much available on the job front for me. Which is weird, because I have a bachelors degree in chemistry with a minor in theater. I'm still waiting to hear anything useful from Chicago - or anything at all, I'm not picky - and the other jobs that I've applied for through government agencies have been fails, too.
That being said, I applied for grad schools.
Three, so far, and all of them in the UK. I try not to think too hard about what it means for the future of American education when I can get a masters degree for between $16,000 and $25,000 in a year to fifteen months abroad where doing it in my own country would cost at least double that.
Now it's just a waiting game, and most of you know how much I love waiting. Which isn't a whole hell of a lot. So keep your fingers crossed for me, if you remember. And this will probably make me feel like I've gotten into college all over again. Because, well, technically (hopefully!) I will be in college all over again.
And sometimes second chances are the best thing for a person.
Classify this as soon.
There really hasn't been much available on the job front for me. Which is weird, because I have a bachelors degree in chemistry with a minor in theater. I'm still waiting to hear anything useful from Chicago - or anything at all, I'm not picky - and the other jobs that I've applied for through government agencies have been fails, too.
That being said, I applied for grad schools.
Three, so far, and all of them in the UK. I try not to think too hard about what it means for the future of American education when I can get a masters degree for between $16,000 and $25,000 in a year to fifteen months abroad where doing it in my own country would cost at least double that.
Now it's just a waiting game, and most of you know how much I love waiting. Which isn't a whole hell of a lot. So keep your fingers crossed for me, if you remember. And this will probably make me feel like I've gotten into college all over again. Because, well, technically (hopefully!) I will be in college all over again.
And sometimes second chances are the best thing for a person.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Blind Leaping Faith
Trying to get a novel published is like taking one flying leap off the edge of a precipice without knowing where in the hell the bottom of the canyon is and whether someone will catch you or you'll crash and burn. You can see the end in sight - that nice display in B&N - but that's on the other side of the long dark tunnel, and there are many times when the light you see is actually an on-coming train in the form of a rejection.
Despite all of this happy happy stuff, which always feels more depressing for some reason, one just has to solider through and keep hoping for the best. There's contests along the way - enter your first 250 words, your first paragraph, your 35 word pitch (which is hard, by the way, to condense 95k worth of writing into one single sentence), and peruse twitter to see what's coming down the pipes next. Sometimes you get lucky. Sometimes you don't.
The point is that while it's not easy, nobody ever gets anywhere by giving up. So don't.
Don't give up.
Have faith that your writing is something someone, somewhere, is going to want to read, and subsequently love. Because, sometimes, at the end of the day, that's all you've got. Along with good friends to help you, too, and give you the boost you need.
Don't ask me where this post came from today, of all days, because I'm impressed I could finally make what's going through my head into something coherent that wasn't a new fiction chapter. Which reminds me that I need to get on that. Writing a series is kind of fun.
Happy Monday.
Despite all of this happy happy stuff, which always feels more depressing for some reason, one just has to solider through and keep hoping for the best. There's contests along the way - enter your first 250 words, your first paragraph, your 35 word pitch (which is hard, by the way, to condense 95k worth of writing into one single sentence), and peruse twitter to see what's coming down the pipes next. Sometimes you get lucky. Sometimes you don't.
The point is that while it's not easy, nobody ever gets anywhere by giving up. So don't.
Don't give up.
Have faith that your writing is something someone, somewhere, is going to want to read, and subsequently love. Because, sometimes, at the end of the day, that's all you've got. Along with good friends to help you, too, and give you the boost you need.
Don't ask me where this post came from today, of all days, because I'm impressed I could finally make what's going through my head into something coherent that wasn't a new fiction chapter. Which reminds me that I need to get on that. Writing a series is kind of fun.
Happy Monday.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Hey Speed Racer
I have some exciting news. No, I didn't get a job or an internship that I've applied for (yet, though here's hoping) and I haven't managed to land an agent for Sage yet (though, here's hoping again), but I did manage to finish another novel.
Two for the Rent is a complete first draft at 94,876 words. I don't know which I'm prouder of, that I finished another novel or that I kept the sucker under 95K. It's a little bit of both now, and I'm still smiling, even though I finished it Saturday night. So, while I leave that to sort of cool off for a little while - until I can print it all out and get to it with red pen - I'm embarking on something I've toyed with but never really started.
A sequel.
Yes, there was always the intention to do a sequel to TftR, and, well, because I blame my fellow Sommies and the fact that Word Wars (pick a time, write for 10 minutes, and then share) are addicting, I started the sequel - Three for the City - on Sunday. And yes, because it seems to make life slightly easier, I have planned out some events for it, and it sits at nearly 7,000 words so far.
In other writing-related news, I sent out a query and first 10 pages to an open submission for New Adult. We'll see what happens there. Fingers crossed it's something good.
And I don't know whether to be perturbed or extra-proud of the fact that TftR was written in less than three months.
Yeah. I'll let you decide on that one. My sister has informed me, like normal, "It is what it is." And so it is.
What's even scarier is that it's been suggested that I start planning for, well...life. The different paths and different options I could explore, how I want to get there, and the steps in between. Which is scary as hell for someone who finds planning a bit of a struggle sometimes.
Happy Wednesday. Oh, and if you're interested, here's Two for the Rent and Three for the City.
Two for the Rent is a complete first draft at 94,876 words. I don't know which I'm prouder of, that I finished another novel or that I kept the sucker under 95K. It's a little bit of both now, and I'm still smiling, even though I finished it Saturday night. So, while I leave that to sort of cool off for a little while - until I can print it all out and get to it with red pen - I'm embarking on something I've toyed with but never really started.
A sequel.
Yes, there was always the intention to do a sequel to TftR, and, well, because I blame my fellow Sommies and the fact that Word Wars (pick a time, write for 10 minutes, and then share) are addicting, I started the sequel - Three for the City - on Sunday. And yes, because it seems to make life slightly easier, I have planned out some events for it, and it sits at nearly 7,000 words so far.
In other writing-related news, I sent out a query and first 10 pages to an open submission for New Adult. We'll see what happens there. Fingers crossed it's something good.
And I don't know whether to be perturbed or extra-proud of the fact that TftR was written in less than three months.
Yeah. I'll let you decide on that one. My sister has informed me, like normal, "It is what it is." And so it is.
What's even scarier is that it's been suggested that I start planning for, well...life. The different paths and different options I could explore, how I want to get there, and the steps in between. Which is scary as hell for someone who finds planning a bit of a struggle sometimes.
Happy Wednesday. Oh, and if you're interested, here's Two for the Rent and Three for the City.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Back Again
I'm approximately four days late on this one, but didn't we already discuss the idea of better late than never?
Anyway. After a brief hiatus, The Sleepless Writers are back with a new look, new format, and new ideas. They have a collection of different writing styles and voices from across the US, Canada, and the UK. There's a little bit of something for everybody, whether you're a hardcore novelist or someone just looking to make your every day writing better. Come check us out and see what we have to offer.
You can follow on Twitter, tumblr, YouTube, and Facebook, too.
Anyway. After a brief hiatus, The Sleepless Writers are back with a new look, new format, and new ideas. They have a collection of different writing styles and voices from across the US, Canada, and the UK. There's a little bit of something for everybody, whether you're a hardcore novelist or someone just looking to make your every day writing better. Come check us out and see what we have to offer.
You can follow on Twitter, tumblr, YouTube, and Facebook, too.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Up, Up, and Away!
I cycled through a lot of titles since yesterday afternoon. Mostly to do with moving. Along with the occasional up or on tacked onto the end for good measure. It all conveyed the same kind of meaning and the feeling that one stage of life was over.
It kind of is.
Tomorrow is the last day of classes for my undergraduate career. The past year has been a long, long road, and when I account for the three full years before that, it's almost mind-boggling. And while the happy little voice in the back of my head is comparing what's going to happen after next Friday - when I move out of my little apartment - to taking a long walk off a short step in the dark, the larger part of my brain has already strapped on its helmet with a maniacal grin and a cheeky, bring it. Which leads me to my next, and probably most important conclusion.
I'm ready to move on. It's time. I'm ready for something different and new, and bonus points if it's exciting. I'm ready to tie up this chapter of my life and move on to the next part.
Which is why I can sit here, in a Starbucks about half an hour from campus for some downtime and a change of scenery while I work on labs and whatnot, and think back on what my nine semesters has been like. Those moments of sheer terror, in parts, from pre-season as a first year to all the medical mysteries my body decided to throw my way along with trying to survive four classes and two labs that first semester. Giving up a part of me I never thought I'd be able to part with the following summer, and then realizing it was okay to move on and try different things. Not playing soccer opened up a wide range of possibilities, and ultimately shoved me in the direction of going abroad to Wales. Which, a year later, I did. And I absolutely loved it. To the point where I'm contemplating going back for grad school, which, technically, would be pastry school.
Spring semester 2011 seemed to rock from end of the spectrum to the other. Oral surgery is never fun, and neither is losing a teammate that you've classified somewhere between friend and family. Nor was the tumultuous summer that followed. But I'm a firmer of what's meant to be is meant to be, and everything, eventually, works out. And it did. It just involved a basement-level GPA for fall, contingency plans for the spring, and realizing that a ninths semester was necessary.
Of course, having only one cup of coffee a day kind of sucks sometimes, but it works to keep everything in line and functioning properly, so I really can't argue with that.
And now here I am, in the fall of 2012 and looking back. I think I'm subconsciously trying to squeeze all the stuff I haven't managed to do - like get cited and robbed by campo while I wasn't there for fire violations, and parking tickets from the G-town police - in the last few weeks of my time here. And never fear, I've already paid my parking tickets.
Regardless of all of that, come this time next week while I prepare for my biochemistry final and hope to pull a rabbit from an unnamed body orifice - holy mixed metaphors, Batman, chalk it up to too much coffee and not enough sleep - I will be ready to move on. I'm not entirely sure what comes next, but I know that I'm ready for it. Whatever it is.
It kind of is.
Tomorrow is the last day of classes for my undergraduate career. The past year has been a long, long road, and when I account for the three full years before that, it's almost mind-boggling. And while the happy little voice in the back of my head is comparing what's going to happen after next Friday - when I move out of my little apartment - to taking a long walk off a short step in the dark, the larger part of my brain has already strapped on its helmet with a maniacal grin and a cheeky, bring it. Which leads me to my next, and probably most important conclusion.
I'm ready to move on. It's time. I'm ready for something different and new, and bonus points if it's exciting. I'm ready to tie up this chapter of my life and move on to the next part.
Which is why I can sit here, in a Starbucks about half an hour from campus for some downtime and a change of scenery while I work on labs and whatnot, and think back on what my nine semesters has been like. Those moments of sheer terror, in parts, from pre-season as a first year to all the medical mysteries my body decided to throw my way along with trying to survive four classes and two labs that first semester. Giving up a part of me I never thought I'd be able to part with the following summer, and then realizing it was okay to move on and try different things. Not playing soccer opened up a wide range of possibilities, and ultimately shoved me in the direction of going abroad to Wales. Which, a year later, I did. And I absolutely loved it. To the point where I'm contemplating going back for grad school, which, technically, would be pastry school.
Spring semester 2011 seemed to rock from end of the spectrum to the other. Oral surgery is never fun, and neither is losing a teammate that you've classified somewhere between friend and family. Nor was the tumultuous summer that followed. But I'm a firmer of what's meant to be is meant to be, and everything, eventually, works out. And it did. It just involved a basement-level GPA for fall, contingency plans for the spring, and realizing that a ninths semester was necessary.
Of course, having only one cup of coffee a day kind of sucks sometimes, but it works to keep everything in line and functioning properly, so I really can't argue with that.
And now here I am, in the fall of 2012 and looking back. I think I'm subconsciously trying to squeeze all the stuff I haven't managed to do - like get cited and robbed by campo while I wasn't there for fire violations, and parking tickets from the G-town police - in the last few weeks of my time here. And never fear, I've already paid my parking tickets.
Regardless of all of that, come this time next week while I prepare for my biochemistry final and hope to pull a rabbit from an unnamed body orifice - holy mixed metaphors, Batman, chalk it up to too much coffee and not enough sleep - I will be ready to move on. I'm not entirely sure what comes next, but I know that I'm ready for it. Whatever it is.
 |
| My lovely friends woke me up at two in the morning with confetti, silly string, and cupcakes on my 19th birthday. They were, and still are, amazing. |
 |
| The summer after our first year, my best friend Em invited me to come stay with her for a week on Martha's Vineyard. It was the first time I had been swimming in the Atlantic Ocean, and her dad snapped this photo of us. Four plus years later, we still haven't let go of each other. I don't think we ever will. |
 |
| Sophomore year. Sushi night. Moose imitations. |
 | ||
| Fall of 2012, the semester in Wales. Behind me is Cadir Idris and the glacier-made lake. I proceeded to climb to the summit of Cadir Idris. My legs hated me for that when I finally got off the mountain totally about five hours later. |
 |
| The first time I went on an Alternative Spring Break to Virginia. Loved it so much I went back the following year, and am planning to go again in some capacity. Perhaps they'll let me lead...? |
 |
| Spring 2012, first time performing in the Vagina Monologues. A powerful night, and a lot of fun. And yes, you totally get over the fact you say "vagina" in front of a crowd of people about the fifth time you say it. |
 |
| I'm not entirely sure where I'm going, and I'm more than okay with it. Wherever it winds up being, it's bound to be a fantastic journey. |
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Jack of All Trades
College student. Writer. Potential professional baker. Science geek. Theater kid. Aunt. Daughter. Wandering Sagittarius. Dancer.
Dancer?
Back at the beginning of September, one of my FB statuses was that I was doing something so far out of my comfort zone it was practically on another planet, because a zip code didn't seem to cover an out step of this magnitude. My mother was appropriately skeptical when I told her, as was my sister, and I'm pretty sure some of my friends outright laughed when I said, rather brightly, I'm trying out for Koshare.
It was something I'd always wanted to since I saw my first show back in Fall 2008, but...didn't. Didn't in Fall 2009, was living in Wales in Fall 2010, and was absolutely batshit crazy a year ago in Fall 2011. Now it's Fall 2012, and guess who's name is in the program under the dance Miss Demeanors? Mine.
I've got no problems stepping out on stage and facing a packed audience and playing a different character with different words, mannerisms, and - the last time I was on stage - downright scary facial expressions. This is different. This is me, Molly Louise, only with a little bit of hip hop in my body, some heat in my cheeks, and the on-going thought process of don't let me screw this up. I got this.
I guess I hadn't really thought about the magnitude of what I was doing, and how far from the normal me it was until I read part of what my sister had put on FB when a mutual friend of ours had mentioned harassing me - in good fun, more or less - at the performance she's attending this weekend. My sister is always going to have my back, but there...I'll admit, I was rather speechless when I read this.
Just the fact that she is participating in Koshare, something so far outside her comfort zone, makes me incredibly proud of her. So, doing anything to embarrass her or take away from that accomplishment is the LAST thing I would do.
Tonight is opening night. And this sometimes conflicting Jack of All Trades plans to bring the house down. Which, to be honest, reinforces that nice little phrase I attempt to live by.
Carpe diem.
Dancer?
Back at the beginning of September, one of my FB statuses was that I was doing something so far out of my comfort zone it was practically on another planet, because a zip code didn't seem to cover an out step of this magnitude. My mother was appropriately skeptical when I told her, as was my sister, and I'm pretty sure some of my friends outright laughed when I said, rather brightly, I'm trying out for Koshare.
It was something I'd always wanted to since I saw my first show back in Fall 2008, but...didn't. Didn't in Fall 2009, was living in Wales in Fall 2010, and was absolutely batshit crazy a year ago in Fall 2011. Now it's Fall 2012, and guess who's name is in the program under the dance Miss Demeanors? Mine.
I've got no problems stepping out on stage and facing a packed audience and playing a different character with different words, mannerisms, and - the last time I was on stage - downright scary facial expressions. This is different. This is me, Molly Louise, only with a little bit of hip hop in my body, some heat in my cheeks, and the on-going thought process of don't let me screw this up. I got this.
I guess I hadn't really thought about the magnitude of what I was doing, and how far from the normal me it was until I read part of what my sister had put on FB when a mutual friend of ours had mentioned harassing me - in good fun, more or less - at the performance she's attending this weekend. My sister is always going to have my back, but there...I'll admit, I was rather speechless when I read this.
Just the fact that she is participating in Koshare, something so far outside her comfort zone, makes me incredibly proud of her. So, doing anything to embarrass her or take away from that accomplishment is the LAST thing I would do.
Tonight is opening night. And this sometimes conflicting Jack of All Trades plans to bring the house down. Which, to be honest, reinforces that nice little phrase I attempt to live by.
Carpe diem.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
The Sleepless Writers
Many of you know I write. Many of you also know I know quite a few people who share the same passion for writing and hopefully one day being published. We talk on a regular basis, and then, one day, somebody had this idea that we should start doing vlogs about writing stuff.
With the power of the internet at our disposal, we became The Sleepless Writers, made our own YouTube channel, and got busy making vlogs every day about a variety of different topics. After some feedback from our viewers, who thought our videos every day were a little heavy-handed and kind of spam-like in their feeds, we decided that we would take some time, have some interesting Skype discussions, and figure out a new way to do what it is that we love to do and what we offer to the wider audience.
Re-vamped, with newer purpose, and with our relaunch approaching on August 20, we are The Sleepless Writers, a collection of bloggers and vloggers. We'll talk about writing, book reviews, the life of a writer, and general randomosity, and we'll give stuff away, too.
You can follow us on Twitter, Tumblr, YouTube, Facebook...we're pretty much everywhere.
We also blog.
This could quite possibly be the start of something really, truly fabulous.
The Sleepless Writers
With the power of the internet at our disposal, we became The Sleepless Writers, made our own YouTube channel, and got busy making vlogs every day about a variety of different topics. After some feedback from our viewers, who thought our videos every day were a little heavy-handed and kind of spam-like in their feeds, we decided that we would take some time, have some interesting Skype discussions, and figure out a new way to do what it is that we love to do and what we offer to the wider audience.
Re-vamped, with newer purpose, and with our relaunch approaching on August 20, we are The Sleepless Writers, a collection of bloggers and vloggers. We'll talk about writing, book reviews, the life of a writer, and general randomosity, and we'll give stuff away, too.
You can follow us on Twitter, Tumblr, YouTube, Facebook...we're pretty much everywhere.
We also blog.
This could quite possibly be the start of something really, truly fabulous.
The Sleepless Writers
Monday, March 26, 2012
Murphy and Me XXXXIV
[This is the second to last chapter in Murphy and Me: Sophomore Fall. But don't worry, because after the fall semester comes the spring semester. Happy Monday.]
I keep swearing every time a big paper comes up I won't do this. It's not fun. It does nothing for my blood pressure and my brain melts right around two-thirty, three o'clock. These don't get any easier. Might actually get harder, come to think of it.
Which is why all-nighters aren't good for the human body. Which was why I was not totally coherent.
Which was mostly why I was falling asleep in my omelet in Saga the second day of finals. My T-S Britain paper was due at eleven, and Em and I had handed ours in at ten-thirty after starting them at six the previous night. Not a moment of brilliance on my part, and if there was a way to mainline coffee, I needed to do it. Preferably an hour ago.
"Olivia?"
Not a voice I recognized, first of all, and, to be frank, my outfit left a lot to be desired. Murph's flannel shirt, rolled up to the elbows, William Smith soccer sweatpants, the legs pushed up to my knees, and my beaten New Balance sneakers. A hot mess, that was me.
I looked up, blinking hard to get the fuzziness out of my eyes.
Manda.
I was not awake enough for this shit. That much I knew.
"Hi." She looked like she hadn't just ripped an all-nighter - more like she'd come from the gym, with all her carefully applied makeup still intact - and she sat delicately across from me.
My appetite promptly fled. "Morning."
"Yeah." Manda shifted. "So, you're Murphy's new girlfriend?"
If she meant "new" as in "together officially for four months" then yeah, I was the new girlfriend. "Kinda, okay, yeah." Really hope that made some sort of sense.
"Well, there's some things you should know." She shifted again.
What happened next was more...verbal vomiting from a sleep-deprived brain that did not want to deal with this shit. Not now. Not ever.
"Wait a second."
Manda looked at me - actually looked at me for the first time - and froze.
"If you're going to sit there and tell me secrets - dirty secrets about Murph, then I don't want to hear them. Not from you." That damn Boyd temper was rearing its ugly head. "Any secrets," I said, calmly gathering my things, "about Murphy I plan to learn from Murphy when Murphy is ready to tell me." Didn't care she had to look up at me. "I have no desire to hear anything you might have to tell me about Murphy. Good luck with your finals."
And I walked away. That was a moment of brilliance.
Packing was a good way to procrastinate on studying for physics. While listening to music, of course. My orgo exam had been more of a train wreck than originally thought and the act of decompressing from that was more to let my brain solidify again by random action than anything else.
The little black flip phone buzzed against the bed frame.
you upstairs? from Liam, of all people. He must have been visiting his brother. I sent back an affirmative and seconds later - which told me he'd been standing outside the door - he was knocking. A quick trip to open said door, then around the piles on the floor to turn the music down.
Liam must have figured the only safe place to stand was leaning against the door. "So...You walked out on Manda."
I moved a pile of sweatshirts and sank into the moon chair. "Yeah. Guess I did." To be honest, that whole exchange had a funny, almost out-of-body feel to it. More like I watched it happen than actually did it.
"Thank you."
Again, not what I was expecting.
Liam opened and closed his mouth a few times before he found the right words. "When Murphy was with Manda he...He wasn't happy at times. Downright miserable, really. And when you're the older sibling - by a whopping minute and forty-five seconds - you want your younger sibling to be happy." He put his hands in his pockets. "I haven't seen my brother this relaxed in a long time and he's content with you in a way he never was with Manda."
I clutched the pile of sweatshirts tighter, not sure what to say.
"I don't know," he said, "if I were in your position, if I would have walked away. I really don't. And to do that took a lot and, just...Thank you for having such faith in my brother."
Liam was open and raw in a way that was almost shocking in its intensity. It made me wonder what exactly Manda had done to him, and why anyone would ever want to hurt Murph in any capacity, but especially on this level.
"You would've," I said. "You would've walked away."
He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't have a solid answer for that."
Just because he wasn't sure didn't make me the better person. Did it?
"You're good for him," Liam said. "And thank you for that." He smiled softly. "And he is going to be unbearable for the majority of winter break."
I blinked. "He won't be that bad."
Liam outright chuckled at that. "Oh, yeah, he'll be fine for the first two weeks and then he'll be bear to live with." He brought one hand out of his pocket to swipe at his nose. "But you're good for him." He fumbled for the door handle.
"He's good for me, too." Not sure if he heard me, but he smiled one last time and left almost as quietly as he'd arrived. I sat in the chair, still clutching the pile of sweatshirts, and trying to put my newly melted brain back together again.
It really helped to put perspective on things. What perspective on what things was a little vague, but at the end of it all it boiled down to being with someone - loving someone - and being loved in the capacity Murph and I had found in each other. This was probably one of those cases where the head had problems reasoning through what the heart could understand instinctively.
It was more than slightly confusing when a critical examination was attempted. Better to just go with it, no questions asked.
There was another knock on the door. No point in me getting up to sit back down. "Yeah, it's open."
Murph slipped in and had no qualms about navigating the piles to sit on the only space on the bed not covered in physics material. "Hi."
"Hi." Now I was not only procrastinating at studying but also procrastinating at packing. But Murph was always a welcome distraction.
"So, Liam's done tomorrow at eleven and then we're packing the car and heading home."
"I have the seven to ten tomorrow."
"Shit." Murph scratched at the slight stubble he had going. "You'll be around in the morning?"
"Yeah." My room was a mess but he'd probably seen worse. "You wanna stay tonight? Up here?"
He hesitated, glancing at the open physics book. "You have an exam tomorrow."
"Tomorrow night." There was this almost tangible I sleep better when you're next to me that we both acknowledged but didn't verbalize. "I have all day to study for physics."
"Like you've done so far?" He smirked.
"Funny." Smiled anyway. "But really. Stay, please?"
He looked at me, then looked down, then finally back at me. "If you're sure."
"I'm sure." No hesitation on my part. There probably never would be, either.
Murph looked at my clock. It was late. "You want me to go grab some pajamas?"
"Yeah. I'll stuff all this stuff...Somewhere." Have I mentioned my hatred for packing? I asked Murph as much. He grinned. I scrubbed my hands over my face and mumbled, "I need to go to bed."
"I'll be right back."
The door swung shut behind him and left me there staring at the piles of stuff on the floor and wondering how I was going to get all of it home. Then again, did it all need to go home in the first place? Regardless, it went into the hamper and the hamper - now bulging - sat by the closet.
A pair of soccer shorts and a tank with a built-in bra were pajamas, and I was tugging the hair tie from my curls when Murph came back in, dropped both warm hands to my hips and tipped his forehead all the way down onto my bare shoulder.
Neither of us needed to say anything. The how long is winter break and I'm going to miss you was clearly there. But that was going to be then. We wanted to stay in the here and now for as long as possible. Here and now in this corner single with Murph and Ollie and nobody else, not even in memory.
I keep swearing every time a big paper comes up I won't do this. It's not fun. It does nothing for my blood pressure and my brain melts right around two-thirty, three o'clock. These don't get any easier. Might actually get harder, come to think of it.
Which is why all-nighters aren't good for the human body. Which was why I was not totally coherent.
Which was mostly why I was falling asleep in my omelet in Saga the second day of finals. My T-S Britain paper was due at eleven, and Em and I had handed ours in at ten-thirty after starting them at six the previous night. Not a moment of brilliance on my part, and if there was a way to mainline coffee, I needed to do it. Preferably an hour ago.
"Olivia?"
Not a voice I recognized, first of all, and, to be frank, my outfit left a lot to be desired. Murph's flannel shirt, rolled up to the elbows, William Smith soccer sweatpants, the legs pushed up to my knees, and my beaten New Balance sneakers. A hot mess, that was me.
I looked up, blinking hard to get the fuzziness out of my eyes.
Manda.
I was not awake enough for this shit. That much I knew.
"Hi." She looked like she hadn't just ripped an all-nighter - more like she'd come from the gym, with all her carefully applied makeup still intact - and she sat delicately across from me.
My appetite promptly fled. "Morning."
"Yeah." Manda shifted. "So, you're Murphy's new girlfriend?"
If she meant "new" as in "together officially for four months" then yeah, I was the new girlfriend. "Kinda, okay, yeah." Really hope that made some sort of sense.
"Well, there's some things you should know." She shifted again.
What happened next was more...verbal vomiting from a sleep-deprived brain that did not want to deal with this shit. Not now. Not ever.
"Wait a second."
Manda looked at me - actually looked at me for the first time - and froze.
"If you're going to sit there and tell me secrets - dirty secrets about Murph, then I don't want to hear them. Not from you." That damn Boyd temper was rearing its ugly head. "Any secrets," I said, calmly gathering my things, "about Murphy I plan to learn from Murphy when Murphy is ready to tell me." Didn't care she had to look up at me. "I have no desire to hear anything you might have to tell me about Murphy. Good luck with your finals."
And I walked away. That was a moment of brilliance.
Packing was a good way to procrastinate on studying for physics. While listening to music, of course. My orgo exam had been more of a train wreck than originally thought and the act of decompressing from that was more to let my brain solidify again by random action than anything else.
The little black flip phone buzzed against the bed frame.
you upstairs? from Liam, of all people. He must have been visiting his brother. I sent back an affirmative and seconds later - which told me he'd been standing outside the door - he was knocking. A quick trip to open said door, then around the piles on the floor to turn the music down.
Liam must have figured the only safe place to stand was leaning against the door. "So...You walked out on Manda."
I moved a pile of sweatshirts and sank into the moon chair. "Yeah. Guess I did." To be honest, that whole exchange had a funny, almost out-of-body feel to it. More like I watched it happen than actually did it.
"Thank you."
Again, not what I was expecting.
Liam opened and closed his mouth a few times before he found the right words. "When Murphy was with Manda he...He wasn't happy at times. Downright miserable, really. And when you're the older sibling - by a whopping minute and forty-five seconds - you want your younger sibling to be happy." He put his hands in his pockets. "I haven't seen my brother this relaxed in a long time and he's content with you in a way he never was with Manda."
I clutched the pile of sweatshirts tighter, not sure what to say.
"I don't know," he said, "if I were in your position, if I would have walked away. I really don't. And to do that took a lot and, just...Thank you for having such faith in my brother."
Liam was open and raw in a way that was almost shocking in its intensity. It made me wonder what exactly Manda had done to him, and why anyone would ever want to hurt Murph in any capacity, but especially on this level.
"You would've," I said. "You would've walked away."
He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't have a solid answer for that."
Just because he wasn't sure didn't make me the better person. Did it?
"You're good for him," Liam said. "And thank you for that." He smiled softly. "And he is going to be unbearable for the majority of winter break."
I blinked. "He won't be that bad."
Liam outright chuckled at that. "Oh, yeah, he'll be fine for the first two weeks and then he'll be bear to live with." He brought one hand out of his pocket to swipe at his nose. "But you're good for him." He fumbled for the door handle.
"He's good for me, too." Not sure if he heard me, but he smiled one last time and left almost as quietly as he'd arrived. I sat in the chair, still clutching the pile of sweatshirts, and trying to put my newly melted brain back together again.
It really helped to put perspective on things. What perspective on what things was a little vague, but at the end of it all it boiled down to being with someone - loving someone - and being loved in the capacity Murph and I had found in each other. This was probably one of those cases where the head had problems reasoning through what the heart could understand instinctively.
It was more than slightly confusing when a critical examination was attempted. Better to just go with it, no questions asked.
There was another knock on the door. No point in me getting up to sit back down. "Yeah, it's open."
Murph slipped in and had no qualms about navigating the piles to sit on the only space on the bed not covered in physics material. "Hi."
"Hi." Now I was not only procrastinating at studying but also procrastinating at packing. But Murph was always a welcome distraction.
"So, Liam's done tomorrow at eleven and then we're packing the car and heading home."
"I have the seven to ten tomorrow."
"Shit." Murph scratched at the slight stubble he had going. "You'll be around in the morning?"
"Yeah." My room was a mess but he'd probably seen worse. "You wanna stay tonight? Up here?"
He hesitated, glancing at the open physics book. "You have an exam tomorrow."
"Tomorrow night." There was this almost tangible I sleep better when you're next to me that we both acknowledged but didn't verbalize. "I have all day to study for physics."
"Like you've done so far?" He smirked.
"Funny." Smiled anyway. "But really. Stay, please?"
He looked at me, then looked down, then finally back at me. "If you're sure."
"I'm sure." No hesitation on my part. There probably never would be, either.
Murph looked at my clock. It was late. "You want me to go grab some pajamas?"
"Yeah. I'll stuff all this stuff...Somewhere." Have I mentioned my hatred for packing? I asked Murph as much. He grinned. I scrubbed my hands over my face and mumbled, "I need to go to bed."
"I'll be right back."
The door swung shut behind him and left me there staring at the piles of stuff on the floor and wondering how I was going to get all of it home. Then again, did it all need to go home in the first place? Regardless, it went into the hamper and the hamper - now bulging - sat by the closet.
A pair of soccer shorts and a tank with a built-in bra were pajamas, and I was tugging the hair tie from my curls when Murph came back in, dropped both warm hands to my hips and tipped his forehead all the way down onto my bare shoulder.
Neither of us needed to say anything. The how long is winter break and I'm going to miss you was clearly there. But that was going to be then. We wanted to stay in the here and now for as long as possible. Here and now in this corner single with Murph and Ollie and nobody else, not even in memory.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Rust Bucket
My legs hurt, but I feel better than I have in a long time. I'm going to need to spend time - preferably while I read a hundred and something pages of Lear tonight - with my legs upright against a wall to drain the lactic acid from slightly abused muscles. My ass hurts. I've drank more water in the past two hours than I have all day.
I blame - and thank - all of this on my pal, Rust Bucket.
Let me back up before you guys think I'm more nutzo than normal. Remember all those commercials New Balance put out about people getting back together with running? How it shouldn't be difficult to have a relationship with running, and that getting it back is a good thing? Well, I don't have a relationship with running. I have one with Rust Bucket.
Rust Bucket is my bicycle, appropriately named because the thing is a bit old. I mean a good ten or eleven years, and we got him fairly new - maybe a year or two old - at a yard sale one summer when I was in middle school. So RB has been with me a while and of course made the move to college. He's a sturdy little shit, despite the startling amount of iron oxide (rust) on him, and he and I have gone on many an adventure, both here at college and at home.
RB and I haven't gone for a ride in the past four months. It's been the middle of winter; the tires needed some air (and actually wound up getting replaced yesterday), but none of that seemed to matter because rather than doing this damn formal lab report on Co(III) complexes, we took advantage of the nice weather and went for a 7.8 mile ride.
Yeah. My lower body is going to hate me in the morning.
For as much pain as rolling out of bed is going to be tomorrow, it was worth it. Really worth it. It feels really good to have gone for a ride.
Though maybe next time we'll start a little smaller.
I blame - and thank - all of this on my pal, Rust Bucket.
Let me back up before you guys think I'm more nutzo than normal. Remember all those commercials New Balance put out about people getting back together with running? How it shouldn't be difficult to have a relationship with running, and that getting it back is a good thing? Well, I don't have a relationship with running. I have one with Rust Bucket.
Rust Bucket is my bicycle, appropriately named because the thing is a bit old. I mean a good ten or eleven years, and we got him fairly new - maybe a year or two old - at a yard sale one summer when I was in middle school. So RB has been with me a while and of course made the move to college. He's a sturdy little shit, despite the startling amount of iron oxide (rust) on him, and he and I have gone on many an adventure, both here at college and at home.
RB and I haven't gone for a ride in the past four months. It's been the middle of winter; the tires needed some air (and actually wound up getting replaced yesterday), but none of that seemed to matter because rather than doing this damn formal lab report on Co(III) complexes, we took advantage of the nice weather and went for a 7.8 mile ride.
Yeah. My lower body is going to hate me in the morning.
For as much pain as rolling out of bed is going to be tomorrow, it was worth it. Really worth it. It feels really good to have gone for a ride.
Though maybe next time we'll start a little smaller.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
The V-Word
To breaking out of your comfort zone - or what little of it you have left after being a theater minor - and doing something different in the hopes of spreading the word to end the violence against women and girls around the world.
For more information, click the link below to learn about Eve Ensler, V-Day, and other information.
The Vagina Monologues.
Monday, November 28, 2011
15 Reasons to Love Knitting
(These are in no particular order.)
1. It's like a reset button for my head.
2. Imaging poking vital areas of the body with a bluntly sharp object - especially someone you're not quite fond of - produces a rather shark-like smile.
3. Something has to bring me out of my coffee induced delirium for me to actually get some decent sleep.
4. Repetitive motion I don't really have to think about does wonders for my blood pressure.
5. Revisiting #2 is also quite good for my blood pressure.
6. It's a fairly productive way to procrastinate.
7. Knitting is soothing.
8. When you finish a product, people look at you like you've actually accomplished something worth talking about.
9. Two very important concepts: Pretty colors and something shiny.
10. It's not a miracle cure by any means, but it works.
11. Teach someone to knit and you've possible taught them to clothe themselves for the rest of their life.
12. Revising #11: Or until their attention span runs out.
13. I'm really a 94-year-old woman at heart.
14. It's fun. (Yes, that's all there is to this one.)
15. If you're really good at it, you can do it both sober and drunk.
1. It's like a reset button for my head.
2. Imaging poking vital areas of the body with a bluntly sharp object - especially someone you're not quite fond of - produces a rather shark-like smile.
3. Something has to bring me out of my coffee induced delirium for me to actually get some decent sleep.
4. Repetitive motion I don't really have to think about does wonders for my blood pressure.
5. Revisiting #2 is also quite good for my blood pressure.
6. It's a fairly productive way to procrastinate.
7. Knitting is soothing.
8. When you finish a product, people look at you like you've actually accomplished something worth talking about.
9. Two very important concepts: Pretty colors and something shiny.
10. It's not a miracle cure by any means, but it works.
11. Teach someone to knit and you've possible taught them to clothe themselves for the rest of their life.
12. Revising #11: Or until their attention span runs out.
13. I'm really a 94-year-old woman at heart.
14. It's fun. (Yes, that's all there is to this one.)
15. If you're really good at it, you can do it both sober and drunk.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Since When?
Hi. It's been a while, hasn't it?
At this point I hope there's nothing swimming in my coffee mug that's been sitting on the floor since I left for soccer roughly six hours and twenty minutes ago. The coffee mug that takes all four cups from my coffee maker in one go with room to spare. It's the equivalent of heaven for this chick.
One assumption you could make as to my absence from my lovely blog - and my lovely blog reader, which keeps up me to date on what the rest of you happy people are doing - is that I've been busy with my last first semester of undergrad. Yeah, you read that right. I'm a senior. Believe me, it's still terrifying to me, and it's been a month since I've moved back to campus, and we're going to be starting week five already, which is another jaw-dropper. As a result there hasn't been much Murphy, and I apologize for that. However, trying to keep Murfee (my Focus) occupied and on task has been an uphill battle some days. Specifically the ones where I get out of lab and all I want to do is crawl into my dorm bed (which, if you haven't seen my Twitter, I BIG PUFFY HEART) and sleep for at least six hours. But I can't do that. It would be unproductive and one thing that I've managed to be is productive.
With some extra incentive, too.
I started playing soccer again.
The above statement gets it's own line because, for any of you that don't know, I had to stop playing soccer little over two years ago because of my health issues. I wasn't able to keep the fitness level required to be an official Heron, and it was a big step to realize that, and an even bigger step to realize that wasn't a path I could easily follow anymore. A path that was more hassle than it was worth, despite my love for the game. Two years later this feels like a second chance at doing what has been my first true love. I get to put my spandex on for a reason other than wearing it to bed, strap on some shin guards, and buy new goalkeeping gloves because my other ones have literally been shredded.
Soccer is keeping me sane. It's relaxing. Not as relaxing as knitting, which my dad brought my knitting needles to me today, so I'll spend some time unwinding with that before I go to bed. I have a second chance to do what I love.
And it's my senior year. There are a finite number of "tomorrows" for me.
Now, I could take another post to do one of my favorite "features" but that would take a little more time and, frankly, two posts directly after one another is a little odd. So, think of this as a shortened Things to Know. Kind of like an unexpected present.
- "Holy F--k that's a big spider!" (While in a car in the middle of campus)
- "Are you inebriated?" "No, I'm a chemistry major."
- I apparently can't communicate in written form to save my life. Or my lab report grade in analytical.
- To the professor that said students spend less than 10 hours per week on their work outside of class - I spend 10 1/2 hours a week in lab.
- I make a trip to Coldstone once a week. This seems to be an okay arrangement with my brain and my hips.
- I finally put up all my posters, cork-board, and Vera photo thingy last week.
- It's the beginning of week five, if you need a reference for the previous.
- I found my bedroom floor Wednesday, because I thought my mother was going to actually come in the house when she came up.
- It's five weeks in my senior year of college.
- Where the hell did the time go?
- I have a houseplant named Henry, and have named the majority of his babies after the subsequent English monarchs.
- Not one of the posters hanging on my walls is hung straight.
- My Focus is a slippery little bugger that likes to play on the train tracks out behind the house.
- Speaking of which, one of these days, when the damn train goes through, the hill and the house are going to slide into the freakin' lake.
- The prospect of graduating and going on to grad schools scares the shit out of me.
- While the previous is true, I think I'm ready for it.
- Why do men feel the need to sit with their hand in their pants? Or is this something only collegiate-age men do, because it's kind of awkward.
- My biochem partner for the first week fidgeted more than my niece when she has to potty.
- I carry on conversations with my houseplant like he should be answering me back. But you're supposed to talk to your plants, right? It helps them grow, right?
- I feel like I've been given a second chance at soccer, and I'm going to take it. Every minute of it.
- My mother and sister have been canning fiends lately. The result is that I have a jars of raspberry jam, applesauce, spaghetti sauce, and salsa currently in my possession.
- You'd have thought I was asking for the universe on a silver platter when I asked if I could have a jar of sauce.
- But yes, it's that damn good.
- I bought new colored pens from the bookstore on Friday and thought I'd died and gone to heaven during biochem.
- I have a love of office supplies.
- I finally hooked up the cable on Wednesday, just so I could watch Harry's Law.
- The fire marshal catches a glimpse of the tangled mess of wires that's everything on the one side of the room in a power strip, he'll probably have a heart attack.
- I could care less. Mostly because I'm a senior.
- And hell hath no fury like a Louise without her automated coffee pot.
At this point I hope there's nothing swimming in my coffee mug that's been sitting on the floor since I left for soccer roughly six hours and twenty minutes ago. The coffee mug that takes all four cups from my coffee maker in one go with room to spare. It's the equivalent of heaven for this chick.
One assumption you could make as to my absence from my lovely blog - and my lovely blog reader, which keeps up me to date on what the rest of you happy people are doing - is that I've been busy with my last first semester of undergrad. Yeah, you read that right. I'm a senior. Believe me, it's still terrifying to me, and it's been a month since I've moved back to campus, and we're going to be starting week five already, which is another jaw-dropper. As a result there hasn't been much Murphy, and I apologize for that. However, trying to keep Murfee (my Focus) occupied and on task has been an uphill battle some days. Specifically the ones where I get out of lab and all I want to do is crawl into my dorm bed (which, if you haven't seen my Twitter, I BIG PUFFY HEART) and sleep for at least six hours. But I can't do that. It would be unproductive and one thing that I've managed to be is productive.
With some extra incentive, too.
I started playing soccer again.
The above statement gets it's own line because, for any of you that don't know, I had to stop playing soccer little over two years ago because of my health issues. I wasn't able to keep the fitness level required to be an official Heron, and it was a big step to realize that, and an even bigger step to realize that wasn't a path I could easily follow anymore. A path that was more hassle than it was worth, despite my love for the game. Two years later this feels like a second chance at doing what has been my first true love. I get to put my spandex on for a reason other than wearing it to bed, strap on some shin guards, and buy new goalkeeping gloves because my other ones have literally been shredded.
Soccer is keeping me sane. It's relaxing. Not as relaxing as knitting, which my dad brought my knitting needles to me today, so I'll spend some time unwinding with that before I go to bed. I have a second chance to do what I love.
And it's my senior year. There are a finite number of "tomorrows" for me.
Now, I could take another post to do one of my favorite "features" but that would take a little more time and, frankly, two posts directly after one another is a little odd. So, think of this as a shortened Things to Know. Kind of like an unexpected present.
- "Holy F--k that's a big spider!" (While in a car in the middle of campus)
- "Are you inebriated?" "No, I'm a chemistry major."
- I apparently can't communicate in written form to save my life. Or my lab report grade in analytical.
- To the professor that said students spend less than 10 hours per week on their work outside of class - I spend 10 1/2 hours a week in lab.
- I make a trip to Coldstone once a week. This seems to be an okay arrangement with my brain and my hips.
- I finally put up all my posters, cork-board, and Vera photo thingy last week.
- It's the beginning of week five, if you need a reference for the previous.
- I found my bedroom floor Wednesday, because I thought my mother was going to actually come in the house when she came up.
- It's five weeks in my senior year of college.
- Where the hell did the time go?
- I have a houseplant named Henry, and have named the majority of his babies after the subsequent English monarchs.
- Not one of the posters hanging on my walls is hung straight.
- My Focus is a slippery little bugger that likes to play on the train tracks out behind the house.
- Speaking of which, one of these days, when the damn train goes through, the hill and the house are going to slide into the freakin' lake.
- The prospect of graduating and going on to grad schools scares the shit out of me.
- While the previous is true, I think I'm ready for it.
- Why do men feel the need to sit with their hand in their pants? Or is this something only collegiate-age men do, because it's kind of awkward.
- My biochem partner for the first week fidgeted more than my niece when she has to potty.
- I carry on conversations with my houseplant like he should be answering me back. But you're supposed to talk to your plants, right? It helps them grow, right?
- I feel like I've been given a second chance at soccer, and I'm going to take it. Every minute of it.
- My mother and sister have been canning fiends lately. The result is that I have a jars of raspberry jam, applesauce, spaghetti sauce, and salsa currently in my possession.
- You'd have thought I was asking for the universe on a silver platter when I asked if I could have a jar of sauce.
- But yes, it's that damn good.
- I bought new colored pens from the bookstore on Friday and thought I'd died and gone to heaven during biochem.
- I have a love of office supplies.
- I finally hooked up the cable on Wednesday, just so I could watch Harry's Law.
- The fire marshal catches a glimpse of the tangled mess of wires that's everything on the one side of the room in a power strip, he'll probably have a heart attack.
- I could care less. Mostly because I'm a senior.
- And hell hath no fury like a Louise without her automated coffee pot.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
MIA
Where the hell have I been the past month and a half, right? Finishing up the summer, working, being an Orientation Mentor (helping new students arrive, orient themselves, and generally get the lay of the land before things kicked off officially yesterday).
There's a bit that's happened between then and now, and as it's the start of my senior year of college (WTF did that happen?) and I'm currently using my biochemistry textbook as a booster seat in my desk chair (yeah, I'm good like that), there's probably a lot you've been wondering about your crazy Sagittarius. Rest assured, you'll get some introspection into my ever-scary mind before too long. At this moment, however, I need to pack up my lovely laptop and head to lab (who has lab the first week? Seriously...) but I'll leave you with this. This being the flashmob I was a part of during Orientation. Yes, the words I and flashmob were in the same sentence by design. Scary, huh?
Anyway, check it out, have a laugh, and generally get ready to crash your way through the first half of my collegiate undergrad experience.
Note: This song has a Pavlovian effect on all Orientation staff, myself included. Just sayin'.
There's a bit that's happened between then and now, and as it's the start of my senior year of college (WTF did that happen?) and I'm currently using my biochemistry textbook as a booster seat in my desk chair (yeah, I'm good like that), there's probably a lot you've been wondering about your crazy Sagittarius. Rest assured, you'll get some introspection into my ever-scary mind before too long. At this moment, however, I need to pack up my lovely laptop and head to lab (who has lab the first week? Seriously...) but I'll leave you with this. This being the flashmob I was a part of during Orientation. Yes, the words I and flashmob were in the same sentence by design. Scary, huh?
Anyway, check it out, have a laugh, and generally get ready to crash your way through the first half of my collegiate undergrad experience.
Note: This song has a Pavlovian effect on all Orientation staff, myself included. Just sayin'.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Murphy and Me XXXIX
[I get to change symbols at fifty. And yes, I had to look at wikipedia for that tidbit of information. Short section, but I didn't want to combine this with what's coming next. Happy Thursday.]
Maybe it was a good thing we didn't make it too far into the tournament. Playing soccer in a snow storm doesn't bother me (had to dig the peacoat out of the closet, finally) but we were more or less starting the downside slide of the semester. Couple more weeks until Thanksgiving, and after that it was a short foray into December and then finals would come up hard and fast.
Also between now and then would be my twentieth birthday.
So, considering all of that, it was probably a damn good thing we were knocked out by penalty kicks by Ithaca the following weekend. It freed up a lot more time. Time I should have spent doing back physics work and orgo practice problems. Time I spent doing anything but.
Except maybe driving myself absolutely batshit crazy with back homework.
Like I was trying to do on a Tuesday night. Finally had to say screw it and move onto T-S Britain from chem. Then again, having at least two hundred pages to read in one book alone (reading that was due three weeks ago) made the task rather daunting. Not to mention we were supposed to get a few inches of snow overnight.
Damn it.
My phone vibrated against the bed frame. Text from Izzy. Moulin rouge is on vh1. *squeeee*
Squee I did. Almost went headfirst off the bed trying to get the remote and was very grateful to find it had really only just started. Score.
Needless to say whatever focus I had left took a swan dive from the fourth floor to the sounds of beauty, truth, and love. And the sight of a green fairy shaking her ass.
I have up on anything academic two verses into One Day I'll Fly Away. The knock on the door came shortly thereafter. "Yeah?"
Murph poked his head in. "Hi."
"Hi." Motioned him in. My favorite part was coming up. "Whatcha doin'?"
He propped a hip against the bed, looking between me and the screen. "Wonderin' why my girlfriend hadn't answered when I saw her light was on."
"Oh." Checked my phone. Four new messages. "Sorry." I uncurled enough to sit up and drop a leg on either side of him. "I tried doing work, got a text from Izzy that Moulin Rouge was on - love this movie - and said to hell with it about an hour ago. Sorry."
"No, not it's fine." He turned to look at me straight on. "I just...Wanted to see if we were still on for dinner tomorrow at the Pub. And how you feel about last Saturday."
Or rather, how being knocked out of the NCAA tournament so early was sitting.
He bent to kiss my nose. "And - "
"And again? How many more are you gonna pull out?" I giggled.
"Funny," he grinned. "And - " He drew it out for effect, "You have a birthday coming up."
I did. November 22, actually. Five days from now. "You're planning something, aren't you?"
Murph smiled coyly; butterflies erupted low in my belly. "Maybe." He planted his hands on either side of my hips, leaning in and brushing his cheek against mine. He hadn't shaved this morning. "Can't tell you all my secrets." He pulled back to look at me. "Just some."
"Uh huh." My brain was goo. And there was a new sensation in my gut that was downright terrifying.
"I actually need to go do homework, so I will leave you to your movie." He kissed me gently. "See you tomorrow."
I squeezed his sides with my knees. "Yup. Seven?"
"Definitely." He hesitated on his way to the door, almost like he was going to say something. It was on the edge of my tongue, and after an awkward silence, he cracked a smile and said, very softly, "Bye, Ol."
Did that make us both cowards, that we couldn't say two words that were almost right there? Or maybe...Maybe it wasn't time yet. I lay on my belly, eyes on the screen and mouthing the words with Christian: like I've never seen the sky before/Want to vanish inside your kiss/Every day I love you more and more.
Come what may indeed.
Maybe it was a good thing we didn't make it too far into the tournament. Playing soccer in a snow storm doesn't bother me (had to dig the peacoat out of the closet, finally) but we were more or less starting the downside slide of the semester. Couple more weeks until Thanksgiving, and after that it was a short foray into December and then finals would come up hard and fast.
Also between now and then would be my twentieth birthday.
So, considering all of that, it was probably a damn good thing we were knocked out by penalty kicks by Ithaca the following weekend. It freed up a lot more time. Time I should have spent doing back physics work and orgo practice problems. Time I spent doing anything but.
Except maybe driving myself absolutely batshit crazy with back homework.
Like I was trying to do on a Tuesday night. Finally had to say screw it and move onto T-S Britain from chem. Then again, having at least two hundred pages to read in one book alone (reading that was due three weeks ago) made the task rather daunting. Not to mention we were supposed to get a few inches of snow overnight.
Damn it.
My phone vibrated against the bed frame. Text from Izzy. Moulin rouge is on vh1. *squeeee*
Squee I did. Almost went headfirst off the bed trying to get the remote and was very grateful to find it had really only just started. Score.
Needless to say whatever focus I had left took a swan dive from the fourth floor to the sounds of beauty, truth, and love. And the sight of a green fairy shaking her ass.
I have up on anything academic two verses into One Day I'll Fly Away. The knock on the door came shortly thereafter. "Yeah?"
Murph poked his head in. "Hi."
"Hi." Motioned him in. My favorite part was coming up. "Whatcha doin'?"
He propped a hip against the bed, looking between me and the screen. "Wonderin' why my girlfriend hadn't answered when I saw her light was on."
"Oh." Checked my phone. Four new messages. "Sorry." I uncurled enough to sit up and drop a leg on either side of him. "I tried doing work, got a text from Izzy that Moulin Rouge was on - love this movie - and said to hell with it about an hour ago. Sorry."
"No, not it's fine." He turned to look at me straight on. "I just...Wanted to see if we were still on for dinner tomorrow at the Pub. And how you feel about last Saturday."
Or rather, how being knocked out of the NCAA tournament so early was sitting.
He bent to kiss my nose. "And - "
"And again? How many more are you gonna pull out?" I giggled.
"Funny," he grinned. "And - " He drew it out for effect, "You have a birthday coming up."
I did. November 22, actually. Five days from now. "You're planning something, aren't you?"
Murph smiled coyly; butterflies erupted low in my belly. "Maybe." He planted his hands on either side of my hips, leaning in and brushing his cheek against mine. He hadn't shaved this morning. "Can't tell you all my secrets." He pulled back to look at me. "Just some."
"Uh huh." My brain was goo. And there was a new sensation in my gut that was downright terrifying.
"I actually need to go do homework, so I will leave you to your movie." He kissed me gently. "See you tomorrow."
I squeezed his sides with my knees. "Yup. Seven?"
"Definitely." He hesitated on his way to the door, almost like he was going to say something. It was on the edge of my tongue, and after an awkward silence, he cracked a smile and said, very softly, "Bye, Ol."
Did that make us both cowards, that we couldn't say two words that were almost right there? Or maybe...Maybe it wasn't time yet. I lay on my belly, eyes on the screen and mouthing the words with Christian: like I've never seen the sky before/Want to vanish inside your kiss/Every day I love you more and more.
Come what may indeed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)