A... Autumn!

Look! Look! I'm sticking to the plan! I am following something I would do! Guys, you have no idea how rare this is. I have been waiting a month now saying I am going to write my resume. Is it written? Not in the present time, no. So, to not ramble too much before I even begin...

Let's see what Google says:


Look guys, it's a really creepy looking pumpkin! I am honestly of the opinion it thinks human flesh is tasty and would love to fly from the screen and chomp on my face. 



Because we always think of adorable puppies that might be in the middle of a fight with leaves.




The cat woman in me approves.






I have been lucky enough to hike right by this during the Autumn. It is indeed this pretty.

Now, what do I have to say about Autumn?

Mwahahaha.

I don't hear the word "Autumn" and think of creepy pumpkins and kitties in leaves and crazy leaf necklaces about to kill an adorable puppy or ohmygoodness, that's a pretty view with leaves on fire. Nope. I tend to get that look on my face people get when they hear their name. Oh, right. I am hearing my name.

See, names were very important to my parents. Or my mom at least. I was never around for the hunt for the perfect name on my dad's behalf. Mom would throw names left and right until she found the perfect one. My one sister was due a week before Christmas, so she wanted something winter-y but not obnoxiously Christmas-y. Everyone else was given Biblical names. Heck, even winter-child sister got a name that appears in the Bible.

I'm the stand alone, non-Biblical name. I wasn't supposed to be born when I was. I was supposed to be a Summer Baby and my name would either be Sage (wise and a plant. My mom was a hippie) or Hunter (That would be me dad. ), depending on gender. Then I refused to come out of the womb for a couple of weeks and whoops! Autumn descended on the northern hemisphere and isn't Autumn such a pretty name anyway? So believe me, I've had plenty of time to think about the season I bear the name of.

By the way, dear parents, yeah, sure. Pretty name. Don't! Naming your child a season is a curse. Every time she meets someone she will hear the same old joke, over and over. She will want to kiss the wonderful person who doesn't make some supposedly clever quip about it. Also, when she is in primary school, every time her name is mentioned in something the teacher is reading, the rest of the class will giggle and make some comment.

look! There's a whole group of people agreeing with me!

Anyway. Back to Autumn and me not going on tangents.

Autumn is gorgeous in the area I live in. The sky seems bluer, the days are often the perfect temperature. The gradual change of the leaves covering the land is amazing. Nature is just screaming to be looked at and enjoyed. Take a hike up a mountain and by george, the view will be absolutely breathtaking.

We used to visit Vermont every autumn and stay in a house nestled into the crease of a mountain. We would hike up an old dirt trail with rocks to climb over and trees dangling their jewels. A little pond would reflect the colors of the sky and trees and birds would chirp their good-byes until they came back for spring. We would reach the top with the old cairn my great-grandfather built and two benches, one wooden, one stone, and find ourselves holding out breath so as not to disturb the beauty we were alive in. Looking down we saw fields with green green grass and one littered with specks of orange we might later raid. There was a sparkling sliver of blue cutting across a meadow. A brave tree reaching it's lonely arms, up, up to the sky, leaves skittering away every time a strong breeze blew. There was so much magic surrounding us as we finally breathed again and began darting between trees and laughing and giggling and teasing. My brother would pretend to conquer some age-old enemy hidden in the woods as I would search for hidden traces of fairy life. My parents would hold hands and smile at us, passing whomever was the baby at the time back and forth. To me, that is Autumn.

Autumn is also a season, not just memories. It's a season so alive in color, in nature's mimicry of flames, and so so beautiful. But it's a season tinged with sorrow. Yes, the sweeps of land are alive, but they won't be for long. I know I'm a pessimist, but let's face it, autumn is the season of dying. When I was little I saw winter as the season as death, but that's not really it. Everything is already dead or sleeping in winter. It's quiet and peace. White.

So it's autumn where everything dies. Slowly, then all at once it's all gone. The beauty doesn't completly disguise the coldness that's coming or the dreary, oft overcast skies. It's a farewell, beautifully done, but a farewell none the less.

Guys, this is another reason not to name your child Autumn. She will grow up with this sense of impending doom all her life and as if everything bad is her fault, because she's the season of dying, so of course things around her are going to die.

But, all in all, such a lovely time to wander through woods. I suggest it.

A Plan! ( I know, crazy!)

I now have regular access to computers and regularly have time to play on them and write weird or emotional (sometimes both - those are scary. People feel like pot roasts) things to my heart's content. Well, when I'm not distracted by Pinterest and Goodreads... Anyhoo. So that means, I get to actually keep this blog up. And, oh the excitement, I might actually have a graphic designer friend who will help me redesign it and make me want to read it (If I didn't know what tragedies of writing might await me, that is).

So, what does this have to do with A Plan you might ask? I'll tell you.

Well, okay. I'm not sure if this even counts as a plan because the idea of me planning something is crazy. I plan concerts and I plan... Um. I can't think of anything else. But,  but but but but buttttttttt - I have one! For my blog! Mwaha!

Going through the alphabet, letter by letter for direction for the subject (that sentence is awful, please throw bananas at that awful sentence as it sits on your screen). It's nothing fantastic, far from original, but I shall make it fun. I hope anyway... It's a possibility...

Here's a little gift, funions! (because this is just a happy thing. C'mon, you want to smile.)

Standing on the Edge

It's 2 a.m. and I can't sleep. It's September 23rd of 2013 and I'm falling to pieces and broken to bits by life. There's nothing else to it. It's painful, with these jagged edges and bruised soul, hurting and unable to stop hurting; for whenever I do, I accidentally bump into myself and tear open whatever was healing.

But I'm not sure I would change it. 

I have never had an aching in my chest for this long or felt like life is unbearable to this degree before. I have never taken such comfort in the beauty of the moonlight before or lay on the road and gotten lost in the stars like I have lately. Now, there's nothing more precious to me than the simple sound of nature or the scratching of pen against paper or having someone to lean into when goddammit I can barely stand.

I'm standing on the edge of myself
                                                   And it's beautiful.

There's something to be said for having oneself torn apart. All the words of truth and all the beauty scratched out, pulled apart and rewritten. When everything one held as true in this world falls apart and melts in one's hands, whatever is left is so achingly beautiful in it's endurance that at times it takes one's breath away.

"It's when you're breaking down with your insides coming out
                                             That's when you find what your heart is made of..." ~Switchfoot

Somehow, despite everything, I am holding parts of myself I would have never thought still existed, or ever would. The parts of me I fought hard for, loving beyond measure and hoping when there is nothing to hope for and a faith that might not move mountains, but can withstand any disaster thrown at it, are still standing, rising up from the ruins of who I was. Amongst the rubble and ashes, those seeds have begun to push their way up.

One thing I always desired, cried over when the moon hit just right and all the magic that could be brushed up against my soul, was to have an epic story. I wanted to be a queen who fought for her people and ruled with justice and mercy, her reign benefiting the peasant and the lord. Screw math problems; I wanted to be out slaying evil monsters and saving those who couldn't save themselves. I wanted to be hated because of what a threat I was to everything evil and wicked in this world.

If I had never been broken, I would have never come to realize that I have a story like that waiting for me to write it, with myself as the protagonist. I may not ever get the righteous king to stand beside me and love me for the same reasons I love him. I may not ever get the chance to swing a sword and watch something of pure evil topple, but I can go out and live like I am the leader of a country, with a nation of people to guide and protect. I may never be able to travel the world and traverse mountains, but there's plenty where I am now to explore and discover, I just have to learn to open my eyes.

I may never be able to wield magic or dance with Fae or speak with trees, but I have the ability to write, to create stories and possibly transport someone to a place where they can live, if only for a little bit, and that's the best magic of all.

All I needed to see the sun rising within me, daring me to shine with whatever I can, was to stand on the edge of me and chance a fall.

Perk-Ups

Life can suck. I mean full-on holy whoa Where is my door to Narnia because then it isn't my world falling apart and at least there's some hope?! I've had some sucky, and not so sucky, days lately. Sometimes I just lay on my bed staring at my ceiling. But other times I found my way to A-Ok through some possibly weird ways that worked. Here's some you might want to try if Life is bombarding you with cows.

1. Sit there and listen to hilarious breakup songs. I don't care if you weren't broken up with, have never been broken up with, are actually happily in love. Remember the hilarious part, otherwise you might sit there getting even more upset. No listening to "I miss you so so much. You were the one for me! I just want you back!" No. Not even if you just went through that. No. 

Here's some examples:

50 Ways to Say Goodbye 
Smile - Lily Allen

Not much, I know, but I couldn't remember the ones I listened to... Also, angry break up songs (Taylor Swift has two great ones by the way).

2. Watch Rhett and Link videos
 
This also works really well with a friend. Laughter will come no matter what, but with a friend it's just great. We winded up taking dibs on them only to notice wedding rings on their fingers. *GASP*. Our hearts were broken. But they fixed them by making us laugh.

If you're making the same face as Link, I'm with you

3. Lie on the floor.

No matter where you are. No matter what people may say. Just drop to the floor and lie there. This works especially well in bookstores.

I got this tip from one of my preschoolers. Whenever she doesn't want to do something and it becomes to unbearable, she doesn't throw a fit or scream or anything. She just *whomp* sprawls out on the floor and lays there. She doesn't get up unless she begins smiling right away.

(Okay. I actually had done that on a Barnes and Noble floor the day before I started up at work again. So the tip isn't from her, but I do completely agree with her methods. But shhhh. Don't tell the other T.A.s)

4. Roll around on your kitchen floor moaning about the most ridiculous things (unless your bad day is due to NOT having a kitchen floor). So nothing that's really the problem. If you are so busy and stresses about everything, I promise you, this will work. Once you get over any rolling on kitchen floor issues you have.

5. Talk to preschoolers.

Preferably ones you don't live with, as they can also be really cruel.

I was really tired and getting grumpy when I overheard a conversation between two girls in my class.

G1: I have to show you a picture. *shows last year's class picture* That's him.
G2: You loved him?
G1: Yeah. I have two husbands. I love them both. They are both named ___.
G2: *eyes widen*
G1: Two husbands with the same name! What is wrong with me? I need to fix my life!

Okay, so I am old enough to be your (young) mom, but I am not married to two guys with the same name (although that solves the accidentally saying the wrong name issue. She's smarter then we all think). So thus, it's all good. Also, I like the ABC cookies, so no throwing fits over having to eat something I don't like.

6.  Make faces at random strangers to see their reactions.

This should be self-explainable.

7. Watch old Disney shows. It's good to remember those good days of Disney Channel. There truly is something about Disney.

8. Watch Disney movies and sing the songs at the top of your lungs. Or just listen to the songs. My adopted little sister (who isn't really adopted. She still belongs to her birth mother. As far as I know anyway...) taught me this.

9. Watch Hercules and yell at the awful mythology.

(for starters, it should be Heracles. Yeahhh...)

10. Don't read my blog. It is so awful you'll just get more depressed. In fact you are probably crying right now.

A hamster chewing on your bad day

Writerly Misery

I was thinking about relationships in books. Books nowadays don't like to focus on friendships. They don't really focus on family. They focus on some person to fall in love with. I kinda want to kick them all. I want the rawness of friendship. I want the issues families bring and some healing.

Then I thought further about the dumb relationship thing. Girls find themselves in guys. It's ridiculous. I want a book about a break up and a girl finding herself without the guy. The only book I can think of with a break-up would be Twilight. I don't think that counts as what I want...



So that doesn't leave me with much.

Guess what I do when something like that happens.

I WILL WRITE IT!!! I declare as I jump up and throw a fist up in the air.

Then I sit and go "What have I done??" Because do I really want to think about another writing project right now? Yes, no, maybe? I already have so many wonderful characters. They already have me sitting there weeping over the keyboard because holy owls, their stories are so awful. Do I really want to do this to myself?

Yes, Yes I do.

I don't really want the heartache and heart break of yet another character sweeping over me and drowning me, but to be able to craft a story that might touch someone's heart and give them what they are looking for, I will put myself through writerly misery. There's something wonderful about knowing I can tell stories and have characters I care about. I have others who care about them, too. If I can talk about them and have people's emotions involved, I can write about them, surely.

I will also put myself through weird looks from people as I cry over a breakup that's not my own. And as I flap around in public making sad noises because I just realized even more tragedy. And as I begin swimming in different ways to figure out how they sing. And when I say "I like your shirt. One of my characters has something like it."

exactly

If I Were a Boy

Original Plan: Make a list of ridiculous things I would have done if my father had bothered to give me the Y chromosome (instead, his stupid sperm was a stupid X. And why do I know genetics??).

What happened: Went on Facebook, saw something entitled "44 Reasons Why You're Chandler Bing" (http://www.buzzfeed.com/fivezaj/44-reasons-why-youre-chandler-bing-a8zp). Sat there reading them  going, yeah. I am Chandler Bing. Minus the bubble bath thing. I hate baths. Especially one with bubbles. I'd probably sit there looking like a cat with a shoe string.

I then decided that if I were a boy, I would be Chandler.

 

Final Plan: Tell what happened when I went to blog, then give ridiculous list anyway.

The List:

1. I would pee off mountains.

    Let's face it, as a female hiking can suck. Sure, the rocks are awesome to scramble over and the view is gorgeous and hiking can be the best place for inspiration, but when something tickles the bladder, I'm dancing around trying my best to hold it in for the next six hours. Peeing ain't fun. It's annoying and obnoxious Then, to make it worse, those guys I went with go prancing up the mountain, tell me to wait, and then scream to the land as they happily pee off the mountainside. Just because they can. Meanwhile I'm still dancing around secretly looking for a huge tree and wishing I had that freedom. So, yes, male me would be peeing off mountains all the freaking time.

Then there are goats. Who pee on mountains whenever in the heck they feel like it.

2. I would drive naked.
   
    Apparently a friend of mine did this. And because he was a guy, he got away with it. I am female. I have these ridiculous things called breasts. They make it completely inappropriate to drive without anything on top at all. Unless I'm in France. And, frankly, I don't really want to be entirely topless. But if I were a guy, I could drive around without a top and be comfortable doing so. And pray to God I didn't get into an accident where the police people showed up and I had to explain why the ambulance people pulled me out of the car in the nude.

3. I would have a hot girlfriend (read explanation please)

     I was lying on my friends' floor staring up at my legs when I announced that I want to be a guy so I can stroke my girlfriend's legs and they will be amazingly smooth and soft because she shaves, unlike my sometimes hairy self. Then my friend turned around and looked at me thoughtfully. Then said, as if it were a great epiphany that explained the world, "if you were a guy, your girlfriend would be HOT".
   
4. I would be an amazing boyfriend.
    My mom told me this. After I told her how if she weren't my mother I would slow dance with her at a Lumineers' concert then go on a moonlit walk by the river, followed by a mini-picnic.
   Either that or I'd make a pretty remember-able one-night stand (or whatever the asexual version of that is called).

5. I would wear my pants NOT saggy.

6. I would wear NOT SKINTIGHT pants.

Technically these fit 5. and 6. But um...

7. No parachute pants either

8. I would secretly cry during tear-jerkers
    Because as a guy, I would somehow be more sensitive than I am now.

9. I would have a beard. And a unibrow. Preferably those crazy wizard ones.

Like this.

   
10. And a mustache.

like this

11. I would go through the sci-fi section in Barnes and Noble and not get weird looks from employees.
   
    I guess females aren't allowed there or something? Unless they are gushing to their husbands about the book on smoothies they just found for half-off and OHMYWORD THERE IS KALE!!

12. Most importantly: I would hit on girls with ridiculous pick-up lines just for fun. Not to actually pick them up or anything, just to be awkward and say I did.

 

But I am a girl. And that's pretty cool too.


And that's a wrap!

When Bookstores Lost Their Souls

Once Upon a Time, possibly in a land far far away for some of you, there lived a girl. Or maybe not a girl. She was at that odd age of 18 where nothing makes any sense and everyone is a conglomerate of everything. Especially her. So this person inhabiting Earth... She loved to read. It was the one thing she never truly tired of. Reading was the only thing she could be addicted to. Her money was squandered on books. She invested much too much time into it, ignoring family, friends, and a dedicated (and soon well-trained) boyfriend-person. Once she possessed a license (issued to her, of course), she would drive herself over to a bookstore after a particularly hard week/day/hour and be able to breathe for a change. Never did she tire of wandering through aisle upon aisle of books.

Then one day, the impossible happened.

Down an aisle she went, her eyes merely skipping from title to title. What used to be a journey of an hour was over in minutes. On to the next aisle she went, each shelf brimming with unread, possible untouched paper and beautiful covers. Again, her feet found their way out of the shelves much too quickly. Frustrated, she hurried over to the other end of the store. Perhaps there lay titles and books and stories to calm the growing sense of dread in her stomach.

Her unease grew and grew as she traversed aisle after aisle, section after section, until she stood in center of the store, feeling like a belly button. Useless and unloved. Once she had had a purpose, but no more. Maybe she was more of an appendix than a belly button. Defeated and feeling hopelessly dejected, the person inhabiting Earth fled the building to hide from the emptiness in her car.

How, how had this happened? Where did all the books of interest go? She didn't want vampires. She didn't want sex and passion. She didn't want to merely dip her toes into a story. She wanted to be immersed in one; up to her head in the words and characters and worlds until nothing could take her away from the space between the letters. Why did that space disappear?

But it had. She felt it. As she roamed the aisle, she could feel the lack of soul in the books surrounding her.

The fantasy had dwindled in size. Those, the heart and soul of so many magic seekers, had kept her alive during middle school. She needed them now as everyone told her grown-ups don't believe in fairy tales. But those were gone. As were the books about friendship. Stories she could grasp in her fingers and watch bloom like morning glories. Even Tolkien's section was small. A collection of his trilogy. No Children of Hurin, no Silmarillion. Just space mourning it's true purpose. Lewis was completely absent from the shelves.

There was nothing left for her in bookstores anymore. Nothing to capture her desires and whisk her away from this reality of hers.

This person inhabiting Earth felt as if someone had reached a clawed hand into her chest and ripped her heart out. What would life be without this sacred place of hers?

She wanted to give up. To curl up in a ball and cry over pages of Narnia, wishing even more vehemently than before, for some of that wonderful tree to have been used in the making of her closet. To stare desolately at the night sky and beg any entity who would listen to change this tragedy.

But she didn't lose hope. Surely, there were other girls like her out there. Boys, too. Both young and young at heart. She couldn't be the only one in this world with a desire for more than the potato chips being offered by authors. Someone else had to be wondering what happened to creating five-course meals with depth and richness.

So she drove home, her chin raised in defiance and her eyes set. Once home she knelt before her bookshelf, tugged a notebook from where it was nestled, and opened it. The blank pages became her hope. Between the lines of faded blue a story could be written, one about friendship and loyalty and the questions everyone must face at some point. Or maybe even one just for laughs, with real people who don't just fall in love but are pure human.

And so, she began to pour her soul onto paper hoping one day to bring bookstores back their souls.