Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Ode to a notecard.

In the shop, you watch
my every move; I watch too. 
But you never change. 

I love this note card. I've loved it since we got them in a few months ago, the new summery cards. She certainly is the epitome of summer with her amazing hat, brightly colored outfit, fantastic shoes. But it's not the colors that make me linger on the note bay, not her shoes that catch my attention as I refill pencil sharpeners and leather wallets. It's her.

Was she real? She had to be, once. The way she's sitting, the curve of her shoulders, the look of absolute contentment on her face; these are signs of life. Her hair is perfectly curled, short and trendy for today's standards (this is a photograph from a real book in the Bodleian, in case you were wondering. 1938), her eyebrows perfectly plucked, lips super red. A friend of mine says that you can tell a lot about a person from the corners of their mouths. Look at hers, they go so far up, like her smile will never go away, perfectly etched into her round face. I bet she even smiles in her sleep. Her top looks effortlessly tied in the back, like she's the kind of girl who just gets up in the morning, picks up a random rag, turns it into a shirt and pulls it off like it's nothing. The way she's sitting interests me as well; she looks like she's in mid position. It's sort of a shy position, her knees up like her shoulders, like she's in mid shrug. Her hands are in mid wring, like she just caught the eye of that boy she's been admiring on the beach for so long. But least us forget; she is just a girl. This picture was taken from the Monster Book for Girls, not women; a book for children. On the back it says it's one of many anonymous pictures, meaning the artist and subject will both be anonymous forever.

So yes, I suppose I have a crush on a note card woman. I think my sanity is slipping.

But really, this is normal behavior, for me anyway. I always tend to be interested in the idea of inanimate things having souls, coming to life and  talking. Both my major book projects are about similar things, both along these same lines. My tutor even commented on it in my last class, that I seem to have this fascination with things coming to life, with imaginary friends and split personalities; people who are not alive, who don't exist. I like to make them exist. He's right and I wonder why.

I wrote a story for the course about a girl who still talks to her dead brother (two like that now that I think about it). I wrote one about a boy who decides he doesn't exist and creates an imaginary girl to take his place. I have a novel idea bout a person with a split personality, basically being ones own best friend. I'm a one trick pony.

Oh well. I honestly think that seeing Toy Story when I was 8 (ohmyGodIwas8whenToyStorycameout) had a serious effect on my psyche. Before that movie came out, I was already convinced that my toys were alive. I used to tell all my dolls and stuffed animals every night that even though I slept with Samantha (American Girl Doll) and Izabel (stuffed elephant made of old table cloths) that that did not mean I loved the rest any less. I had a serious concern that some of my toys would feel left out and think I was playing favorites. So no wonder I write what I write. They say to write what you know, and write what you like, and I guess that's just what I'm doing.

No wonder I love the movies Bogus and Heart and Souls. Toy Story 3 made me cry, like, real tears that hurt (ask Nicole, she was there). I talk all the time about the responsibility of YA authors, or anyone who writes for children, and I talk about it because it's so important. I'm living proof; the things I was into as a kid have 100% shaped who I am today. Assuring my stuffed animals of my equal and unwavering love lead to me falling head over heals for a woman in a note card. That sounded a little less crazy in my head. But only a little.

I wrote this blog because Beth told me too. Also, because I won't be around for the next 12 days. First London in an hour, then Paris the next day. On the third we're running off to Vienna to stay at Shobha's house for the rest of the week. I can't wait, and also can't figure out what I've forgotten to pack. I'm sure there's something.


Friday, May 20, 2011

In case the world ends tomorrow...

...I want to be remembered like this.
In case some of you were not aware, the world may or may not be ending tomorrow. So, I'll try to keep this nice and positive, in case it is my last blog post. I can see the internet surviving somehow even if the world ends. I feel like it's so engrained in the world, in every fiber of humanity's being that somehow, even when all the physical things that are supposed to keep the internet up and running are destroyed, it will still exist. The next generation will just have to figure out how to tap into it, and when they do, BAM, major7th at Keep your 'lectric eye on me babe will still exist, and thus, so shall I. I'm just securing my legacy here with this good old blog spot, or just wasting my time. Either way, I'm fine with. We don't have a TV, what else am I supposed to do?

About a month ago Rose gave me this post card to fill out for an art project that a girl in her class is going to do in the next few years. It said on the back, "I graduate in ___. Two years from then, I will be..." and we had to fill in the blanks. On the other side we had to write in our address in two years, if we knew it, and this person is apparently going to send the cards back to us in two years. Some people, I'm sure, wrote funny things, but I took it literally and wrote what I really hope I'm going to be doing in two years. Here's what I wrote, and this is the returning-to-the-USA version of my life. (There's a whole staying-in-the-UK version too, but that one is really unrealistic.)

"I graduate in 2012. Two years from then, I will be back in the States, living in Philly, writing away and trying to get published. Hopefully I will have a job I don't hate and will be well on my way toward, if not already financially independent."

That's all I really want, to still be writing and have enough money to live. That's all I need. I'm easy, in that regard, so hopefully this is not as unrealistic as my staying-in-the-UK plan, which includes either marrying for citizenship, making it big with the next best seller and or winning the lottery and buying a castle. I just want to write and not hate my job. I don't even have to like it, not at first anyway. I just don't want to hate it. That is it.

So if the world ends tomorrow, and this is being read by the next generation of the world that has sprung up from my world's ashes and is just now discovering the internet and all that the former world once was (I'm sorry, really), I want you to know that I had a plan. I had a plan, and those amazing pink sunglasses. I had a plan, and a minor addiction to ridiculous sunglasses. Read the rest of my blog to see what else I was into, future-world-internet-discoverer, if you are so inclined. You will also see that I loved Neil Gaiman, loved living in Oxford, loved Star Wars, and loved everything that has to do with books and reading and writing. Also, you will see that I never did learn to spell, like to sometimes make up words, and enjoyed a well used hyphen. My long gone spirit will not be offended if you soon get bored, many do. It happens.

However, one thing that I am very glad happened before the end of the world is that I finally reached 50 followers. Thank you, 50th follower, you may go down in history as not only my 50th follower, but perhaps even my last follower. I promise future people, that I was not nearly as much of a tool in real life as I sound sometimes in this blog. It's all for show. What I'm trying to show exactly I'm not too sure.

We went to a poetry slam last night ('we' always meaning Alisha and I) and this guy preformed a poem about how lots of guys like girls with either big butts or big...you know...but that he likes a girl who reads. I fell in love with him a little bit. Then he did another one about teaching kids, and how worth it the job is, and I fell in love with him pretty hard. Then Alisha preformed her poem, and rocked the house. Watch it HERE, well worth your time. I'm so proud of her, I'm way to chicken to even get up and do that. Well done Alisha! Also note, future people, that I really loved my friends. All of them, all over the world, every one of them.

And my family. My mom sent me a package full of hand-made pillow cases for all my housemates. She is the sweetest; they are lovely.

I feel like, seeing as I made a big deal about the possibility of this being my last blog, that I should probably end with something profound. I've got nothing. The only advice I have for the future, if you are reading this on the cusp of remaking the world, is to just be nice. Be nice to each other and you'll all be alright. Be nice to the world too, don't mess with the planet or it will mess with you. Just to be nice might seem like really simplistic advice for a whole new generation of humans on earth, but as Jim Henson once said, "simple is good." I find it hard to argue with the creator of the Muppets (Google that one, future people, once you figure out how to use Google).

Alright, that's it for my Apocalypse blog. I'll see you on the other side of tomorrow, world, wherever that may be.


Wednesday, May 18, 2011


I am so close to having 50 followers, sooooo close. Tell your brothers, sisters, second cousins twice removed to follow me. Because you know me, it's all about the numbers. (jokes jokes jokes)

Things have been feeling different lately. It's that awful feeling that things are changing, which is not always an awful feeling. Just in this case it is. My classes are over, now it's just up to me and my friends to keep on our final projects until September. It's the season of goodbyes. I am going to have to say my first round of goodbyes far sooner than I ever thought I would. Already said one on Monday, two next week, another in July. Why can't everyone I love just end up in the same country/town/city/wherever?

Change can be good and exciting, and usually I don't mind it all that much. But this time I'm not having it. I'm in a melodramatic mood, so I think I'll stop writing now.

Oh one last thing. A bunch of my friends and I got stories and poems into this little Anthology put together by the Brookes Creative Writing Society. So that's pretty exciting. Don't worry mom, I pre-ordered a bunch of copies for you. Sweet cover hu?

Over and out,


Monday, May 2, 2011

My tea went cold as I read the news.

This has been an extremely eventful weekend. Started with the wedding on Friday, then May Day festivities Saturday night into Sunday morning. Lots of reasons for people to get wasted. It smelled like vomit and chips as I walked through St. Clements on my way to the city at 5something am, and I won't even describe the things I saw. Your welcome.

It was all very exciting.

I wanted a crown of flowers SO badly. WHY didn't anyone tell me that's what you do on May Day? 

Then, to top off the eventful weekend, I woke up this morning to my facebook newsfeed, full of people celebrating the death of Osama Bin Laden. Apparently, while I was sleeping, US troops were hard at work raiding his strong hold, which it took us ten years to finally find. He resisted, a firefight ensued, Bin Laden was killed. There was dancing in the streets of New York. Apparently couches were burned in Morgantown, as we do. 

But it's all making me feel a little uneasy. I don't deny that this is great news, a big step toward getting us out of the war and ending the violence. However, I don't feel comfortable celebrating the fact that someone has died, no matter who they are. It does say, everywhere that I've read anyway, that the US troops raided his stronghold, but he resisted, meaning that they tried to capture him before they killed him. I would rather they had managed to capture him so he could stand trial for what he's done.  

I can't help but think of one of my favorite Yoda quotes; "war does not make one great." You may think it's naive or immature to quote from Star Wars when trying to make a point about serious world issues, but just look at what that little green puppet is saying first. When you take away everything associated with where the quote came from, it absolutely rings true. 

I am glad that Obama has delivered on one of his promises, I'm glad we are closer to ending the war, and I'm glad no Americans were killed, but I still don't feel right celebrating death, even if it had to happen. I can only hope that this whole event brings us one tiny step closer to bringing about a world where killing is no longer necessary to achieve peace.