reminisce.

A month or two ago I was at some bad college party. I spent a large portion of the party sitting on the couch with a boy from the university who was asking me, "Do you write?" I hesitated before answering, "Yes, I write everyday." It wasn't a lie. I write for this blog at least 3 days a week. I used to journal everyday, back before school took over every emotion I had. When I was little, 4 or 5, my favourite thing to do was to sit in the big chair in the corner of the living room and write stories on my typewriter. I entered a story in the annual Reading Rainbow story contest and was crushed when I didn't win for my division. My story had been about a little mouse trying to climb up a hill and I had personally illustrated it and lovingly shipped it off to LeVar Burton in hopes of being published.   The first time I was actually published was when I was 17. I wrote a story called Jon and a poem which were both published in my university's annual undergrad lit magazine. They asked me to read the poem at the launch for the magazine, but I really wanted to read the story. It was based on a true story about a boy I knew who used to get beat up, and he'd come to work with black eyes and he was so sweet to me, it broke me to see him hurt. I wanted the world to read that story and be in love with Jon, because he was so lovely. I had written it for a writing class I'd been in, actually, and during peer review, most of the comments I received were that my classmates "didn't get it." Getting it published in the lit magazine was one of the most poetic things that has ever happened to me. It was a dream fulfilled, one that I'd coveted since I was in preschool, but it was also my chance to be heard and for the world to love some stranger that they never knew.   Just last week, I saw an announcement that the same literary magazine was accepting applications for their 2013 issue. Immediately I sat down with the intention of writing a story about another person that I had known, one who inspired me and who I thought would disappear if I didn't write my heart and soul out about him. But it just didn't come. I spend my time in class constantly mulling over this particular person, wishing to write him all the love songs in the world, but nothing ever comes out.   Sometimes I feel like an emotional cripple, but then I can sit in church and cry over all the people hurting. I can't even watch the news without a box of tissue nearby. I love freely and I am overly empathetic. It's killing me that I cannot write beautiful words for this beautiful boy who deserves every single one of them.  
  Even though I cannot muster up the words for this boy, I am constantly yearning for romance...from him, or anyone. This time of year (or anytime of year really, I mean, who're we kidding?) makes me feel especially alone. I fill my life with studies and work and thinking up little love stories while I'm on the bus. I devour old Hollywood films and gaze up at the postcards I have pinned above my bed that friends have sent to me from all over the world.   I'm determined to find companionship for the winter, however. Even if it's only in short friendships or in sending Christmas cards through the post. University makes me lonely. Or maybe it's just the season. Autumn has a habit of making the heart lonesome.   Are you guys all nice and depressed now? Here's a half-assed smile for you, and hopefully some happier words to follow:     My favourite things about autumn? Layers, knits, lipstick, stockings, late mornings & early evenings, dorky hats, sleeping with extra blankets, and the promise of oncoming snow.   I celebrated autumn by layering this H&M horse sundress with my super cuddly turtleneck. I love this sweater because of the colours, I swear it has every colour in it. It was also found (for free) at the back of my sister's closet, so double score.   My pops took these photos for me today, so I have quite a few (I'm usually a bit of a wimp about taking my own photos and only come out with 3 or 4 that I actually like).  




  The weather is insanely windy lately. Instead of having a face, I mostly just have an entire head of hair and usually a hand wiping it desperately away from my eyes and mouth.   I've written a lot for you guys tonight. I guess I just have a lot to get off my chest. I'm skipping 2 of my 3 classes tomorrow so that I can work on two different French essays and a speech about rape in our culture. I need to be deeply intellectual and thoughtful for all 3 assignments, so I suppose it's good to clear my head first. Of course, a walk out in the brisk fall air will wake me up proper, too!