Color it Mia

P.S.

2014-08-09T16:49:00.003-07:00

Oh, the post script. I'm gonna do it.
Currently, I'm sitting in a completely empty university. The motion detection lights turned on when I walked by, the doors were all locked but one, and even the janitors are missing.
Sitting here I realize the path I'm on is the right one. It may not end how I'm expecting, but it's the right path.
I'm lacing up my boots, I'm stretching out my legs.
This is going to be hard. There are going to be long nights and writers block and tearing out of hair, but this is what I want to do. Write, full-time. I want to write stories and weave webs and touch people. I want nurses on their lunch break to sit down with my book and read a chapter. I want middle schoolers beyond their reading levels to pick up my books and challenge them. I want book enthusiasts to finish my book and think about it, mull it over in their head for the week to come.
I've never been able to communicate who I am very well. I'm a mixed message, a Gemini to the core. I think it's because I am more than just one person up here in my brain. There are thousands of lives, of people and personalities that exist solely in my mind. There has been a boy in my head since middle school, Adam with sandy brown hair and thin lips, that grew up from his small dreams in his town and now is serving a mission trip in Argentina. The sun kisses his skin, a light caress that leaves him bronze and summertime. Noelle is still traveling. She broke in her hiking boots, the blue stripe on the side long peeled off and missing. Her hair grew a couple inches, the icy blonde curls tangled in a perma-braid she wears everyday. She no longer cries for her mom, the cold woman who raised her is long dead, and instead adopted a boxer-mutt and wanders with him. Kira is still struggling with who she is. Physically, she hasn't changed much in my head. But she went from a close-minded naive girl to someone who is actually exposed to different people. She met a gay person for the first time in her life recently, the thought that men could love each other never entered her mind before that. She is slowly settling into where she is, adjusting to her new normal.
These people are real to me. It's impossible to explain, the sincerity of emotion that comes over me when I think about these characters I've imagined. There's been times I've thought of Noelle like she was a separate person, like I could text her and ask her how her travels are progressing. Or Adam, the shy middle-school president now serving his God in a different country. I would love to have a religious discussion with him, talk about what he thinks is going to happen when we die.
--
Everyone I tell that I'm going to grad school for writing is supportive. They nod, exclaim how no one knows how to write anymore and congratulate me on my path. Some mentally scratch their heads and change the subject.
There has only been one person holding me back from this path. And it's myself. I scold myself, telling myself that I couldn't be smart enough, or good enough, or old enough.
Well, fuck that.
I'm doing it anyway.

Epilogue

2014-07-27T06:47:00.001-07:00

I think it's time.
I've never stopped writing- don't get me wrong. But it's time to close up shop here. It's been a weird four years, that's for sure. I found myself disliking when people mentioned my blog to me instead of enjoying it. I found myself comparing my blog to others- which is enormously stupid. I don't want to post publicly anymore, I just don't have the drive to anymore.

I'll leave it up- I want to be able to peruse my time in England, as I documented it fully and without reserve. I want to look at how my writing has changed, and what I was like through my college years. Four years is a long time to blog (even though in my last year I have only posted 8 times).

Here's something I haven't shared on here yet- I'm applying to grad school, MFA in Creative Writing.
I have a couple places in mind. Knowing me, I'll move to a new city and be bored, so I'll pick this back up. But for the last year I'm in Minnesota, I'll leave this blog how it is. Dusty, neglected and nostalgic.

One more thing: I'm working on a real-life novel. I have no idea when I'll finish, but when I do, I'll let you guys know.

Goodbye, it was nice sharing a bit of my brain with you all. Maybe I'll see you in a year, maybe never again. I loved every comment you left, and every piece of advice you shared.

There is something special about blogging. I post, with all the intentions of what the words mean and the stories behind them. But you don't. You don't know the whole story or the whole background. So you have to piece together who I am as a person, bit by bit. There are many women who I feel I "know" through their blogs. I know their kids, where they live, who they date. But I don't know them behind the words. I don't know what their voices sound like, or if they laugh with a weird guff-fa. All I see are the words in front of me, and what they choose to give. So I gave my words to you, dear readers. I didn't give you everything- I still have bits and pieces that are hidden from the public eye. But I gave you my words, and I'm thankful that you received them.
Words are powerful. Spoken words can be twisted and mangled, but written words are powerful in that they are permanent. They exist forever in their typo-ed form, black and white, concrete in our universe. Don't forget that. As print flits away and technology stays, people forget that writing is still an art. What I do, is art. I create and make mistakes and write really shitty stories. But I try again, and it always comes out different. Art is fluid, while words are frozen, the icy lake who, when spring comes, will melt on its own time, finally giving way to the fishers and the boaters.

I love to write, and I hope you enjoyed my writing. Below is a quote from the House on Mango Street, a book that literally changed my life. I got it as a reading assignment in middle school. And when I read it, it spoke to me. The words that Sandra Cisneros wrote paved the way to where I am now. Enjoy.

"They are the only ones who understand me. I am the only one who
understands them. Four skinny trees with skinny necks and pointy elbows like
mine. Four who do not belong here but are here. Four raggedy excuses planted
by the city. From our room we can hear them, but Nenny just sleeps and doesn’t
appreciate these things.
Their strength is their secret. They send ferocious roots beneath the
ground. They grow up and they grow down and grab the earth between their
hairy toes and bite the sky with violent teeth and never quit their anger. This is
how they keep.
Let one forget his reason for being, they’d all droop like tulips in a glass,
each with their arms around the other. Keep, keep, keep, trees say when I sleep.
They teach.
When I am too sad and too skinny to keep keeping, when I am a tiny thing
against so many bricks, then it is I look at trees. When there is nothing left to
look at on this street. Four who grew despite concrete. Four who reach and do
not forget to reach. Four whose only reason is to be and be."

A Conclusion

2014-05-19T17:59:00.000-07:00

This post is a long time coming.
I'm graduating college.
And it doesn't feel real. After this summer, I will be a post grad. Alumni. A college graduate.
What can I say about it? What do I need to say about it?
I've typed this post 2, 3, 5 times already. For me, an introduction of a paper is easy. A thesis: easy. Body paragraphs, citations, bibliography: easy. The conclusion is the hardest part. I know what I have to say, and I know it has to end. But how do I say it?
College is a finite amount of time. 4 years if you're lucky, 5 if you change your major once or twice.
4 years to live on your own. To buy your own groceries. To worry about money, and rent, and gas.
4 years to make friends and lose friends. To have love and lose that, too.
4 years to soak up knowledge. To listen and take notes to these people that want to teach you.
4 years to make connections to people you would never encounter.
4 years to make mistakes. Big ones.
4 years of hangovers and parties. Of sleeping in and staying up all night.
4 years of not knowing the answer.
And after those 4 years, overnight, you have to know. You have to be an adult. Get a job, find a partner, get married and have kids. Or be an entrepreneur. Or travel the world. You just have to know.
But here I am, and I'm still floating in the womb. My cookin' time isn't done. I'm not ready to be born into the world yet. But the contractions are coming and there is nothing stopping it but time and nature.
So, you open your eyes to the bright world and you cry out, and you decide to live. And you decide that those 4 years are not the best or the worst years, but 4 amazing years of your life. You will remember them always. You will cherish the people you meet. You will grin at the memory of a professor of Shakespeare, or a teacher of rhetoric. (And you'll swear at the bills that come in the mail.)
So yes, this is a conclusion. It's a closing of a book. The story is ending, the climax is done, and the characters need a finale. But don't forget to pick another book up. Maybe this time, it's blank. And you have the power to fill those white pages with whatever you want. Maybe it's not blank. Maybe you "know" how the story will unfold.
All I know is, that this is a conclusion. But it's not the end.

Blue Sky

2014-05-01T09:39:00.000-07:00

Sometimes life is a really blue sky. This is a picture from a sunroof in a car, zooming down the highway. Blue sky for miles, not a single cloud.
In Minnesota, winters are long. Like, Game of Thrones long.
We forget what sweat trickling down your neck feels like. We forget about shorts and tan skin and sunglasses.
This winter has been really, really long. But it's also been great. I've made new friends and new acquaintances. I've tried new things and gone to new restaurants. I've explored Duluth more, really gotten to know the culture.
I've discovered that quietly, without me realizing it, that I've built a life here. A whole life that I could easily and comfortably slip into.
But you know me.

-life is like a greasy piece of pizza-

2014-04-30T10:56:00.000-07:00

Nauseating, but oddly satisfying.
{I got a Sam's club membership for free. Guess how many time's I've gone. Guess.}

NERDGASM OVER BOOKS

2014-04-22T11:28:00.003-07:00

{source}

I love when people get really, really, into books. A book series, a favorite classic, I don't care.
Here are things I know books do:

Help your imagination. Books are literally a public little window into the author's brain. You get to interact and experience this whole dimension that exists in the person's brain. Like, holy shit.

Help your vocabulary. I know I wouldn't have the vocabulary I have if I didn't read so much. There are so many words in the English language, and they are all beautiful. (Even moist. I don't get people's repulsion with that word.)

Help you understand the opposite sex. I'm not a dude. I don't get it. I don't own a penis and never will I. So I love reading books in first person present tense with a guy as the main character. I get a cool insight on a (albeit, edited) version of a guy's brain.

Help you be cool. Dudes/chicks dig someone who reads. Forreal. It's rare in this time and age to find someone who actually enjoys reading. One time, I went on a date with a guy and he told me he hated to read. I didn't go on another date with him. Is this snobby and exclusionary? Yes. Is it something I require in a mate? Absolutely. No shame.

Books are seriously the best thing ever. Dialogue! Imagination! Fancy words! Hunky dudes! Badass girls! Wizards and magic and zombies and a thousand things that will never happen in this world. Escape to the land of your choosing, have fun. Reading is a salve to your soul.

ALSO if you want to see some bookshelf "porn" (don't worry, it's safe for work) CLICK HERE.

Life Through a Fish Eye

2014-04-16T09:42:00.002-07:00

{my papa}

I recently got a holga fisheye film camera. Plastic, made in China, the works. But what's really fun is the lens is detachable, letting me play with it with my iPhone. I want those small magnetic lenses specifically for iPhones , but ain't nobody got money for that.
*cough* My birthday is coming up, though... *cough*

Life here is busy. School projects are all coming together at once (as they usually do). Comm classes are almost always back heavy, so around finals week is when my sanity begins to run out.
I'm going to Bonnaroo again! This time I may share some pictures.... but I always say that, don't I?

Brown Eggs are My Inspiration

2014-03-09T17:16:00.003-07:00

"Inspiration" is hard work.
It's hard to be inspired when you sit in the small class rooms every week. Where you see the same people, hear the same jokes, sing the same songs, listen to the same radio station.
So, sometimes you have to work on being inspired. Buy brown eggs instead of white. Listen to christian rock, or heavy metal. Read boring Russian books and smutty romance fiction. Walk on the left side of the sidewalk, wear converse in the middle of winter. Watch Frozen again and again. Sing "Let it Go" in your head when you are at work. Make friends with snotty people. Be open and close minded. Budget your money and spend lavishly. Seek inspiration in your life.
Yes, on paper my life is very boring. I wake up, go to work. Take a nap or do homework. Go to school all day. Go to the library and study. Hang out at a friend's house and play guitar/watch movies.
Rinse, wash, repeat.
But you miss all the crumbs in the keyboard, the fingers behind the keystrokes. You miss the brisk morning air as I walk to work, the fresh power sparkling rainbows. You miss the freshly washed jeans, the messy bun. You miss the cute boy in your class, the one that you stare at the back of his head, wishing you would talk to him. You miss the sweat in the hot hallways at my college, the perspiration gathering at my forehead and armpits, the unattractive mess. All of these are normal, they happen to every single one of us. But you have to make those mundane moments count, make them inspiration to living a full life, a happy one.
Let your life be boring and wonderful at the same time. We all can't be rockstars, celebrities with hoards of people telling them they are special. We need to tell ourselves we are special, that we lead special lives. That we mean something to someone in this universe, and if that's only one or two people, that it's okay.
We are special, we can be inspired, we can inspire other people. I promise.

It's March Already? & a Photo

2014-03-02T16:26:00.001-08:00

{my feet in Budapest}

Three months into 2014, and I've created one post. Just one.
I'm contemplating what to do with this space. It's been amazing. I love writing, and I love that I have stuck with this for four years. Four years.
It's my longest project yet. But am I willing to keep going? That is the biggest question. I've had less and less inspiration to write here, because sometimes I feel like I have nothing to offer to the "blogging community".
What is really going on in my life? Should I really share it? I have found myself hesitating more and more before posting, something that I promised myself I wouldn't do.
But don't worry, I'm not willing to give up this space still. I want to keep going, keep sharing, keep writing. Because it's fun, and it's a place I know I can really say anything because hey, who really reads this anyway? (Besides you, Hilgy. I know you do.)
I still have yet to share pictures from my traveling adventures- something I was so good about my last two trips.
I promise, promise, promise I'll upload them to Flickr and share them here.
See you soon, I hope.

Oh, Hey. I Didn't Die.

2014-02-07T09:15:00.000-08:00

Right now I'm procrastinating HARD CORE on my Russian homework, so naturally a post is going to come out of it.
I'm back!
This winter break from school I travelled around Eastern Europe, I went to Budapest, Vienna, Prague, Munich, Zurich, Basel and Amsterdam.
I have lots of pictures that I have to organize and I'll make a post for each city. Because I'm THAT kind of blogger.
I've been slowly but surely working on my writing- right now I'm in a video game entertainment class so I've even written a couple outlines for video game plot-lines. Because who wants to pay attention in class? I'd rather write!
My teacher in that class gave us a "free writing/tell me about yourself" assignment, and I turned in a lengthy three page whomper. I'm an over-sharer on paper, and I love free writing assignments. Sorry, Professor.
So far- this semester is much better than last. 1 less credit and 1 less work shift a week makes a HUGE difference. Not on my bank account though.
Speaking of, I've been hunting down an inexpensive yet wonderful eyeliner (these are the things I do on my free time. Yup.) and I found one! But it's from China! And it won't be here until March 8 - March 26. Yes, a whole month to two month process. This eyeliner better be the best ever. Knowing me, I'll forget I ordered it, it'll come in the mail, and it'll be like Christmas came early.
Enough typing!
I'll post about my trip soon.

2013 in Review

2013-12-30T14:25:00.003-08:00

If you don't want to read an ungodly long post, click away. Here is 2013 in review (iPhone pictures, some from instagram and some from personal files!)

I finally got glasses that I have been needing for a while. I put them on and said, "Wow! I can read people's license plates now!"

I got a job as a playground monitor.

Moved into my first (and not last) apartment.

Giant snow storm at the beginning of the year, pretty usual. My roommate and I walking to the grocery store to get ice cream... typical.

Got a job as a phlebotomist at St. Luke's hospital in Duluth. (Still in this job!)

Me on my last day of junior year!

Endless barbecues during the summer.

Celebrating my 21st birthday with roommates and friends!

Driving down to Tennessee for Bonnaroo!

My 'roo crew.

Beach bum... which led to...

Me being really, really tan. Holy cow.

My grandpa passed away. He had been sick for a long, long time.

Went to a friend-of-a-friend's wedding and had a blast. Everyone there was in the England trip the year before mine, so we all had living in England in common!

Went to my cousin Mary's wedding. Welcome to our enormous family (41 cousins, phew) Adam!

Visited an alpaca farm with my co-workers!

My high school friends Dany and Kelsey finally (really, finally, it's my senior year!) visited me in Duluth!

Decorating for Christmas this year.

Yeah.
Happy New Year! Next time I talk to you guys, I will be across the globe.
Starting 2014 off with a bang.

Guilt

2013-12-09T16:56:00.002-08:00

"My youthful dreams of the future were born from the gentle sadness of those evenings, far removed from the rest of life, when you lie in the grass beside the remains of someone else's campfire, with your bicycle beside you, watching the purple stripes left in the western sky by the sun that has just set, and you can see the first stars in the east." -Omon Ra (page 122)

There are many things I feel guilty of, in my lifetime.
They'll come to me like little thistles in the wood. I won't notice them all the time, but man, sometimes I'll sit down and realize they are stuck to my ass.
I feel guilty I come from a well off family.
I feel guilty, all the time, that I am white.
I feel guilty about my privilege, about my job, about my warm bed at night.
I feel guilty about my college education, my fancy electronics.

But most of all, lately, I feel guilty that I can travel. You see, I just booked a flight to Budapest. It was as easy as a click of a button. Then I bought a plane ticket home, click. I booked my hostel reservations, click. I bought my train tickets, click.

And then the guilt came. Why do I deserve this trip? Why do I get to go travel around for a little bit? And why am I now, as I type this, guilty about my guilt?

I'm so sorry that some people don't get to experience the world. It saddens me. Because you don't realize how tiny, how small, how unimportant you are until you've seen places that you aren't from. And that's a good thing. It humbles you. It makes you grow up. I wish I could take all the people in my life that want to travel and stuff them in my suitcase. Bring them along. Swing my arm around their shoulder and explore the world.

So.
I'm going on a trip, guys.
Budapest > Prague > Vienna > Munich > Zurich > Basel > Amsterdam.
Phew.
Oh, and solo too.

Rat Race

2013-12-07T18:08:00.003-08:00

Inhale.
I feel like I can't catch my breath.
New clothes, new coats, it's a sale! Black friday, bright lights, new Starbucks flavor, buy new! Buy used! Buy now! Retweet, social media, push, push, push, post again, repost. Reblog, signal boost, go viral, be a pop star. Skinny bones, skinny faces, skinny limbs and muscle! But too much muscle is gross! Straighten your hair! Get rid of hair, wax, brush, shave, wax again.
And I'm caught again, gaining advice by the second, sucking in media, I need the new iPod, the new iPad, the new iCrap and iBuy and iWant New.
The "I don't want to work" but I deserve new, good stuff. I deserve stuff. Why do I have to work for my stuff? Fill the house, buy the furniture, buy the new sheets and the new quilt and oh my god, chevron is in and now it's so outdated. And oh, my house is so messy, please excuse it.
And paleo, vegan, vegetarian, label the food, label the water, the soy sauce packets, the sodium intake, the food you cut up and put it in your mouth, we have to have a label for it!
Shiny shoes and shiny cars and Chanel and Dior and I want what famous people want, and I want to be famous and go viral and Vine, why won't anyone watch my videos? Maybe I'm too fat? I have an okay voice, maybe I should go into podcasts? Nah, no one gets famous from podcasts. Cancer patients always visit celebrities, I want cancer, pray for you, pray for me, pray for your fallen comrades, I'll pray for your family, I send love and hearts, I send good vibes, but really I just type on the keyboard and forget about your problems.
I know I can't catch my breath.
Exhale.

Final Semester aka I Want to Throw Up

2013-11-21T15:51:00.003-08:00

{from the government shutdown. STILL makes me laugh every time. God bless the Queen.}

So I just registered for my last "full" semester. I'll have to take a May term and a Summer term, but OTHER THAN THAT.
Twas my last full.
My last winter in Duluth. My last Thanksgiving, my last Christmas. My last fall, my last snow flurries.
That is, if I don't fail any of my classes this semester and get into an online course that I'm waitlisted on.
How did it come so fast? I have been moaning and griping at you people for four years to get outta here. You've got to be sick of it already.
Thanks for stickin' around. I appreciate it.
I would like to know- if you aren't my mom (hi mom!) or Kelsey (hi Kelsey!), why do you follow me? Why do you take time out of your day to read these electronic words on your screen?
About two hours ago, my faculty advisor pulled me aside and asked if I would be a student ambassador for the 2013 Russian olympic hockey team on Saturday.
Sat. Ur. Day.
I'm going to throw up. I have to speak Russian to these people. People I don't know (which makes me already nervous) in which I must speak a language I am not confident it. I am not confident in my Russian speaking abilities. I'm terrified I'll say something wrong. I mis-pronounce a lot of people. Imagine public speaking. Add a difficult language. Stir in famous people. Sprinkle in a sport I know nothing about. Bake at 350 and kill me NOW.
I'm sorry. I really am excited, I mean, I'll get to meet the Olympic team! Wow! But seriously. Why can't they know English.
And get this? My faculty advisor told him he is going to send "their best student". I laughed really hard at this. I'm getting a solid D, maybe C in Russian right now. I am by far their least strong student.
But whatcha gonna do, huh?
I'll inform you of my public humiliation later.
Oh, and here's a flickr that inspired me today.

Community of Women

2013-11-20T07:32:00.002-08:00

{Look at our baby faces!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!}

Is it wrong that I am jealous of Amazon women?
Strong, tall, super powers. Wonder Woman could kick some serious ass.
I surround myself with Wonder Women.
Kind hearts, open mouths, speaking the truth.
Some things I love in a friend. Honestly, candid honesty. Tell me my breath stinks. Say I need to fix my hair. I appreciate those things.
My best friend growing up, Dany, she did those things. She would tell me if I needed a mint or maybe wear a different sweater tomorrow, Mia.
And so I am known as an honest one. I remember going up to her, after a new haircut and telling her I didn't like it.
She got mad. Understandably so. It was a big difference, probably 10 inches off of her head. A woman's hair is her glory, don't you know? I could have handled it better.
But, we got through it. And many fights after that, many caused by this honesty.
However I can say that she is probably the only person on this earth I truly know. We have few secrets. Few judgements about each other.
And if I were to look back on this friendship, I would say that it is just this: honest.
Dany, I'm proud if you. Be honest. Don't lie. Be true to yourself and screw everyone else.

My Place

2013-11-18T19:26:00.003-08:00

{Not my photo, but please I need to visit Amsterdam again. via}

Whenever I look at past posts, or diaries, or "novels" I've written, I cringe.
Man.
I'm embarrassing. But there's something about seeing where you've came from. What heartbreak you've forgotten about, the ache long gone in your heart. But those scribbled faint lead on lined paper can bring it all back. The hurt! The drama! The betrayal!
It was all dramatic to me back then. I feel like my emotions were turned up to megawatts, and I (and my parents) were just trying to hold on for dear life.
I get embarrassed talking about myself. Not introduction stuff, no.
But when people ask me personal questions; faith, love, career, truth, I clam up.
I don't like sharing that, at least not verbally.
Writing just flows so much easier. I've journaled since I was a little girl, without even realizing I was journaling.
And I remember picking up a pen and starting again, writing down the little dramas of the day, and how immensely comforting that was.
Oh, the imaginary people I sent letters to. Oh, the real tears that soaked on those letters.
Being a teenager is hard. I couldn't even imagine what being a teenager is now. Texting, Facebook, Instagram. I remember the horror when one of your best friends would dock you down a spot on the "top friends" list on MySpace.
Anyway, I just wanted to say a quick hello.
Also, read this. It made my day.

In Which I Discuss My Life Some More

2013-11-07T16:33:00.000-08:00

There are things about me that I really don't like.
I wish I cared more.
About school, about my debt, about my life.
I wish I cared less about how I look.
I wish I cared less about impressing others.
I wish I cared more about my health, about healthy lungs and legs and brain.
I wish I cared more about being on time. On being less flaky.
I wish I cared more about love, about children.
I wish I cared less about how single I am.

I wish, I wish. If only there was a fairy wand.

How I Finally Succumbed to Telling You I've Started a Novel

2013-11-03T17:04:00.000-08:00

{via}

Since I have to keep writing in class, so it looks like I'm taking notes (sorry mom!), I'm going to keep writing posts.
I'm working on a novel. Loosely, slowly, sporadically. When I have an extra hour. When I'm bored in class. I'm not writing in order, or have an outline. I'm just getting to know her, my main character. This novel may never see the light. No one but myself may read it. But hey, Novelle, she's a cool chick. I'm happy to spend time with her. I just want to finish one. Just one. I've started hundreds. Actually, I have finished one. In 8th grade I spent two weeks spinning this complex web of a bunch of kids space traveling to Egypt in the future, involving mummies and sand and love lost. So, I've been writing dystopian novels since before they were "cool". Now every other novel published is a dystopian place. I better finish before it goes out of style. Thank god I don't have any supernatural novel ideas in my head, that ship has long sailed.
This is the first time I've publicly talked about it. Why now? Probably because I have a solid idea of where this is going. With the exception of a few half-finished outlines, this is the longest time I've spent with a novel. I wish I could tell you more, but frankly, I just don't want to. I don't want to jinx anything. I don't want to give anything away, since things can change.
But I wanted to tell you.
I've started.
Yippee!
PS the picture is a hint... Trains are big in this story.

Lost in Travels Pen Pal

2013-11-01T06:56:00.000-07:00

So I participated in Lost in Travels gift exchange.
Basically, you sign up. She pairs you with someone from across the country (or globe) and you get to know each other and send each other gifts, nothing fancy.
I was paired with Esther.
What a cool gal, seriously. She travels, is a photographer, lives in glamorous LA. Her hubby knows Ryan Higa (my high school friends would fan-girl, I like I did when I found out.), a famous youtuber. She's so nice, and I very much enjoyed getting to know her. Her music taste is awesome, and I convinced her to start watching Veronica Mars.
Check her out folks! http://www.estherandjacob.com/
Above picture is what she sent me. Those are passion fruit flavored Kit Kats!! Kit Kats people!!!
Anything candy is great with me.
Go show her some love!

So I Take Pictures Sometimes

2013-10-31T16:04:00.000-07:00

{baby boys of my friend, Crystal.}

So I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL PHOTOGRAPHER. Let's just get that out there. I firmly believe just because you know how to use photoshop and own a DSLR does not make you professional. It makes photography a powerful hobby. It gives you the ability to create something others enjoy. It gives me practice for the future. It lets me capture memories, moments, and friends.
So sometimes people pay me to take their pictures. Sometimes I say yes. Most of the time I say no. I am an amateur. I have no professional training. But I enjoy this. I enjoy being excited to do something that others love.
But most of all, I love film. I spend the most amount of money on film. On film cameras. On developing said film. But film is not profitable. You don't know if you "got the shot". Frankly, if you're an amateur (like me) you don't even know if you got it in focus. It's all touch and go.
BUT I feel like an artist when I use film. I don't know how it's going to turn out, but it may be something amazing. I need to scan some of my pictures so you can see. I'll do that soon.
I also want to make another note.
What creates an artist? When can I call myself one? When I finish my first novel (which by the way, I have 1/3 of my novel done. More on that later.)? When I win a poetry contest? When I get said novel published? When am I legit? When can I be recognized by others? Am I even good? Is my self doubt valid? Is my self- loathing for my lack of experience correct? Shall I compare myself to others my age, successful, again and again? Who has the right to tell me I, for lack of better words, suck?
Sometimes I wish my world was like a fictional world. I would be an assignment. "Age 15 English school teacher". And for the rest of my life I would teach that class. Year after year. Some direction. I wouldn't have to validate my existence for anyone.
So.... sorry that talking about photography turned into (another) life crisis post. Do you think I talk about it enough....?
Anyway. I take photos sometimes. The End.

My Mom Could Rule Russia

2013-10-31T15:39:00.002-07:00

If my mom was anyone in history, she would be Catherine the Great. The single most successful woman monarch in Russian history, she had the best foreign policy and captured the most land.
Basically, a badass.
She wasn't even Russian! Russian wasn't her first language. She had no real right to the throne, but she was a sneaky one and got it anyway. She supported education, orphanages, and westernizing Russia.
So basically, if my mom was a monarch, she would be Catherine the Great.
You the bomb, mom.
I believe in you. You are very important to me. You matter.

Little Clutch

2013-10-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

There's a little clutch in my heart. A little half-skip and a tiny squeeze.
That cold air that blew off of the cobblestone streets, right into my face. The canals winding (and clean) for the season, the "winter" that forced out fur coats and Prada gloves.
My first taste of Italy.
I don't miss the stress. The constant worry that I will run out of money, should I buy this gelato, or should I save? Should we spend the money on a taxi or walk 45 minutes?
But I miss the constant hunger in my gut. To talk to people, to walk, to see. To be chilly in my thin black coat, but not really feel the cold.
It's this time of year when I really miss my time in England. My time in Europe. My time with my friends. What a year, folks. What an un-deniable, indescribable year. It changed me in so much ways. It separates me from my peers in Duluth, though. I don't want a 9-5 job. I'm not stressing about that. I don't have a boyfriend, I don't see children in my heart shaped eyes. I can't see a two and a half bath and a Subaru car in my future, I just don't.
Lord, get me through these two semesters.
T-minus TWO months until Russia!
Oh, by the way. I'm going to Russia for 3 and a half weeks. Woo!

Little Things

2013-10-12T16:53:00.003-07:00

The little things
like an arm around your shoulder
or the sharp bite of a mosquito
the soft blanket on your lap
or the smile on my lips.
The large things
like graduating from high school
or cool shower in hot summer
friends getting married
and friends dying.
The good things and
the bad things
Fashion choices
Papers and tests
iPhones and TV's
Airports and train stations.
All those things are things
that I want to share with you.

русский

2013-09-25T09:16:00.004-07:00

Let's talk about it.
I'm a Russian minor. At times it feels more like I'm a Russian major, because Russian takes up so much more of my time than my Communications major.
Russian is hard for me. I'm a kinesthetic learner, so taking notes is crucial. Auditory is my secondary, so I can learn by just listening, but not as well. I need to listen AND take notes if I really want to retain.
That's what makes Russian so hard. It's so much listening, and not much writing, that really absorbing takes twice as long as others.
Oh well, I digress. I just have to try twice as hard to get at the same place as other students. And I'm okay with that because, hey. I love learning Russian.
Last night something clicked. And concepts I have been struggling with, FINALLY were making sense!
Anyway, I wanted to share some Russian music with y'all. I'm super into Russian music because it's so pretty!
Go! Go! Go!
If you want to study, these are great study mixes.
Get international, yo.

http://8tracks.com/vdrai/my-russian-dreams
http://t.co/vfldbZmKX3
http://t.co/dd32ntSkEF

Friends on Film

2013-09-23T20:43:00.001-07:00

Fresh faces. My friends. My film. Funny, forward, friendly.
I just want to say this: I don't let very many people in.
I'm not a nice person. This is the truth. I am crude, rude at times, and annoying to some. I can be shy, witty, sarcastic and bitchy. These people put up with me. And they deserve a medal for that.