BEDJ #11 | Update.

So, the plan for today was originally a review. A review for Gayle Forman's new book,  'I Was Here.' But I've been working a lot more than I'd anticipated, and when I haven't been working, I've been stressing about finding a place to live, and filling out rental application form after rental application form, and when I haven't been stressing, I've been sleeping. So, my time to write and schedule posts has been zero. Nil. Nada.

Instead, you're going to have to get by with a simple, 'hi-de-ho update post.' I hope that doesn't bore you too much.

My life for the past week and a half has consisted of moving from roommate to roommate (because apparently nobody wants to live with me ever), and then, when that miracle finally occurred, trying to find the perfect place to live. Which is difficult. Much more difficult than I'd assumed. It's especially difficult when your to-be-roommate is living in another city and not able to come to inspections with you.

I didn't realise any of this. Perhaps I've been naive towards it all, but I thought the process was pretty clear cut. In case you're a first time renter: It is not clear cut.

I mean, the week in general has just been pretty shit.

I hope everyone in France is keeping safe. It sucks so much that you guys had this happen to you. Australia is giving you all our love. We understand what you're going through. It's still pretty fresh in our minds. The shock doesn't go away overnight.

I'm sorry. This blog has turned into a rant and, when not angry, it is unacceptably sad. Let's talk about other things, like daisies and rain and the possibility of a new tomorrow.

Who am I kidding? I don't really have time to.

I hope you lovely people are enjoying my blogging everyday so far - what have you been your favourite posts?

Hopefully my posts will return to their usual selves tomorrow.

BEDJ #10 | Playlist / Insight Into the WIP.

I'll be real with you - not all of these have necessarily lyrical meaning towards the story. Some just have the right tone that helps me get in the right frame of mind to write from the main character's perspective (because *spoiler alert* she's very different to me).

Also, I've only highlighted like 13 songs in a 50+ song playlist. The YouTube video playlist I've included has all of the songs on there though. Also, there is no specific order to these songs, so don't you go trying to figure out what my story is about.

Ballad of a Politician / Regina Spektor

Elegy for Dunkirk / Dario Marianelli

Everybody Wants to Rule the World / Lorde

Heart Attack / Demi Lovato

I Know Places / Taylor Swift

Power and Control / Marina and the Diamonds

These Streets / Bastille

You Need Me, I Don't Need You / Ed Sheeran

Glory & Gore / Lorde

Arsonist's Lullaby / Hozier

Nero / Two Steps From Hell

El Tango De Roxanne / Moulin Rouge Soundtrack

Start of Time / Gabrielle Aplin

Dreams / Gabrielle Aplin and Bastille (cover)

Guess Who's Blogging Everyday in November?

Meeeee. In conjunction with the whole 'I'm-going-to-do-NaNoWriMo-challenge-and-win' mindset I've given myself, I decided to up the challenge. I'm going to blog everyday this month.

Is this going to work? Probably not.

Am I going to give it a cracker of a shot anyway? Yes.

I have scheduled the whole month out, and I think it's doable. Hopefully. I'm just going to have to learn to juggle this and NaNoWriMo and an assignment and study for this first week. Then I'll be as free as a butterfly.

Speaking of NaNoWriMo, you'll see updates here. I'm thinking right now I'll stick to one update blog every ten days. That way it's not overkill, but the progress won't seem crazy huge. Obviously there'll be other posts, but let's keep them as a surprise (also, there isn't really any sort of rhyme or reason to it, so it's better if I just don't try and justify it).

How about I give you a few stats now, on Day 1? I have written 3,543 words so far. Pretty happy with that. Hopefully the overachieving streak will continue.

I am trying to write a fantasy. Minor problem: I have nothing planned out at all. Hopefully I won't get too lost in the middle. Let's see how we go, shall we?

So, this is blog post #1. I apologise in advance if you hate me by the end of the month.

The Future.

Today, I've got to start packing. That's kind of what my life is nowadays. Moving back and forth between uni and home. Uni ending, so I get a month off to go home. I get settled. Do things. Don't really want to leave. The thing about holidays is that they always eventually end. Unfortunately, my mid-year break is about to end. I wouldn't be complaining about this if I felt like I'd done more. I had a whole six weeks off, and it feels like I did next to nothing. I mean, I know I re-did my room, but I had so many more plans.

I wanted to start working on a novel. I wanted to finish editing my friend's manuscript. I wanted to try to do some more driving lessons.

Instead, it seems like I can't even finish a short story.

I don't know. This happens every time, doesn't it? It's not even like I don't want to go back to uni - I do. I miss my friends, and I miss living in a city that's bigger. But it's like, no matter where I go, I'm going to miss someone.

That's the realities of growing up, I guess.

I always laughed when I was younger at people who were terrified of getting older. Ironically, I think  I've become one of them. I think it's because there's no stability or security in the future anymore. Again, sort of funny given how much I like to embrace change.

The difference, I think, is that when I embrace change, I know what's coming. There's no guarantee for the future. Things just aren't going to be as simple.

I realise that this post makes me sound incredibly sad. I'm not. There are some things I'd like to change, but I am happy. It's just like Emily said, I guess. I'm feeling nostalgic for now.

(I wrote this last week, but scheduled it for this week. Sorry if that's a little confusing)

What Do You Do When Your Writing Gets Stuck?

This post is for all the writer-folk out there. I'm sure there's a few. I mean, I'm pretty sure there is. If not, then this is only mildly awkward. Moving on!

I'm a writer too (or at least, I try to be). I study writing at uni. I have a list of stories I need to get around to writing. I read too much. I'm going to stop talking about it now, because I think you've got the idea. The thing is, is that I have a real problem actually writing them. The stories, I mean. And I don't know why.

It feels like I've tried everything. Vague outlines, chapter-by-chapter outlines, no outlines. They all work for a little while, but at one point or another I will get stuck in a hole and I will not be able to do a single thing about it.

Sometimes I think it's my mindset. But it's not like I expect myself to fail. I always have an unrelenting optimism at the start. I think I'll finish it, but I never do. I used to get stuck a 1,000 words. Then, it was 5,000. And now? Now, I get stuck somewhere between 10,000 to 20,000 words. Every. Single. Time. I don't understand.

I know a lot of authors suggest to just write. You shouldn't care if it makes no sense. It's only a first draft, and you can always fix things up later. I've tried that and sometimes it works. But then my perfectionist tendencies tingle and I have to take a look back.

I've also heard music really helps. But I'm funny when I write. I can only deal with certain types of music. Maybe some instrumental? Some quiet folk music? It's endlessly frustrating.

In fact, this who saga is endlessly frustrating. I have all this pent up writing energy but when it comes to actually write? I hit a blank. I don't know whether it is too many ideas swirling around my head. Or if it is actually my perfectionism. I just get stuck.

Writing is hard stuff. Figuring out how to focus your energy on writing for long enough is hard. Telling myself that things don't happen overnight - that writing takes time, is hard. I'm still trying to sort that out, but it's just so ugh.

So, my question for fellow writer-folk is this: Has this ever happened to you? How did you deal with it?

And, on a slightly different note: What are some of your favourite 'How to Write' writing books? I've been on a bit of a kick wanting to read them.

Dear Diary: A How-To.

So, recently Rosianna (or missxrojas on YouTube) posted a video on how to diary (click the linkity link here if you'd like to watch it. It's pretty A+). As someone who keeps a diary as well, I thought I could try and add to the conversation.

I've always been one of those people who gets a lot of stationary and notebooks for gifts. I mean, I've never had an issue with it. But it's something I've always been given. Or bought for myself. It took me a long while before I ever managed to complete one though.

Why? Because for the longest time, I thought that a diary had to be exactly that. Only a diary. A place where every other entry was 'Dear Diary, Today I...' Sometime in 2010, I think, this idea I'd grasped onto had changed.

For me, more than anything, a diary is a place to express yourself. Through any medium, not just the sub-standard written response. I think the saying goes that your room is your sanctuary. My room is my sanctuary for my calm and my books and my quiet contentedness . My diaries are my inner-sanctuaries for thought, for de-stressing, for expression.

The moment I decided that a diary didn't have to be limited to the typical response, was the moment I was able to complete a full notebook.

Initially, I kept to writing. Every now and again, there was a proper 'Dear Diary' entry, but there was also to-do lists and plans for (what was then) big school choices. I kept lists of books I wanted to read. I scribbled quite a bit. I made pages and pages of some of my favourite quotes. I even started writing a few stories. I didn't finish any though, unsurprisingly.

As my journalling has evolved, so has the aesthetic of them. More recently, I've started glueing in scraps of paper with ideas on them. Cool photos I've seen from magazines. Things that'll help me health wise (I'm looking at you, poor posture). Writing down chords for piano.

And because my diaries are filled with so many different things, the entries themselves seem sporadic. I don't like people flipping open my notebooks and reading them, but they can if they want. More often then not, they open to a page of a writing exercise, or planning. A lot of the time, they don't even realise.

I'm a litte different to Rosianna, in that when I do write a diary entry, there's not a whole lot to indicate I have. I do write the date down. I do not, however, write the day, or what time. This might sound a little obnoxious, but when I read the first sentence, I tend to remember exactly where I was in that point of my life.

I might do it on purpose; I might do it so people who decide to read them are confused. (Note: when people realise that they're reading my journal, they usually stop right away. It doesn't happen often). I mean, it would make sense. I am a private person. If I want to let my feelings be known, I will. But usually I won't. (Unless it's something I'm wildly passionate about. i.e. my intense dislike for Tony Abbott, feminism, etc. etc.)

So, I think my final piece of advice is this: your diary can be what you want it to. Don't feel limited by writing about your day. Write about an incident you witnessed and how it sparked inner-reflection. Rant. Write about how much you miss someone, or how you didn't expect to be so heartbroken over a tiny thing. Write song lyrics. Draw for no reason other than you want to. It's your inner-sanctuary, and ultimately, you're the one who's going to remember everything.

A Movie Romance

So I was in bed last night thinking about Klaus and Caroline from The Vampire Diaries, because honestly I'm just getting very little satisfaction over their romance (just kiss already!), when something ticked in my brain and I was all like 'romance.'

Now, I know you may lay blame to my being seventeen years old and perhaps a little hormonal and naive with *real life*, but it just made me think that everyone should want a movie romance. That sounds really stupid but just give me a few minutes to explain.

I'm not saying that I want a really predictable and obvious happily ever after. What I'm saying is that I want a relationship that's like in the movies. One that has its ups and downs, but ultimately pulls through. Perhaps, I'm just a little romantic but I feel like people do not stay together these days, and that makes me really sad.

And I don't think I'm alone in this - I think everyone secretly wants that movie or novel romance and I think people might feel a little ashamed because 'oh, what a cliche thing to want in life.' But I disagree. I think wanting a love that's passionate and fun and spontaneous and free is something everybody should want. Maybe need is the better word. The simple reason being that someone will always be there.

Humans don't like being alone. Sure, the introverts in the world (myself included) like their alone time, but being truly alone, without anyone to talk to is not on a list of priorities for most people.

And that's what these movies depict - a romance that will stay together, pull through, be together no matter what. It's depicting the ultimate form of security for people who feel alone in some way.

Sure, the movies may be a little cheesy, but don't we all need that little bit of cheese in our life?

---

(and yes, before you ask, this literally came from my thinking about Klaus and Caroline on the Vampire Diaries. I cannot help it that my mind wanders when I'm in that sleeping-but-not-really-sleeping time. It just does. And it disrupts my sleeping quite often. To say it's frustrating is not the end of it.)
EDIT: I wrote this before Klaroline actually kissed and then they did kiss (sort-of) in the finale so it seems a little redundant but I'm not going to change words because no.

A Letter

Hello Dearest,

How are you on this fine morning? I'm just sitting here, testing out my handwriting and seeing whether or not it really is neat. You may think it is, but don't be fooled by the pretty cursive; it might get you stuck in some sticky situations.

You must look behind the facade to see what's really there and only then decide whether the person is truly what they seem.

Anywho, I hope you're having a splendid time reading this, but do soon get back to your leisurely activities.

Lots of love,
      Jocie.


--------------------
I was flipping through one of my notebooks and I found this. I don't remember when I wrote it or anything like that but it seemed a little odd, so I thought 'why not put it on my blog?'

NaNoWriMo

Is a thing I'm doing. This'll be the second year. The first year I did this little project was in 2010, and I didn't win. I think I got to about 20,000 words then stopped? There were a plethora of reasons with the main one being that the timing was completely terrible. It fell just as I had assignments and exams due.

This year however, I am determined to win. Right now, at this moment, I've written approximately 9,250 words, and I plan on getting to maybe 12,000 today. It's going to be great fun. This year has been a lot different for me in that I've just gone about the whole project completely differently. In 2010, with it being my first year, I had no clue what I was doing; I didn't know where my story was going to go, how it would shape, how to be organised and everything like that. I had a lot of moments where I had writing blocks and just couldn't do anything.

This year has been holistically a completely different experience. I've been a lot more organised, and my knowledge of the direction the story has been taken has really, really helped. I've been doing chapter outlines and everything's working! I haven't had one moment of writing block, and it's absolutely fabulous.

The style and genre of this story is way different in general. I mean, generally the stories I think up are of a fantasy, dystopia, sci-fi vein, but this isn't. It's a fun (and a little bit ridiculous) contemporary love story. Likewise, I usually do first person. This year, I'm writing third.

So, what's my story about you ask? (You probably aren't asking, but it's my blog, so shhh).
The synopsis I created for NaNoWriMo is this:

When Adam Gormley and Dorothy "Dot" Lucas first kissed each other, they didn't think about the consequences. Primarily because they thought they would be too dead to think about it afterwards. But they aren't, and the thieving community now think that the Rogue Shadow (Adam) and the Fox (Dot) are working together to pursue the biggest robbery of the century. And to top it all, they don't know a thing about each other and are now forced to pull it all off before somebody else does. Oops.

So I don't know if that excited you at all, but it's there. And while I'm at it, why don't I just show you the excerpt I've added for NaNoWriMo (it's rather large, so you can skip it if you'd like):

" At first she’d thought her phone ringing was just her alarm; after all, they were the same tone. She’d been annoyed that it’d be another day where she’d be exhausted and not pay 100% attention to her classes. But the vintage style telephone ringing kept on going, even after she put it to sleep. It was definitely an insistent caller. 

Dot launched her hand full throttle towards the phone and groggily sat up in her bed. “Hello?” She grumbled, “Hello, Dorothy ‘Dot’ Anne Lucas, also known as Lady Fox,” someone responded (in a particularly too chipper tone for three in the morning). Dot groaned and made no qualms about him hearing it. How on earth did he find her phone number? “Well, Miss Lucas, you should really be more careful with your belongings. It doesn’t take much for someone to stalk you.” She hadn’t realised she’d spoken the question aloud. Damn him. Instead of telling him this, she just mumbled, “What?” “You left your leather gloves back at the café. I just happened to see them and save them for you. They’re of such good quality, it would be terrible to lose them.” Oh, so that’s where they had run off. Dot had just thought she’d left them at school or somewhere in the apartment. “Why are you calling me?” She asks, stifling a yawn, “What? You aren’t going to ask me how I found your number or compliment me on my efficient detective skills?” “No. It’s three in the morning, and I was asleep. I’m not going to compliment you for waking me up.” “Oh,” Adam sounded disappointed. Well boo hoo to him, Dot thought. This didn’t swerve him too much, of course, because less than a second later, he was speaking again, “Guess what? Guess what I heard earlier tonight?” “Do I really have to?” “Well, no. Not if you don’t want to. But guess, please guess,” “No,” “Oh, come on. It isn’t that hard,” “Are you drunk?” “What? No. Please just come meet me, I know a great 24/7 café.” “I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to meet someone who I barely know at three in the morning.” “Come on, please.” He was starting to plead. “Can’t you just tell me via this conversation?” “Well, yea. But that’ll ruin everything!” “I can honestly tell you that I really do not care.” “Fine then. There’s a rumour going around town about us partnering up.” Dot snorts. Her partnering up with someone? Maybe in their wildest dreams. “No, Dot, listen.” “Don’t call me Dot,” she said suddenly, “What?” He seems confused, “Don’t call me Dot. Only friends call me Dot. You are not a friend.” There was an awkward silence. Adam clearly didn’t know where to go with this. After a brief interlude of silence, he decided to power on. “But get this, right? We’re supposed to be partnering up together to-“ “You’ve already said that,” Dot interrupts. Adam continues as if he didn’t hear her,“But we’re partnering up to steal the masterpieces of the TATE Modern.” There was silence. No, wait, there was silence on Dot’s end of the phone. She could practically hear the orchestral music on his side as if she were at the theatre hearing them live. “I’m not going to do that,” she says. “Please, Dot,” Adam stops to correct himself, “Dorothy, Lady Fox, I don’t know. Can we please talk about it? Come to this café at –“ Dot interrupts him again, “No, Adam. It’s three in the morning. I have more important things in to do in a few hours,” “Like what?” “Like fricking school! Haven’t you ever heard of it?” “I’m nineteen.” Before Adam could get another word out, Dot hung up on him and huddled back into bed. She slept soundly for the rest of the night"

So, yay for that! I guess I should probably link you to my account if you wanna be writing buddies. Here it is! So, yea.

On a side-note, I have two exams left and then I'll graduate. Scaryyyy. Mixed feelings all around, people. On another side-note, who's doing NaNoWriMo? What's your story about? Are you having fun?

Words written this month: 9,242
Currently Reading: 'The Mark of Athena' & 'The Paris Wife'
p.s. Sorry about the link of correct grammar in regards to when they're speaking. Blogger did something funky and when I go to change it and put it correctly, it just freaks out.

Plans

You know when you have that urge to right about something, but you have no clue what? Yea, well that's me at the moment.

*five minutes later and various tumblr-ing*

I know! I'll talk about my plans for this blog. This may be boring, but it's going to happen. Deal with it.

Because I am an organised freak, I have actually made a list of things I can discuss on this blog and what I want this blog to become. I want this blog to become another branch of the whatever that is me. So, yes, that entails a lot of general updates and things that you may find boring.

But I think it'll also entail fashion things and music things. I'm not going to stop at that, though. Ohhh, no. I think there will be stuff about travel (which I am about to do a lot of, so BE PREPARED *cue hyenas from Lion King*), and book vs. film reviews (I'm still a bit iffy about this, so I don't know) and just general thoughts (and maybe photographs and stuff. Things are still reeling in my mind).

This blog is going to be a branching out of myself. If you think in terms of a tree analogy, the actually physical me is the roots (I can't figure out whether I say 'is the roots' or 'are the roots' because there's only one of me but there isn't ever just one root). My branches are platforms of social media, i.e. this blog, tumblr, twitter, and youtube. I haven't thought far ahead enough to decide what the leaves are. Unless it's just like, a dead tree or something. I mean, Autumn and Winter are my favourite seasons. It could work.

I'm hoping to post every two or three weeks and I think I use the tree analogy a teensy bit too often. Oh well. You'll see this face soon. Toodoloo!

And, no, I'm not doing NaNoWriMo. I'm a teensy bit busy at the moment with travel and, you know, GRADUATING

EDIT:  I take back my words. I am doing it now. Here is me

Everybody is a Universe

Ang Lee once said, "Everybody is a universe."

And it's true.

We are all large pieces of matter. Matter because that's what we're made of, but also because we matter to others. The planets are things that characterise us.

Religion, hobbies, politics, favourites.

The sun or star is our soul - the thing that burns brightest. Asteroids or rings of Saturn are our relationships with others. Pieces of rock circling around something bigger - a planet.

We're universes because we're far away, yet a million times closer to each other.

Some of our planets might be toxic, deadly, but they might also be habitable and pure.

When one Milky Way is shaken up, another is bound to follow. As if in domino effect.

We feel together

We mourn when we lose a fellow universe

We laugh when one universe makes a joke

We interact and feel the non-existence when a universe is gone. We feel the absence of a fellow sun.

We triumph

We lose

We dance

We sing

Ang Lee once said "Everybody is a universe".

We all are.

This was originally going to be a video, 

but I felt more comfortable just writing it down

R.I.P Celeste. You will be missed..

Weird Alternate History sort of Dream.

READERS:  What is this blasphemy? A new blog only days after the other one?!
ME: Yes, dear viewers. I had an odd dream last night and I want to tell you it because every time I look over at the wardrobe, it reminds me of the dream.

p.s. If this becomes a little creative write-y, sorry. Sometimes that happens.

~~~~~~

It's dark. Very, very dark. I realise I'm in a castle of grey. Grey stone, grey walls, grey sky. I'm walking down a halfway, with only torches illuminating it. I seem to be in a hurry. As I walk briskly, my hands pass my leg and I feel a svelte material. It's a long dress. It's burgundy and fits in just the right ways. My shoes are clacking against the grey tile. I must be quite late. I don't even stop to pause at the portraits.

Suddenly a figure turns into the hallway. I see straight away it's Nic. He's wearing a bow tie and penguin suit.

"They're here," he whispers, "You're late. Dad's getting anxious."

I nod and walk faster. Once we join up at the end of the hallway, my brother slips my elbow into his.

"They aren't too annoyed, are they?" I whisper back,

"No, but they're getting restless and that always puts Dad on edge."

       We come to the double doors. Unsurprisingly, they open without a word. The normal slight creak is still there. The creak is the magic.

I plaster a smile on my face. These guests can be quite temperamental. The doors have opened into a large, well lit room. I wouldn't have recognised it had I not been used to the sudden changes. Every single candle has been lit on the chandelier. Dad must be nervous. His face brightens as I look at him. The tense atmosphere evaporates like smell to a flame.

       "Alas, Miss Jocelyn, you've arrived!" The group leader, Marcos arose to the right of Dad. I look at him. His lips were painted against his skin, so unnatural a colour they were. 

"Sorry, I just had a mess I had to deal with." I hide my grimace behind my eyes. He never looks at my eyes, he can't tell.

"Yes, well of course."

He sits back down. I float towards father's left. I here a clearing of the throat. It's Marcos.

"So, Scott. Tell me, what's on the dinner board tonight?"

      Dad's eyes are skittering around the table.

"Raw meat for you, Marcos. As always." I tell him.

"Ah, you always know what's on our mind."

Blood. Blood is what's on his mind. It's always on his mind. I hated that he kept coming around here. Why couldn't he go back to his state or country or whatever the hell it was? I swallow, and look back up.

"One moment, Marcos, I just need to get it for you."

"Of course."

             I go to put my hand on my back, and lay it flat across the broadness. I felt so bare and vulnerable. I pressed it against my skin. A tingle went through me like a spider crawling along my spine. For a moment, nothing happened and I hesitated. Then, the food came walking towards us on platters. Marcos and his friends began tittering and clapping away.

The second the food is lain on the table, they all rip through the meat. Their incisors appear the second their lips touch it. The next thing I know, the meat is a lifeless doll. It's grey now, like everything else in the castle. 

"Why Miss Jocelyn, you haven't even touched your food!" Marcos exclaims in mock outrage,

"I'm afraid, Marcos that my speed is no match for yours." I smile wryly, hiding the bitterness behind my teeth. His smile is sweetly vicious. Never trust it.

After all the 'pleasantries' of dinner, father stalks into the library with Marcos and his cohort, while my brother and I supervise the cleaning and go to bed. The screaming and yelling is a constant silencer. As we pass the library we hear a final "You can not have her!"

There's silence. Perhaps a few mumblings. More silence.

  "Dad, is everything ok in there?" I whisper through the doors.

"Fine, Jocie. Everything's just fine," he whispers back.

    Something isn't though. I can tell.

As I sit by the vanity table brushing out my hair, I hear a knock as soft as the wind. Father enters. There's only panic holding him together.

"Jocelyn, you need to get changed now. They're coming."

      I nod. I get up as dad leaves the room. Temperamental creatures, they are. Never know when they're friendly or when they're going to declare war on you.

I'm now rushing around the room. The warmth of the fire has no effect on me. I tug on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I grab some rings, a hairbrush, just some stupid sentimental things. I rush out, feeling heat flare around me. "Dad!" I yell, "Nic!"

      Nic sees me. His dark blond hair looks like he felt a dragon's wrath. He looks confounded. 

"Children!" I hear a fierce whisper and spin around. Dad stands there, looking as old as the castle, "It's too late. They're too near. We need to get you out of here now."

I look from him to Nic and back again. How were we going to get out of here? It's then I hear the thrum. It's low at first, barely registrable to the human ear, only slightly louder to me. It slowly gets louder and louder. Dad's saying something under his breath. I can't make out what.

         Dad finally looks up. His dark brown eyes are full of sadness.

"You'll be safe here. Go to your rooms and don't come out until you've read this book."

He passes us each a book. We look at him, confused. The book's called 'Living in the Past'

"It was the only way to save you," he says.

It dawns on me what he's done. We're in a different century. My eyes widen, and my lip starts quivering. 

"I've got to go now," Dad notices the sudden change in atmosphere, "It's the only way to save you."

He kisses my forehead. He shakes me brother's hand. He leaves. Disappears. Floats away. He's gone.

Numbly, I go back to my room. I open my wardrobe. It's filled with long dresses of frills and stripes and antiquity. My God. My father time travelled. He took me back to the nineteenth century.

~~~~~

And that's when I woke up. Yea guys, this is what you get for me watching Vampire Diaries.

If you don't get it, basically: I live in a castle. I live in a world where vampires, wizards/witches, werewolves, fairies, etc. are known in the world. We are all segregated into states. My dad, for whatever reason, is the prime minister of the wizards/witches state. Vampires have come over for some diplomatic arguing. Vampire Marcos wants to make a personal deal, yadayadayada, but dad (being the awesome guy he is) won't allow it. Vampire declare war to try and get it. VOILA! Time Travel!

Valentine's Day

Yes, it's Valentine's Day. And yes, I'm one of the plethora of people who disagree with the consumerism of the whole event, entirely. But at the same time, I do like what it stands for. NO, not that it stands for couples making girls and women alike feel weepy, and left out, and alone, and just generally horrible. I like that it stands for love.

Now, now, now, hear me out. While Valentine's Day is supposed to be about 'relationship love', I honestly think it should be an 'all-sorts-of-love' day. And while, its' most basic essence is that of 'relationship love', I think that there is a few minority who just believe that it's a day for love spreading and appreciating who you're surrounded by. So, here's my list of people-who-i-love-but-not-in-a-romantic-way-but-i-appreciate-them:


My Family: As much as my brother is bothersome, and as much as my mum is OCD-clean-freaky, and as much as I never see my dad or my little sisters, I love them all. I love my brother, because he's given me unlimited patience, and has started hugging me and stopped calling me derogatory terms (aka he's growing up. *sniffs* my little brother is becoming a big boy - yes I realise he's fourteen, but that isn't the point). I love my mum because she's there and she will always help me and despite her doubts, she's willing to support me. I love my dad because he always makes me laugh and doesn't freak out when I drive and I hate it that I can never see him because of work (ditto with sisters).

Best Friend A: I've known Best Friend A (Rachael) since I was six. If there is anyone who knows me inside-out, it's her. She's my loud, beast of a friend who will willingly beat any boy up who breaks my heart, and she's got an ego that can't quite compare to anybody elses. She's the best. I really, really, really, really hope she gets an OP1 so she can go into medicine. She'd be an awesome doctor.

Best Friend B: Best Friend B (Georgia) is a more recent edition, but she's the sweetest, bestest, person alive. If I need to discuss anything Doctor Who or movies or life, she's there with a quirky remark. I love her with all my heart. She always knows what to say to make my day. I'm going to miss her heaps if she moves away for university.

Best Friend A and B are not in preferential order, they are my bestest friends equally.

My Internet Friends: Without you guys, I don't know what I'd be like now. I truly don't.

Books: I know this is a bit of a cheat, but so many books have shaped me as a person, and I think that if I weren't such a voracious reader, the person I would be, would be entirely different to who I am now.


Really, if I think about it, just generally life. I don't think people realise how much they depend on others to help them out, and shape them as people. I tend to think of people as lots of memories moulded into one frame, and that sometimes those memories bring out different layers and facets of your character, depending on who you're with. If it weren't for the human capacity to love, I think the world would be a much more bitter place.

Even if you don't like how Valentine's Day is marketed, use it as a day to appreciate those you love. Because that's the most important thing; love.

\\This appears to be a recurring theme, doesn't it? Not on purpose, promise! Ok, I'm going to go off and do school work now. It's going to be uber fun.\\

A Bookshop.

When I'm feeling down, something I think about is a bookshop. It isn't any sort of bookshop. It's my bookshop. If I were to own any sort of store, it would be this bookshop.

It would be on a small street, probably in a city. But it would be a city with character, and charm. Even if the air I breathed were to smell acrid and unhealthy, in that street, the smell would be cleaner. The bookshop would be historic; ancient, in some eyes. It would have a peculiar Victorian feel to it, and an almost pinkish colour. It would be three storeys, rectangular and really quite skinny. You'd have to walk up a few steps towards the doorway. When you'd look around you'd notice nothing in particular, nothing too special about this little bookshop. You may notice the brick, and slowly decaying look to it. You may notice the intricacies in the archways around the windows. The windows would be large and deceiving, hiding away the true nature of the bookstore. It would be plotting, plodding, toying with your ideas.

You'd shrug nonchalantly, and touch the door knob. The door would be understated yet grand. The carvings, with detail. You'd see frost on the glass and feel your fingers numbing, and remember just how cold it was, and shuffle inside quickly. Not bothering to see what the bookshop looks like until you close the door, you step around and gape. It's lured you in. Surprised, enticed, delighted you. The warmth tingles on your skin and in your peripheral vision, you see  a small fire going.

The bookshop is now another world. The air is stuffy, warm, comforting. You look around, and not a soul is in site. You delve head first into the books. The books. They encircle you, entangle you, trap you in their embrace, just like they did the building. The books - they're everywhere. All you see is books. Piled up timidly, from the bottom to the top on the room. Old, new, used, coloured, bright, dull, hardcover, paperback. The options are endless. And you'd just twirl again and again and again, taking in the colours and insurmountable amount of books and not know where to go first.

You decide to explore a little. You feel like a child again, on a new adventure not knowing where you'll end up. You tip toe delicately across the room towards where the fire was. As you do, you watch the books open up into a larger area. The fire is going. It's delirious, magnificent, glamorous. There are two large, plush couches dancing around it, coaxing you into comfort. Before you do, you realise a girl's there. Only quite young. Her hair dangles down her back and dances with the fire as if they were brother and sister. Her head is down; she's reading. On she goes in silence, just reading on that windowsill. You're enchanted by her. The complete oblivion to everything around her. Her head dips up, and she stares out onto the street. It's dark out there. Twilight has just set, and the old style street lights have burnt up. She sighs, and you leave her.

As you walk back towards the large books, you hear a small crash above your head. That's odd. Your eyes slide over the surroundings, and you notice a swirly staircase peaking through. Impulsively, you go up. What should you expect? Not surprisingly, there are more books there. They're more diluted in the fabric of this atmosphere. Spindly tables and chairs cover the ground, with a small coffee station spurting stains everywhere. Books are precariously placed near the balcony that you now notice. It overlooks the whole store. You hear another bang, louder this time. Spinning to the persecutor, you see someone trying to clean up another coffee stain. She looks at it with sparkles in her eyes, amused at her own misfortune. As her head turns upwards, she notices you and squeals a little. Sorry, she says, I thought that we had closed up. She looks down over the balcony, like a vulture waiting to attack. Juliet, she squeals, Juliet close up already.

She looks at me and continues cleaning. How strange. I hear a tingle enveloping the store. It's closed now, Juliet sings back sweetly. I watch, and she sits herself back in the windowsill. You can still look around if you want, the lady says to me, I'm just cleaning up. You nod, dazed. You walk slowly down the staircase, becoming dizzy after walking in circles. You go through each of the books, carefully, slowly.

Time has passed. How much? You don't know. Footsteps on the metal staircase rattle you out of the reverie. Sorry, she says, do you want any tea? You nod, vacantly. The lady nods, and you follow her. Up, up, up the steps you go. You watch her as she walks towards a bookcase - one of the only ones in the store. She manoeuvres some books around and opens a latch. A hallway entreats.  Do you mind if it's in my apartment? She asks, It's just, well I've packed everything else up for the day. I nod, and look.


p.s. This sort of turned creative-y by the end, so sorry about that. The descriptions are basically true to what I'd love a bookshop to look like.

Sometimes.

Sometimes I wonder if this life, this one I've created for myself is all a dream. Sometimes I wonder if one day I'll wake up, truly wake up and realise that I'm back in a small apartment with my cousins eating Go-Gurt's (on holiday) and understand that this thing was all some extravagant ploy or distraction my mind created for me, and I'm actually still only seven years old. I'm still innocent, naive, unaware of the atrocities of life.

Sometimes I wonder if what I really want to do with my life - write, will work out. Whether it will be some fun thing that I'm really, really good at and love so much that I wouldn't even consider it a job, or whether I'll just be rejected again, and again, and again. Whether it will be something that I'll be recognised for. Something that'll be for me.

Sometimes I wonder if all this worrying that I do, over my grades and my work, and my life is worth it. Will it be useless in the future, and have only given me too many wrinkles, or will it be valued? Will the stressing and panic attacks be for the right reasons?

Sometimes I wonder if my shyness is hindering me in accessing my full potential. Sometimes I wonder if I need to find a way that makes me more loud and boisterous, more confident.

Sometimes I wonder if all this luxury I get is fair. Sometimes I wonder why not many people take their education for granted anymore. Sometimes I wonder if people really truly know how lucky they are, how lucky they are to be given opportunities.

Sometimes I wonder if this life, this one I've created for myself is all a dream. If, when I wake up, I'm in a completely different place. I'm poverty-stricken, unwell, in a bad place, and this is my escape. My alternative universe. My utopia.

Sometimes I forget that this life that I have, that I constantly complain about, is actually really, really good. That I have friends who understand my introversion, that I have some of the greatest teachers at my school, that I have a family that's whole and well (even if they're dysfunctional), and that I have a workplace that I cherish.

Just sometimes.

What is Love?

Earlier this week, my brother asked me what he should do about a girl thinking he liked her. I was momentarily thrilled that he confided in me (he never, ever does that), but then I realised 'Who am I kidding? What do I know about love, or romance, or relationships?'

The most I know are from books, and movies. That's all fiction, so I can't really say I'm some sort of expert either (even though I do read/watch a lot of movies). This question my brother asked got me completely baffled.
   What is love supposed to feel like? I mean, sure, people say it's when you get butterflies in your tummy, whenever you're around them. And sure, it's when you smile whenever you think of them. And hey, it's also whenever you kiss them, you feel fireworks, and sparks of energy bouncing around the room. But really, what is it like?

Is it one of those things that are subjective, like beauty? Or is it truly the same for everyone?

Sometimes, I think people feel this pressure to find love and to grasp onto it and never, ever let it go. There are so many pictures, and quotes, exclaiming in detail what love is like, and how it's brilliant, and utterly fantastic, and amazing, but how it's also hard, and difficult, and full of untimely heartbreak. Society likes to obsess over what love feels like, so if you feel something as tiny as your heart racing, it immediately whispers love in your ear.

And, admittedly, it is a big deal for us teenagers. Most of my friends have a secret desire to find love at school, and live happily ever after with their sweetheart. I would be lying if I said that wouldn't be ideal. Yet, perhaps I'm one of the few cynical romantics. Perhaps, having heartbreak would be good, be nice. Life is very much a roller coaster, and having heartbreak after a true romance, seems like something that will only make a person stronger. Obviously it isn't meant to be. I honestly believe that there is someone out there for everybody. There's seven billion bloody people in the world, there has got to be someone.

That's not to say that you should search for love, or even try to prevent it. I've only ever had one relationship, and I wouldn't even call it that. It lasted two days, and we barely talked to each other. We never had an actual date, and the most we did was hold hands. And yet, despite this, I still felt hurt. I felt like he had betrayed me. I wanted to cry. I don't know whether this changed me, but I have learnt that I shouldn't let myself get wrapped up in something trivial. The sad thing is, is that I didn't even really like the guy. But it taught me that perhaps the next time someone asks me out, I should say yes, but only if I like him as more than a friend.

The thrill of someone asking you out, the dread when you realise you may have to say no. The timid smile, and the adrenaline rushing through your veins. It's big feelings for teenagers, so of course it's going to affect us. When you're a teenager, you're going through a vulnerable time. Your morals and principles are changing. Your world is being opened up, and you realise just how tiny you are.

I've never been in love, and chances are I won't be for a while. Let's be honest here, why would anyone want to date me? Anyway, I just felt like a blog post was necessary for some odd reason.

Till next time guys,
Jocie

BOOK CURRENTLY READING: Angel Arias by Marianne de Pierres
WORDS: 0
QUOTE: "Hey Jocie. Look at my hair. I'm a sunflower" - The brother.
Also, guys, I found this kind of awesome site, so if you want, go check it out: http://iwl.me/

Journals.

So, tonights blog post (about journals) coincidentally came when I was writing in my journal. It occurred to me, as I was writing in the aforementioned journal that I have gone through quite a few journals in my small, fifteen (nearly sixteen!) years. I don't know whether I just look like someone who uses a journal a lot, or something, but it has been something that has been a constant present for many years. Admittedly, I do use journals a lot. Even more so, recently.

Before you say anything, yes, I was that little girl who would bother their mother and/or father to get them a pretty notebook/diary/journal until they caved (I really don't like calling them diaries, because it only reminds me of homework). It's what I did, and to be honest, I don't think either of them minded very much. Even though, in the recent years, my birthday journals have been replaced with gift vouchers and such, it doesn't stop my love for journals.

I literally do use my journals for everything. It ranges from writing down a couple to a dozen lists, the things I have to do for homework, doodling random pictures (which honestly, isn't something I'm good at), to legit writing scenes from the multiple W.I.P's, to venting out my frustrations. They're some of the things I do a lot of in my journals.

So, for the purpose of this video, I have ransacked through my room, and found as many as I possibly could. The things I do for you guys. (And, yes I'm a bit of a hoarder).

I nicknamed them all for you, so you know what I'm talking about. I'm so nice, aren't I?
(also, sorry for the crappy quality)

Out of all the journals, I have wrote some form of fiction in... *looks through them* 5 of them. They would be OLDOLDOLD, Science-y School, Dolphin, Big Spotty, and Pinky Positive.

I'm pretty sure OLDOLDOLD (which is from, like, Grade 4 or 5), is the first example of my brilliant story writing. I actually just read through it, and it was a murder mystery, with the victim being Daisy Mowbray (pronounced Moe-bray, it says quite specifically in my notes), and the murderer being Paul Cabet (with a silent T, apparently, so I suppose it's pronounced Cab-ay, or something ludicrous). The detective is Kirsty Windchester, and the victim was found by Beverly Hill (OMG, so original). My obsession with Harry Potter is obvious from the beginning; one of my suspects was called Victor Crumb. He was a janitor. Oh, I'm shutting up about it now, because I'm absolutely certain this needs to be made into a video. Sorry, kids. You'll have to wait for that now.

The funny thing is, is that I actually remember writing it. Despite it only being a page (not kidding, one stinking page), I specifically remember going to my mum and asking her what a good dead person's name is. Oh my gosh, this is bringing a wave of nostalgia over me.

The four other journals (which really, are more fitting for the title diary, I feel) are practically my whining books. And my future books o.o. I wish I was even kidding, but apparently I was obsessed with the future even then. Little Spotty, and Supergirl (the pink one that wasn't labelled, because I'm a fool) are both dedicated to my life's ambitions, as well as future careers, etc. etc.

God, I'm so weird. Pinky Babu and Flowery Pinky are both filled with my daily encounters of life, and is spent for a majority of the time complaining about things. *throws hands up* I don't even know.

Can I just say, before I go, that just because I've got a lot of pink journals, it doesn't necessarily mean I like pink. Sure, when I was younger, it was my favourite colour, but seriously, it's green now. Green and me get along swimmingly.

Well, I'm gonna be off now. Homework is beckoning me to go stroke it's bristles (plus my mum is verging on the career/life lecture). If I don't make the nostalgia story video soon, poke me repeatedly until I lose it, and do it out of spite.

I'll thank you now, because I'll probably hate you when you actually do it.

BOOK CURRENTLY READING: Exile by Rebecca Lim
DAYS TILL BIRTHDAY: 4 (omgomgomgomg)
WORDS WRITTEN THIS MONTH: 1,278 (I'm actually writing at the moment, that's why this topic came up in the first place)
QOTD: "Oh no, it was my phone. I passed out of my dream like a scream, and looked at the time" - Myself, aged 8, attempting to write a murder mystery.

Paragraphing and Writing has BEGUN!

So guess who's actually writing again? That's right people, I've finally lost my August writing challenge virginity (that was a sort of bad/inappropriate analogy, wasn't it? I'm sorry, I'm very, very sorry). Mind you, I've only written about a sentence, but tonight is a night of little to no homework, there's nachos for dinner and I actually have free time. Yes, my dear friends, life is good.  :)

Admittedly, I do have a Geography exam tomorrow, but I'm being blissfully ignorant about that fact, and spending some quality time with my W.I.P.

So, on another note, I spent my day writing many, many paragraphs. First, in Modern History we have a mini writing workshop about how to write comparative paragraphs, as well as cause and effect paragraphs. We then began talking about Euthanasia during Nazi Germany, which was severely depressing. That's one thing I've noticed since we started this unit, is that by the end of every single, stinking lesson, I end up feeling depressed because I just can't get my head wrapped around the fact that people can do that to each other, and not wonder about where their humanity is going. It's just, I don't even understand. *sighs* That's naivety at it's best, isn't it? Mind you, I have read Book Thief by Marcus Zusak (which is brilliant, in case you were considering reading it), so I do realise that most of the German people didn't even know what was really going on because they were so sheltered.

Anywho, then I had Biology, which involved spending the whole lesson writing out methods for our ecology reports. Speaking of which, next Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, I will be unable/unavailable to write up the daily blogs (I know you guys will certainly miss my touching posts, no need to cry *sarcasm*). This is due to the fact that I am off to a rocky shores ecosystem camp for the aforementioned report. My group is counting Red Warratah Anenomes, and Sea Urchins. It will be great fun. You know what's even greater? That, according to my teacher, we get to listen to lectures about ecosystems every night for two straight nights. I think I may die.

Then, last up, I had Maths. Which, is, you know, Maths. I don't particularly enjoy it, but I'm becoming increasingly pleased with myself due to the minute fact that I can actually understand how to do things like logarithms, and trig functions.

Anywho, that's me for the day. I hope all of you have joyous nights/mornings/afternoons and I shall see you all tomorrow.

BOOKS CURRENTLY READING: Supernaturally by Kierstin White
WORDS WRITTEN THIS MONTH: (Currently) I'm not actually entirely sure. Approx 32?
DAYS TILL BIRTHDAY: 16
QOTD: "Arthur Darvil* lives in Birmingham. People are rioting because they'll never be as cool as Rory Williams" - Georgia

*For those of you who don't know who Arthur Darvill is, he plays Rory in Doctor Who. He's Amy's husband, and is the one who keeps dying.

I am becoming Skilled in the area of Procrastination.

  As I lie here, quite comfortable on my bedroom floor, while trying to finish editing my Geography report, an almost obscure thought came to me. I can never write over 5,000 words on a writing project. Whether it's because I get bored with it (that's probably the case) or whether it's because I never get into a routine, or the idea slips from my mind, I have never, to this day, written anything over 5,000 words (other than, of course, my two attempts at NaNoWriMo, when I wrote about 14,000 words and 30,000 words). I think chances are though that it is more probably the former.
   As you know, if you've been following me for a while, I tend to dapple in different things quite often, and to I'm sure nobodies surprise, I'm beginning to attempt to write another little project. I started it perhaps 3 days ago, and I'm nearly up to 5,000 words (4,119 words to be exact) and it's making me wonder if I will surpass my expectations this time and actually finish something for once. I gave myself a goal earlier this year that I'd finish doing a first draft on one of my writing projects by the end of this year. At present, I haven't really stuck to that.
   However, now I've told a friend of this and she adores the writing project so she's making me write a chapter a week, and if I don't, then I shall be punished (I, of course, having a fear of punishment, have yet to find out what this is). It's working well, and I'm proud of myself. But you know what else? I suck at titles. I know some people are magicians and they can weave a whole story and summarise it swiftly into a title, but I am not gifted in that area. More so, I can literally spend hours brainstorming book names and only come up with one or two. I most likely won't even be happy with either of them.

ANYWHO, I have spent the last three weeks doing exams, assignments and more school work. This isn't fun in the slightest. One more week, though, and then freedom! *Excitement*

Just out of mere curiosity, would you like to see some of the new writing project? I'll just show you anyway because I have nearly honed my procrastination skill. Here it is:

And before you ask, yes it is paranormal. What did you expect? The basic jist of it is that it's about best friends that have had supernatural abilities since forever (but thought it was normal, so they never talked to anyone about it but to each other) and now someone is coming after them. They are apart of some big prophecy that says that the two girls can take that antagonistic someone down. I'm still working on what happens, the outline, etc. but tell me, what do you think? And, if you are a brilliant magician with book names, would you mind honing your skill to help me out?

HAVE FUN!
Continue being lovely
&dftba. xox

BOOKS CURRENTLY READING: How to Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
                            &                           City of Glass by Cassandra Clare OR Paranormalcy by Kiersten White (I'm still deciding)

The Massive Update that is My Life.

HELLO! *pats heads of readers fondly*
I've missed each and every one of you whole-heartedly but I'll admit that I've been particularly lazy with my blogging recently. As much as I want to say it's because of work, etc, etc, I'll own up to it and tell you that, no, I'm just avoiding making amusing posts because I can't be bothered. HOWEVER, just so you know right now, in two days time, I am actually starting school again, so there WILL be a reason as to why there are either more or less blogs (that depends on my procrastination level).

I feel it necessary to tell anybody who'll listen that the first day of school and I have a bit of a bitter sweet, rocky relationship. This has spanned over many years, but it's kind of properly hit home this year due to the unnerving fact that I start a day later than everybody else because I'm in Grade 11, and therefore my grades need to be tip-top by the end of this year if I want to get into a good rank for each of my classes in Grade 12 (this is all Australian education system, and I suggest that if you know what's best for you, you don't ask any questions because I could begin to ramble). Also, because I'm a huge idiot, I decided it best that I do all the 'hard' subjects for the next two years. This involves Geography (which I've never done), Modern History, Maths B (or harder maths, whichever you prefer knowing it as), English, Biology and Music. The 'hard' subjects are Modern History, Geography and Maths B. So, you know, FUN.

ALSO, I've not totally given up on my NaNoWriMo novel, but I really need a break from it (so, I'm taking a break, obviously). Before you say anything else, yes, I have indeed not been at all imaginative with the NaNoWriMo novel's title due to my lack of creative energy flown towards that department. However, I did start another book, though my being a perfectionist makes it hard for me to start because I'm frustrating myself with how to begin, etc (which, I feel you should know, I do very well for someone of the ripe, old age of 15). It's a contemporary drama, titled 'Georgie & Olive' (and before you type a comment asking if one of my friends thought that up because it's horrible/brilliant, no I did. 'Tis very creative, I KNOW *sarcasm). But since that isn't going anywhere at present, I've decided to try out another idea of mine (hence, the reason I'm starting a new paragraph, because not only is that correct grammar, but also, this paragraph is starting to become far too long for my liking).

Thus far, I have a vague plot which involves parallel universes, wars and all that jazz that goes along with it. So I suppose it could be classified as a Supernatural/Fantasy thriller? *shrugs* It doesn't really bother me at the moment because I'm just seeing where it goes (which is lacking all that I did for the planning for 'Georgie & Olive'). I'll show you a little excerpt now, because I feel like it.

So what do you think? It sounds kind of depressive at the moment, but I've started to realise that most of my writing projects are naturally like that at the start (which, you know, is kinda sad, but still). Also, if you'd like to help in any way, feel free to suggest names (whether that be character names or made up names for countries, planets, etc) and TITLES (because, as we all know, titles are Jocie's nemesis). I've gotta go ask my writing buddy now her opinion on this project thus far (and before you say anything else, yes that's all I've written, and no, even if you do want to read more, you can't because, a) as aforementioned, I haven't written anymore and b) I don't feel like showing/telling you anymore (despite how mean that sounds, I mean it in the nicest way possible)

ALSO, on the topic of books, I maybe, possibly, did splurge some money on some books (which I haven't recorded because, remember, I'm the lazy person). I have a picture though, so here ya go!

I only realised after I took the piccie that I doubled up from last blog post (so sorry). But here are the books (from left to right):
Alpha Beta by John Man
The Book of Awesome by Neil Pasricha
Evernight by Claudia Gray
Tithe: A Modern Faery Tale by Holly Black
Paranormalcy by Kiersten White
Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher
Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson
Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver
Will Grayson, Will Grayson by David Levithan & John Green
An Abundance of Katherines by John Green
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott.

No need to discuss my problem with buying books. Yes, I bought all of them. Yes, I have a teensy bit of a problem. Everybody buys too much of one thing. Also, these books weren't all bought in one sitting. They were bought on SIX different days.

Now, I can't remember if I posted a blog before Christmas wishing you a merry Christmas and I realise that even if I hadn't it would be far too late for me to say it now, but I still hope you all had amazing/wonderful/brilliant/awesome/magnificent/glorious Christmas' and New Years'. I will try to post more often, honest.  :)
Continue being lovely
&dftba. xox

BOOK CURRENTLY READING: Matched by Ally Condie.
p.s. I'm sorry if this blog post bored you to death, but I hope someone revived you in time for you to continue living, because otherwise that would really be quite unpleasant.