I'm thinking...

I've often thought how hard it is to write down what you are thinking. It's almost nigh impossible. Thoughts are fickle things, you see. At the present moment I am thinking of half a dozen things, and yet I can only write on one. In the object of order and coherency it is necessary to stick to one train of thought, and yet the thoughts in your mind are in no such order. Thoughts, they flit in and out of your mind with no particular care for coherency. I'm thinking of rain falling on the pond, it looks like spots appearing as if a disease all across the pond's brown surface, or like spots on a Dalmatian. Then my mind goes back to the original thought and dwells on the shape of the raindrops falling. I remember watching a video about how the artists created the rain in Bambi, they filled a dropper with milk and watched slow motion videos of the milk dripping down and splashing into the bowl.
All of a sudden that train of thought is lost in thinking about the play I'm in. I think about how much I enjoy playing two characters in one play. I think about how I can make these characters as different as possible from each other, and how I'm planning on changing my hairstyle at least twice during the course of the play. I'm thinking about how easy it would be to talk too quickly, having each word we utter in the play memorized. Then I'm thinking about conversation. Sometimes I think out how conversations will go beforehand, I think about what I should say and how I should say it. In a sense I'm trying to memorize my conversation beforehand, as if it were simply an act in a play. But life rarely gives you an opportunity to speak that memorized speech, or at least as you planned it. Life is an adventure, not a play to memorize. We might think we know someone, but we will never know for sure what goes through their mind, what words will come out of their mouth. I suppose that's what makes me nervous about my interview for the scholarship on Thursday, I hope I do well, but I won't have a chance to think out my responses. I like to have time to think.
That's why I like writing so much. When you write you can put into words thoughts that you have been turning around in your mind for years and years. In most stories I've written I've found myself writing out thoughts about events from years ago. I always think what I'm writing is fictional, and then I read over it again and I find that I've put bits of myself into every character. Bits of me are scattered throughout the stories, the best of me and the worst of me. I remember talking about this a while back with a good friend, she asked if a part of my story was "real" and I said immediately "Oh no." because I thought it wasn't. It was completely from my imagination that story, I've never been in a situation similar to my heroine, I couldn't think of anyone more dissimilar than myself, but suddenly this heroine was spouting out thoughts I'd had myself. Those thoughts were mine and hers together. It's really interesting to think as you read of the author who has written this story. Writing is about digging into your soul. There is no way to write without sharing bits and pieces of yourself even if that is not your intention. I don't mean copying yourself and your life. No, that's not what I mean at all. I mean writing someone else's story, and then finding yourself in a brief thought or word that flouts through the story.
Now I've completely lost what I was thinking about when I started writing these thoughts on writing. I was going to talk about my interview on Thursday, but we'll leave that for now. It'll turn out as it turns out.

I'm reading...

Right now I'm reading Waking Rose by Regina Doman out loud to my brother. Waking Rose is my favorite of her books. I love that book because there's so many layers to it. Even though I've read it many times I still find something different in it. It's a story mixed with bits of reality and fantasy, with daily life at a Catholic College and with knights and ladies fighting for what is good and right. My favorite characters in it are the Knights of the Sacra Cor. They are funny and sweet, courageous and ready to stand up for what they believe. Then of course, there's Fish and Rose. Fish has always been the character I've loved most in her books, even in the first one. Which is funny because upon reading over them again he really isn't in the first book very much. Only two or three brief scenes, and yet I loved him best even then? Waking Rose is really his story. One of the things I really like about Regina Doman is that she doesn't pass over the after affects. You see characters in plenty of adventure books that have terrible things happen to them, and yet in the very next book they're back to their usual selves, tragic pasts being forgotten in the next adventure. Not so with the Fairy Tale Novels. We see Fish continually struggling with his past. His memories of the past are harder for him to deal with then when the actual event was taking place. When I read this book for the first time I didn't understand all that was going on, but now that I do I love it even more. It deals with some pretty deep topics, but what you're taking from it really depends on the place you are in when you're reading it. I also love Fish and Rose's relationship and how it blossoms. It gives a very real picture of love and what it's about. It isn't sappy love at first sight, nor is it a case of mutual dislike turned upside down (ugh it drives me nuts when this happens). It's shows love as a choice. My favorite bit about this is how Fish doesn't come to care for Rose in that way till he consciously opens up to her. He makes the decision to trust her and that is the beginning of something beautiful. Their relationship is that of a friendship blossomed into something that much closer and more beautiful.

I'm wearing...

A blue dress.

Outside my window...

The canoe has been hoisted half way up the hill and is now resting in the daisies between the pond and my window. Just beyond it a shadow divides the lawn. Dew drops can be seen on each blade of grass in this shadowed area, beyond the great divide the sun has dried all morning dew and the daisies have unfurled themselves. (Now that I have put you to sleep with my description of the outside world I shall proceed. Such a description would only be interesting if I tossed a character or two in there. Perhaps a dark and mysterious figure in the shade and sunny faced pleasant character in the sun. Don't mind me. I'm babbling.)

 I'm creating...

I'm determined to finish the letters I've started writing. I really do need to get them in the mail. I'm a fearful procrastinator sometimes and I've been neglecting my correspondence horrendously. Then I'm wracked with guilt.

I'm thinking...

There's such a lot of things I could be writing here. I don't know if I've mentioned, but I was recently accepted into my school of choice, so that's been filling my thoughts quite a lot recently. It's a lovely feeling to know not only where I want to attend, but also that I'm an official student for the Fall of 2013. It's funny, it felt that I was waiting such a very long time and I had so much time to imagine out how I would feel if I got that white envelope with an acceptance letter, that it almost didn't feel real. I felt that I had only to blink and I would be back to the waiting process and realize that I had only been imagining it out again. The powers of an overactive imagination I suppose. Anyhow, I'm so very excited. I still feel a little worried about things, but I'm trying not to dwell on that too much. It's so easy to spend all your time worrying and then find that you wasted that time that was supposed to be filled with peace and happiness. These months are supposed to be months that I get to enjoy all the time of expectancy and excitement. Months of planning. I don't want to waste them in worrying. I know this is the college and I need to trust that everything will work out as it's supposed to.

On another note my head has been brim full with Much Ado About Nothing lines. Apparently my brain would not rest upon having memorized my own lines and is now forcing me to memorize everyone else's as well. Shakespeare lines go flouting through my head all day long and I believe if I'm caught unaware sometime I shall suddenly shout at somebody "BOYS. APES. BRAGGARTS. JACKS. MILKSOPS." or,  as it is more likely, I shall random start muttering dialogues that have nothing to do with my character. "What? My dear Lady Disdain, are you yet living?" "Is it possible that disdain should die when she has such meat food as Signor Benedick?" I'm afraid I've already caught myself at this obvious sign of insanity, and I'm finding it quite hard to keep from chattering to myself as I shelve books at the library. It's always been hard not to drift into dialogues (most often dialogues I'm writing for my own stories) at work, and even harder to keep from repeating things that I've memorized. Once you know the alphabet backwards and forwards and are slipping books and DVDs into their places at top speed you find your mind has far too much room for thoughts pertaining to other things than the job at hand.

On the subject of Shakespeare plays I recently went and saw Love's Labor Lost, which I would almost say is my favorite play now. It was awfully funny and very cleaverly done. They had set it in a 1920s area, a timeperiod I love and it was really fun watching it, especially from the viewpoint of someone who is currently taking part in a Shakespeare play. What I loved most was all the physical humor, at one point they had one of the characters reading a love poem that he had written all over his arms and puzzling how he was to send it.

Outside my window...

Little beads of dew are dripping off the blades of grass. There's something red hidden in the grass but I can't quite make out what it is, perhaps a ball of some sort. I can also see some of those tiny daisies appearing, though they don't seem to be open. Just closed little buds waiting for some sunshine to appear.

I'm listening to...

A CD of piano music called Overcome by David Nevue.

I'm creating...

I don't know if I'm really creating anything at the moment. No continuous project, I mean. Saturday afternoon Ella and I sat on the table and painted pages and pages of green watercolors. I painted a poster with that John Green quote "My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations." I think that's my favorite quote, or part out of any of his books. A sentence of brilliance.

Oh but camp NaNoWriMo is coming up! I think that's in June? I haven't read too much about it, except that I know there is one (I get the newsletters, you see.)

Oh and in May I'm going to get to sew! We're going to sew lovely vintage dresses and I'm so excited to think about it.

From the kitchen...

I thought perhaps I would write out a sentence regarding the dinner I wished to make, but having written it out I decided it sounded far too mundane and instantly backspaced.

On a random note we've been discussing what we're going to do for my birthday and I'm really excited now. I think we're maybe going to get dressed up and go to see Jersey Boys which is playing at one of the gorgeous theaters, or perhaps go and listen to the Symphony which would be splendid fun as well.

All in all this has been a rather excitable journaling page. I'm in just an excitable mood. That is, I would be if I weren't so tired. Sleep is good.

I’m thinking…

As I begin this day, and this journaling page I want to start off with this prayer:

Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen

I went into Mass on Sunday feeling upset and hurt, and walked away feeling peaceful and happy. I think lately I’ve been a bit caught up on how things are affecting me specifically; how people are affecting me, how events specifically affect me and that viewpoint has been making me feel unhappy and upset. I’ve been feeling used and walked upon because I’ve been focused on other people’s actions and words, rather than how my actions and words are affecting other people. The thing is, you can’t change anyone else, and you can only change yourself, and work on your own outlook. You can only control the person you are going to be and the affect that person is going to have on others. I can either focus on my own hurt, or I can focus on how I can try and bring joy and happiness into others lives. I can either choose to be unhappy, or I can choose happiness. It’s often as simple as that.

I want to stop putting myself in a situation where I often come away feeling second best, a back-up plan. I’m going to stop going out of my way only to find myself sitting again curb feeling discarded. This isn’t anyone else’s problem, it’s mine. There’s a difference between being a good friend who is there when someone needs you and jumping up at their beck and call at the least notice. This doesn’t mean I’m upset or angry anymore- and I’ve been there. I’ve been in a place where I’m so angry that I don’t want ever to be around people again. This isn’t constructive either. I’m going to try and be a good friend, someone who can visit and be friendly, and yet at the same time not throw myself into trying to make everything perfect only to be dropped.

I’m not going to focus on those people who hurt me. I’m surrounded by so many people who love and care for me, my family, and I want to be happiness in their lives. I want to be focusing on others rather than myself.

Yes, I’m a far ways away from being that person. From being the person I’m trying to be. I’m working on it though. I know the sort of person I want to be, and that’s half the battle. I know I want to take this prayer truly to heart. I want to turn this viewpoint of mine upside down. I want to be happy because I’m focusing on those changes that I can make, because I’m fixing those things that can be fixed and not making myself unhappy about those things that can’t. I want to focus on the good in people.

I'm listening to...

 

The Les Miserables Soundtrack.

 

I'm creating...

 

I need to finish working on several scholarship applications with deadlines that are quickly approaching. I suppose this can be listed under creative work, can't it? It certainly needs effort in creating.

 

A few plans for the rest of the week...

 

This week I want to spend more time reading. More time drawing. More time writing. Much more time writing. Less time on the computer. More time creating. More time thinking, imagining, working. Less time on things that don't really matter at all. I want to write. To write stories, and blog posts and poetry. I want to read, biographies, fiction, short stories and poetry. I want to learn. I want to grow. I want this week to be a happy, productive, beautiful week.

 

Outside my window...

 

Mud, mud, mud. Which would be delightful- that is if I had the proper footwear for it. I need a new pair of rubber boots rather desperately. Very necessary around here.

 

 

From the kitchen...

 

It's almost lunchtime, and so, this must be

 

The End.

 

 

I’m thinking…

I have decided that one of the things I need to work on is beginning to like preparation work. Unfortunately, as of right now I loathe it, and I really think I always have. There is a reason why I have always hated writing outlines before writing, why I hate cutting out patterns before sewing and there’s nothing I like less than taping off a room before painting it. This isn’t productive for obvious reasons. It’s necessary to do the taping before you paint and the cutting out of patterns- at least if you want your finished product to be of any worth. I find it awfully like torture though. When I start a project I am so very excited to actually start. I can’t wait to write those first few words on the page, to make that first splash of paint on the white wall, and putting off that visible start is awful. Perhaps this can be simplified to saying that I need to work on patience, the patience to do the necessary work before I’m able to begin the enjoyable part of the work.

Actually, patience is definitely something I need to work on. I’ve found this out over the past couple months from long hard lessons of waiting for college and scholarship applications to be returned to me.  You can picture me here strangling a mail box and then slowly crumpling up and dying. Yes, this is melodramatic, but Emily is melodramatic on occasion (as we know too well) and suspense is not something I handle well. This would be why I read books so quickly. Not because I’m a fast reader (though I suppose you could say that as well) but because I simply won’t put the book down until I have finished it because I don’t handle suspense. (Let me here recommend the book Entwined, which has been my record breaker fast read for the year. Yes, I know, it’s only March.)

I’m listening to… King of Anything, Sara Bareilles.

Outside my window… it’s lightly raining outside. I hope it gets harder. What I hope most is that we have a great big storm and the power goes out. That’s always my favorite. I love lighting candles and wrapping up in blankets. I love the feeling of it being cold and rainy outside and being nice and cozy inside. I really love storms. 

I’m reading… Cinder. I’m actually not very far into it but so far I’ve found the whole premise quite interesting. Normally I wouldn’t be too interested in books about cyborgs etc. but I’ve heard quite a few favorable recommendations of it so I thought I’d give it a go.

From the kitchen…about as soon as I finish this I shall start on making up Chicken Enchiladas for dinner.

I’m creating… a drawing of a duck. It’s for a scholarship I’m going to be trying to enter. I would post it but I don’t think you want to have things you’re going to enter in contests published on anything, even if it’s only you’re personal blog. I think that’s usually the procedure. Could be wrong.

 A few plans for the rest of the week… Wednesdays are a busy day of the week. First play practice and then work for me. They both take up quite a bit of time and I go from one to the next so Wednesday is a busy day. I’m looking forward for Thursday because I like Thursday. I’ll probably be babysitting Ella and that’s lovely. Friday is of course lovely simply because it’s Friday, almost the weekend. I’m really looking forward to Saturday because after I get off work my cousin and I are going to go to Mass and then come back to my house and have a nice time visiting and watching movies. Perhaps we’ll make brownies or milkshakes or something. So Saturday sounds quite pleasant. Then it’s Sunday and the end of the week. Is it just me or do weeks feel like they’re getting shorter? It’s only Tuesday and it already feels near the end of the week.

 I’m hoping and praying…well, I’m rather hoping I hear back from the Union Carpenters Scholarship I applied for. I worked really hard on that one, considering the essay topic was something I found very intimidating, and I pushed through and researched and came up with a finished product. So hopefully I hear back from them.

 One of my favorite things…mail. It doesn’t matter whether it’s physical mail or email. I just love mail. There’s nothing better than finding mail waiting for you to discover and open it.

After Night and Before Morning

I’m thinking:

This morning I got up quite early, lit a candle on the table and set the coffee pot a brewing, and started upon blank notebook paper with my sharpened pencils. I was determined to make some progress before the world woke up, and I hope that I can say I have made some at least. The funny thing about getting up so early is that it feels for a bit as if you’ve been transported to another world without time. A continuous dark has settled upon the world, a dark that does not seem to lift and stays pressed against the windowpanes. It is neither night, nor is it morning, but a time (or timelessness) in between. At times it feels like somebody has pasted blackened paper on the other side of the windows and if you could only get past it you would see a different world, but instead you continue to travel through a timeless space.  Perhaps it is what it feels like to be traveling about in a spaceship with no day or night by which to gage the passage of days. I can imagine those hours between night and morning as being somewhat similar to what it must feel like drifting about in a weightless, timeless orbit. I keep repeating the word “timeless,” don’t I? If I were listening to my inner editor I should immediately go back and erase the numberless usages, or quickly think of some other word that would be better fitting for my sentences, but at the moment I simply don’t mind. I don’t mind if I use the word “timeless” once or a dozen times in this paragraph, for I belong to a timeless word where time is too precious to be wasted fretting about silly things such as that- for time is so precious as there is no time at all.

 I’m reading:

 Actually, I’m in-between books. This of course shan’t last beyond a couple hours more before I go digging into my stacks and fishing up a new one to read. I just finished reading “Daddy-Long-Legs” and also “The Lioness and Her Knight” the second a book I read fully over a couple days worth of breaks at the library. It was an easy (yet really quite enjoyable) read, in which I could finish a full fifty pages over a break, so it didn’t take me long at all to finish.

I’m creating:

Well, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before or not but next Monday is the 200^th anniversary of the publishing of Pride and Prejudice, so I rather thought I’d write up a series of blog posts about various screen adaptations, but we’ll see how far I get. I have a couple starts to them, a few sentences at the top of the great many word documents I have open at this moment. The problem never is the beginning though, it’s what comes after that is tricky. I’m also at work on another knitted hat, exactly like the one I just finished, because that one turned out so nice.

 Outside my window:

It seems impossible that morning’s are ever stormy (of course they are and that statement’s simply ridiculous, but at the moment it seems impossible) for the pond is so glassy still, the trees all standing still and motionless as well, not a single breeze to be seen. Everything is still, as it seems like it ought to be in the morning time. Night and darkness is the time for wild winds and rattling of windows as raindrops hit them in a fury, but morning is a time of stillness, of awakening. You never see a thing wild with any great emotion just as it first wakes, would it make sense for the world to be so? For the morning to come roaring to life? To my mind it makes far more sense for it to wake gradually, coming more and more to life as the minutes pass, but very still just at first. Very still.

 I’m listening to:

 Celtic music. I’ve had it playing just about as long as the coffee pot has been brewing, so rather a  long time indeed.

 From the kitchen:

 On the topic of coffee, it won’t be long before I shall be needing to make another pot. The other one has grown quite cold by now, and Mom still needs to have her coffee so another pot I shall make.

 I’m hoping and praying:

 For snow. I really want it to snow. Well, perhaps I’m not exactly praying about snow, but I’m most certainly hoping. Other than that I am praying that I can stop fretting so much about things and trust that things will turn out exactly as they were meant to. It’s no help fretting and worrying, and I shouldn’t, and I know that, but the problem is I still do. So I need to stop.

 A few plans for the rest of the week:

 

Well, I suppose just continuing doing what I'm doing. Starting with finishing up this journaling page and getting back to work on Algebra. I'm planning on going to see Les Miserables again on Thursday though! Which will be a lot of fun! Oh and I'm also quite excited about Cabin Pressure on Wednesday, yay!

 

 

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

From the Kitchen:

For the past two days I've been busily baking. Really, yesterday I was in the kitchen from as soon as I hopped out of bed, till nearly two in the afternoon. I made pizza dough, and at least three different batches of cookies. I wish I had taken a picture, I had four huge plates piled with cookies. Sadly, I handed off about half of them before even thinking of it. This morning I got up and made banana bread (which I just pulled out of the oven. Perfect for a yummy afternoon snack, along with coffee, before going off to work.)

I'm listening to:

Cold December Night. I love this song. Really I do.

I'm thinking:

The other day I was thinking on words. Actually, this is something I think on quite a lot. If you know me you will know that words are something I love, and consequently they are something I talk a lot about. (Goodness, I even named my last blog Meaningful Words, and my first post was on how we should choose our words carefully, because each word means something.) I was thinking about this program which you can use to see what your say ten, fifteen, twenty most frequently used words were on various websites. It's interesting you know, seeing what words you use the most often. Are they nice words? Words that give you a nice happy feeling, even as they are, disconnected from each other and any sentence that they might have been put into. I was thinking about if you could gather all those words that you spoke as well as wrote, what words would they be? I know the sort of words I would want my vocabulary to be summed up with, the question is, whether I live up to that. I certainly hope my words are ones that are kind and meant to bring joy to those with whom I'm talking, and those words that I have spoken that do not live up to this goal, I hope that I might eliminate in future.

Anyhow, this is a word cloud of a collection of words on this blog.

One of my favorite things:

The week before Christmas. I just want it to last forever. I just want to stretch out these days in which we get to finish up on Christmas presents, baking Christmas cookies and making Christmas crafts. On which topic, here's a picture of my favorite Christmas craft of this year

 

Isn't it just lovely?

 

 

I'm creating:

 

A couple days ago I embroidered the facial features on my knit doll, and I'm just finishing up the red dress I made for her. I'll post a picture after I sew on the arms, as the arms really are necessary. I am a little nervous to actually sew them, because I've worked so hard on her and I don't want to mess her up. I've also named her Lorna, after Lorna Doone, so I'm trying to figure out a way to incorporate her name onto a tag of some sort.

 

I'm hoping:

 

For snow. I hope it will snow. Please? Please let it snow?

 

I'm reading:

 

The Book Thief. I'm actually really impressed by this book so far. It's one of the best written books of a recent publishing date that I've read.

 

I'm wearing:

 

Sweat pants, a green t-shirt and a jacket of my Dad's that is immensely to large for me. Yes, it is noon. Yes, I do have to work soon. No, I shan't be dressed in such a manner very shortly. However, too large jackets are really warm and cozy. Jackets that fit just aren't this cozy. They're really not.

 

 



Muddy Roads and Books

Outside my window

Today is a day that verges along the edge of a boundary, a line, that separates Fall and Winter. Perhaps if I lived somewhere else I would definitely describe it as Fall weather; cloudy skies, green grass tipped with frost, muddy roads, but for us, it has a hinting of Winter. Not that Winter is even supposed to begin until the end of the month (doesn’t that seem rather silly to you? December seems such a wintery month to me, and yet Winter doesn’t even begin till the last few days.) When I look out my window what I really want to describe most is mud. Dark, chocolaty brown mud. I like mud. That is, I like mud when I slip on my extra tall boots (courtesy of last Christmas and my increasing need for boots) and trump about in a road of mud. Mud that squishes, squelches, and sticks to the bottom of the old boots.

 I’m reading

The Book Thief (so far I’m really enjoying it. I’m about ten chapters in I think, and it’s really well written and absorbing. I dislike how the book is broken up with these bolded sections between paragraphs, it’s rather jolting, but so far that’s my only complaint. Then again I’m still near the beginning)

Skipping Christmas (This is a reread. I recommend. It always makes me laugh.)

A Wodehouse story from my Just enough Jeeves story collection.

I’m  finding my list of books increasing by dozen as I’ve been going through Sarah’s book blogs, and really, I want to read anything she suggests. I have a great big long list of books to find now.

From the Kitchen

Cold coffee sitting on the tabletop.

A few plans for the rest of the week

I’ve been filling out a new address book, slowly but surely. Who knew it could take such a long time? I’m about half way through. I also need to finish filling out Christmas cards, but extra envelopes are necessary. Also, I would like to create some Christmas ornaments and things. That’s always such fun.

I’m creating

Well, I believe I covered what I’m creating in the prompt above, but I do also need to finish up my doll. I want to have it all ready to give to Ella on Christmas.

I’m listening to

Squealing children running up and down the stairs, thump, thump, thump.

 

 

The Victorian Lady and Christmas Lights

I'm thinking...(I wrote this yesterday? but I'm posting anyhow)

There is a lady who lives in the town nearest to us who wears Victorian garb every day, and when I say Victorian garb I mean everything. You can see her walking down the street with trailing skirts and lacy blouses, her hair up in a large pompadour. She often carries a parasol and rides on a very old fashioned looking bicycle. Now, I’ll be honest and say that originally I thought this rather strange. You know, one of those odd quirks of people belonging to a little town (and this is coming from someone obsessed with historic dresses and hairstyles.)
I’ve been thinking about her a lot though lately, and found that I really admire her. If I found it strange, you can well imagine the looks she must get when she walks into a grocery store or something. I admire her because she really doesn’t care. She isn’t doing it to make a show, to go against society or anything of the like- she does it because she likes to. She feels comfortable in floor length skirts and heels that lace or button up past the ankle. She wears clothes like that because she loves them, and honestly doesn’t care about other people’s opinions.
Which I find really refreshing.
It is all too common for us to worry how we appear in other people’s minds. To worry about the impression we are making, or what is being said about us. When really the most important thing is to have a good opinion of yourself. Now I’m not saying that we should all live a Victorian lifestyle, indeed that would be most impractical, but I think we should care a little less about what other people think of us. I know that there are times when I feel like simply being happy and humming as I go about doing whatever task I’m at work with, and yet I stifle the hum because I’m afraid of the stranger walking past me.
It’s not that I hide who I am, and if someone asks me I’m happy enough to answer them honestly, but there’s still that part of me that wants to be invisible. That doesn’t want to stand out. I want to be less afraid of being noticed, because if you’re confident and happy with yourself that’s what is really important, and that’s a beautiful thing.

Outside my window...it's a lovely chilly day.

I'm wearing...A striped sweater and jeans and am wrapped up in a large blanket.

I'm reading...Jeeves and Wooster books by P. G. Wodehouse

I'm creating... Almost finished with my doll's dress.

I'm listening to...Christmas music, yay!

A picture thought I'm sharing...

 

 

My room all decorated with lights, doesn't it look lovely?

It's Monday Again

I'm thinking...

I'm going to be keeping this short today. November is seeming a very busy month. (Also, no I never did finish the October challenge did I? Perhaps I'll write up some more letters in December. After college applications and NaNo.)

From the Kitchen...

Two nice little balls of bread dough sitting on the counter in a puddle of flour. What a lovely way to begin the week, with the smell of homeade bread flooding through the house.

I'm listening to...

Christmas music. (yes, we are listening to Christmas music already. It isn't really full out Christmas music though, just piano. It makes us all happy though.)

I'm wearing...

My periwinkle blue "Christendom" t-shirt and jeans. As soon as my hair dries I'm going to fix it into the bun style that I've been wearing quite often lately.

I'm creating...

I really do need to finish knitting my doll, don't I? My hope is to definetly finish it by the end of December. I'm rather looking forward to December as a month that will have slowed down some. A month of knitting, crafting, baking and counting down the days till Christmas.

Around the house...

spread all across the table are many pages of paper painted with lovely watercolors.

I'm reading...

Joy in the Morning, by P. G. Wodehouse.

Outside my window...

It's a rather grey day. (Is gray the British spelling and grey the American one? I was just thinking about that. Perhaps I shall look it up.)

One of my favorite things...

Baking bread.

A few plans for the rest of the day...

Finishing up my bread, writing an essay, working on my novel, etc.

Of Writing and The Hobbit

I'm reading...

Perhaps I should begin with what I'm reading, as that is what is on my mind at the moment. Sorcery and Cecelia Or The Enchanted Chocolate Pot by Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer. Don't you just hate it when you reach the most absorbing and altogether interesting point in a story, and it's just at that point that you have to put it down? Now I don't mean to complain, but really. When you are forced to leave your heroine in the most horrendous of circumstances how are you supposed to put your mind to anything else? You may appear to be thinking about the many things you ought to be thinking about, but really you're just thinking of the book.
This is especially the case if it's a good book such as the one I'm reading right now. At first I was rather put off by the fact that it is written in letter form, which is really a difficult way to tell a story, you know. Because just when you're getting into the telling of the story, and you forget that it really is a story at all, you are reminded by the ending of one letter and starting of the next. So, yes, it's a harder style to write without loosing your reader's attention, but I think the authors of this book succeed at it. Now that I'm reaching the end I'm really hooked (I must admit that the letter styling did bother me till a good six chapters into the story.)
I was also a trifle unsure about the regency setting, considering that it was also a fantasy story (not usually a pairing one finds.) I do think that it sounds a trifle funny to be having references to Lady Jersey and talk of enchanted chocolate pots in the same sentences. It makes me laugh. No wonder the dedication was to Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer, and J.R.R. Tolkien.

I'm creating...

(Or, in other words, NaNoWriMo update!) Dear me, um, I do believe that I may possibly be starting over? *ducks head and hides from all bystanders* I know, I know, remember what I said, what was it two days ago? Keeping on with it and all that rot? Well, you see, I just can't stand my main character. It isn't that she's hate-able (I might be able to stand her if she was) and she isn't likable either. One can't connect with her. Then I started reading an old story of mine, about a character called Mary-Agnes. Honestly, she's probably my favorite character that I've ever written, and yet the story feels rather badly written I wrote it so long ago. So now I'm writing a whole new story about her. Starting NaNoWriMo over again five days into it? Bad done, Emily. Badly done. (Did I really just quote Mr. Knightly, there? Yes, yes I did. Changing Emma for Emily and there we are.) How shall you ever catch up on 8,334 words while still maintaining a consistent 1,667 words a day besides that? I really don't know. All I can say is I better get back to writing.

Also, on a slightly differing creative note, I just restarted my knit dress for my knit doll. (Dear me, that's a lot of starting again on things, isn't it?) but I dropped some stitches and I needed to unravel the whole thing so there we are. I do think it's going to turn out rather cute though.

I'm listening to...

The Brave soundtrack on youtube. I really like it. It's my favorite right now.

Outside my window...

Don't you just love fall? *sentimental sigh*

One of my favorite things...

Holiday coffee cups. They're just lovely. They make me happy.

A few plans for the rest of the week...

Having a smashing good week of school, work, and being generally productive (such as writing out some essays for my college application.) Other than that NaNoWriMo takes over.

I'd also rather like to go down to Barnes and Noble since I have a gift card (Is this a yes, Mama? Yes, please?)

I'm wearing...

Jeans, a cream sweater, and a grey vintage looking hat (I'm rather in love with this hat). Also, on the subject of hairstyles I've figured out this way to put my hair up in a bun and it's really quite lovely. You twist it all up with the cuff of a sock (that you have cut down for that purpose) and tie it off with a rubber band or two. It really makes me feel quite happy.

A picture thought I'm sharing...

Did I mention we carved Avenger style pumpkins?

 

Also, (because everyone needs to get as excited for The Hobbit as I am)...

 



EVERYONE. HOBBIT. THE HOBBIT. LESS THAN TWO MONTHS. EVERYONE. THE HOBBIT. ARE YOU EXCITED? I'M EXCITED. SO EXCITED.

MARTIN FREEMAN IS THE PERFECT BILBO. HE IS ADORABLE PERFECTION. AND RICHARD ARMITAGE. MR. THORTON. DO YOU SEE HIM?

Okay, sorry, capslock.

BUT THE HOBBIT, PEOPLE. READ THE BOOK. WATCH THE TRAILER. LISTEN TO THE MUSIC. DRAW LITTLE HOBBITS IN EVERY NOTEBOOK. GAWK AT THE POSTERS. WATCH EVERY MOVIE THE ACTORS PLAYING IN IT WERE EVER IN AND TRY TO ENVISION THEM IN THEIR PARTS AS CHARACTERS IN THE HOBBIT. THE. HOBBIT.

Basically, this is amazing. At the time the Lord of the Rings movies came out I was obviously not old enough to watch, but now I'm going to have that time of waiting for each new movie and properly hyperventilating the whole time. I expect to enjoy tremendously.

Breathe, Emily, breathe.

But, you do realize how amazing this is, right?

Anyhow, must start up on some math and SAT studying. Have a lovely Monday, dear reader!

Of Knitted Dolls and Carrot Cake

I'm thinking...

At the moment I'm hiding from the morning. You might think this an impossible task, and indeed I have suspicions that while I might be fooling myself, I'm certainly not fooling anyone else, yet, still, I can't really persuade myself that it is a bad plan. I have hidden myself away from the alarm clock's persistent noise, away from the cold cold air and the horrid sunshine (not that I mean to say I dislike sunshine- I just find it entirely too cheerful in such trying times) and I'm feeling rather successful in my attempt at convincing myself that it is not morning. However, I cannot be wholly successful in this attempt, as proven by the mere fact that I am writing this rather than sleeping. As far as plans go I believe this one is as good a one as any to awaken me sufficiently to acknowledge that I must brave the cold air and get out of bed, but for the moment I shall continue to write on and hide myself away from the world under a thick quilt.
I can't quite believe it is Monday morning. How quickly days go, don't they? Really though, yesterday and the day before were just lovely days. We set out adventuring to see what we could see, and found ourselves in a set of lovely rooms looking out and across the bay to Canada. (a quick moment of recognition for the kisses blown across the wind to Canada. Really, we love Canada.) We explored the hotel, avoiding coming across the wedding group in their finery whilst attired in swimming wear. We skipped across the docks outside the hotel and danced under the billowing silken tent. We sprawled out on the couch and floor to watch the new Spider Man movie (which I enjoyed immensely. I've decided that it's now my third favorite superhero movie. I like the Avengers the very most, and then I think I like Iron Man, but after that I would say I liked The Amazing Spider Man.) In the morning we ate eggs and pancakes at a little diner (most notable for the bright yellow seat cushions and vintage signs hung willy nilly about the wall) and suddenly we were on our way home with the weekend over and done. (of course, it didn't happen so quickly as that and we had numberless wails of hunger and boredom to combat, and whist saying the rosary Ella struck up such a wail it was like praying in a hurricane.
Here we are though, safe and sound and ready to start Monday morning! Out of bed one goes and down the stairs to make some coffee.

From the kitchen...

I am fully confident that I could survive a diet of bread, butter and potatoes (just thinking ahead in case the world food supply is demolished and I need a plan. If necessary I could do away with the bread- all right the butter too since that's rather a luxury but GET THE POTATOES. If the potatoes die, I do to. Why am I not Irish?) That is, you see, what I meant to say was "I had bread and butter for breakfast this morning."

Did I mention I'm going to be making carrot cake today? I'm rather excited if you couldn't tell. I've been thinking about carrot cake for days now.

I'm creating...

My knit doll (See This Post)

She's actually almost finished. I have yet to embroider the eyes and mouth, finish knitting half an arm and sew both arms to her torso, but all in all she's almost finished.

The blue/green yarn I'm going to knit into a dress for her. Isn't it lovely? It's also very soft.

 

I've also been working out a synopsis for my NaNoWriMo story (TEN DAYS BEFORE IT STARTS) Perhaps I'll get it worked out and post it in say three days, a week before the actual challenge begins. Yes, that seems like a rather good idea.

 

I'm listening to...

 

A boy whistling, a chair moving across the floor (controlled I presume by the boy who is whistling) and some discussion going on about maps.

 

One of my favorite things...

 

Baking. (Did I mention I was making carrot cake today? Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.) I'm also feeling in the mood to make bread, but I'm not sure if that will happen today.

 

Around the house...

 

I think I need to find some warm socks and a sweater, it's rather cold this morning.

 

Picture thoughts I'm sharing...

 

 

 

 

 

I liked this quote so I wanted to add it to this post

 



 

 (Where I found it)

 

 

 

 



Crafty, Crafty Emily

Outside my window...

A window really is such an interesting thing, you know. It is like a description in a story; revealing the outside world, the scene, and yet limiting sight to a certain dimension. Here we have a window, a rectangle of limited size, and yet it frames a sight that reveals so much to us. We see the corner of a rooftop in one corner, a chimney emitting great billows of smoke that drift out of our sight and down the other side of the house. On the other side of that same window we see a row of trees, their colors bright and vibrant- reminding us that fall has come. Looking to the upper part of the window we have the sky, pale and almost white, a solid mass of cloud, making the entire scene to appear unfinished, as if an artist had left the upper half of their page blank.
If I were writing a description for a story I would be limiting myself to such important details as the window limits. I would be creating a sense of the place, the outside, without going on for pages and pages at a time. A window, a description, framing so much more than we can see, yet even from our limited sight we know it is there.

I'm thinking...

Working at the library I have a tendency to retreat into my thoughts, to create an imaginary world for myself like I always did when I was younger. I remember that even the shortest walk of those days would turn into the weary travels of a shepherd maiden with but a crust of bread to sustain her. Now, those thoughts have turned from a imaginary game, to the creating of a story yet to be written, but when you compare them they are very like. Of course I am much more concerned with the idea of plot and connection of a series of ideas to tie the whole thing together, but is there so very much difference to the creating of story then and now? Then it was a game I played; now it is the catching of ideas and characters to weave into a written story.
Whenever I don't have anything much to occupy my thoughts with, I have at least a half dozen stories that must be thought out and their endings decided.
Right now the story that occupies my mind the most is my Nanowrimo story. Up to this point the main idea has changed so much you would never connect it and my original idea. All I really know right now is that the story is to be focus on a sense of division. A division of self, a character with conflicting personality traits, and then a division in choices, as far as the character's future is concerned. I'm pretty sure that my main character will be named Elise (though this changes from day to day. Yesterday her name was Elaine, but really, I think Elise fits her better) I also have a couple other ideas for things I want to tie into the story, but I don't think I shall write them down here. I need to sort them out in my thoughts some more, and I don't want to write the whole plot out.

I'm listening to...

Bei Mir Bist Du Schon (Means That You're Grand) by the Andrew Sisters. (Yes, my obsession with their music has yet to weaken. They're still my favorite.) That reminds me though of this CD I brought home from the library yesterday, they (supposedly) make an appearance on it. It's actually a radio program with Abbott and Costello from when they (the Andrews Sisters) were very popular. I'm excited to try it out and see what it's like.

I'm creating...

Oh dear. Did I mention that I'm in an extreme crafting mood? Especially knitting. I've been trying out all sorts of different knitting techniques and perfecting them. Originally I was just making little swatches of knitted patterns, but then I decided that I would really love to make little knitted jumpers and things, but before I could do that I would need to make a little knitted doll to wear those jumpers and miniature hats and flowers and things. So I googled for knitted doll patterns and I found the dearest doll ideas. (weefolkart.com)

Look aren't they the dearest things? Can't you just picture with a wee little knitted jumper with a sweet little ruffle at the hem?

And look with those sweet little embroidered eyes and mouth? *squee* (but truthfully I would prefer hair of one colour. Maybe I'm unimaginative. Oh but if it were to be put into braids! Wouldn't that be lovely?)

(*edit* I previously had pictures from their post, but on second thought as I'm not very sure about copyright so I'll just let you all go to the site itself and look at the lovely pictures there. Do go and see. They're adorable. I'll post a picture when it's my own creation to share)

...and now I desperately (yes, my dear, I do know the italics make me sound dramatic, but aren't they just necessary? Okay, I'm going to stop now- but they're just so much fun. Putting undue stress on a certain word in your sentence. Quite.) need to go to a yarn shop and buy a nice large darning needle and and some soft cream yarn.

I can make all my jumpers and things from my "extra" yarn in my knitting bag, but honestly, isn't the cream simply necessary. I see you agree with me. How sensible of you.

I'm reading... Well, I was going to say something about the books I'm actually reading, but then the words "I'm reading" reminded me that I really need to finish this up so I can read the history chapters I'm supposed to read after writing this. So- I'm reading history chapters?

Some picture thoughts I'm sharing...

A picture of Ella and I that Mom took the other day. I rather like it.

 

 

And then I took a picture of the leaves on the ground. I like it because it just focuses up in that one area, which I think is neat.

 

 

A few plans for the rest of the week...

 

Not getting distracted? (*cough* riiiiiiight. Somehow after my knitting story that doesn't sound so convincing, does it? Did I mention I woke up in the middle of the night with a knitting needle in my hair? Yes.) I'm very excited for next weekend because I don't work and we're planning on doing something fun. Perhaps I shall write a post on it. (as well as writing up all those letters I'm behind on. YES. THAT IS THE PLAN.)

 

October: A Month for Sweaters and Not for Bare Feet

I’m thinking…

If you were to ask me why my brothers and I are more often to be found without shoes than with, I would, no doubt, attempt to convince you that we are part hobbit. Sadly (or not, depending on your perspective of the matter) in other respects our feet would be described as quite ordinary as feet go. They are not of disproportionate size in relation to the rest of us (though, some might consider that debatable when taking into consideration the long history of outgrown shoes through the years. However, you might say that point is irrelevant as the history is not restricted to mere footwear, but also pants and shirts as well. Apparently it is quite a common affliction, but of it’s being unremarkable you shall never convince me. What a strange thing is the human child that one moment it is but a foot or two in length and all of a sudden it is doubling and tripling in size, with more arms and legs then it knows what to do with.) That our feet are also free of hair may also be considered a curse or a blessing. Yet, for all that, a case may be made that our feet were created with an inordinate preference to remain unburdened by those objects of oppression and repression: shoes. Through the summer months this preference is indulged (though frowned upon) by those in higher rank, but come fall and winter, such a preference becomes highly unacceptable. For while hobbit feet (calling them by their rightful name) are resistant to such things as cold, sharp objects and uneven surfaces, adult forces consider the cold winds of fall to be a thing that feet should not meet unarmed and bare of defenses. Hobbit feet like nothing better than to wiggle their toes in icy damp grass and skip over mud puddles, yet those in possession of Hobbit feet must be made to realize that October is a month for sweaters and not (more is the pity) for bare feet. So, oh Hobbit feet of mine, resign yourself to imprisonment in the months to come.

However, I assure you, you will find this imprisonment made much the better upon discovering the new pair of beautiful vintage heels (that I have yet to find, but I will. I will) unreservedly yours.

I’m reading…

Due to the arrival of books ordered some while ago through interlibrary-loan all other reading goals have been put on hold until such a time that I finish the said Agatha Christie’s. For, as I have learned through hard experience, interlibrary-loans must be returned in state at the end of their designated time- they wait for no one, not even a very eager reader with several other books she “must finish first.” When interlibrary-loans make their appearance they are moved to position one on any reading list.

 

 

 I’m wearing…

Rather obnoxiously large fleece socks, (created, I believe, to be worn in rubber boots, but as they happen to be the warmest pair in my drawer, they are the favored ones) which clash, might I add, rather horrendously with my peasant style blue dress. Thrown over my lap, a pink fuzzy blanket (as with the socks, of disorientate, rather obnoxious size.) and my hair is pulled together by a (no, not a silk ribbon, sadly.) but a rubber band.

A few plans for the rest of the week…

My plans for this week mostly involve being the most devoted and studious of students, going to bed and getting up at the approved times and studying very hard on such subjects as Math and my SAT textbook. I am also considering taking up this challenge for October that my Mom just told me about, where you write a post in letter form for every day of the month. Also, Wednesday is Mom’s birthday, a tremendous occasion for joyous celebration and felicitations. I’m hoping that my new dress arrives sooner than it’s predicted date (October 8^th) but even if it doesn’t, I’m quite excited for it to come, and as I mentioned somewhere above, I should rather like to find some lovely vintage heels to go with.

One of my favorite things…

Okay, so I kind of just want to ramble about Doctor Who a little and this seems as good a place as any? So…yes, I really like Doctor Who now. I was first attracted to it (as might have been predicted) by yes, the characters. My favorites are Rory and Amy from season five through their last episode that aired last week (insert dramatic sobbing). I’ve always loved Rory; he’s the Sam of Doctor Who. All that is loyal and honest and good, never wavering in his love of Amy and his resolve to keep her safe forever and always (and sometimes in the beginning you wonder why) but now that Amy’s full story arch has finished I’ve come to appreciate her more. Rory has always been and will always be himself, Rory, dear, lovable, bumbling, adorable Rory, but Amy grew and matured over her episodes. She went from a still childish girl who was willing to runaway on her wedding night with the Doctor and travel through time and space without a thought, to someone who had built a life for herself and Rory and knew that was the most important thing in the world to her, more important than adventuring and living out a fairytale. She went from little Amelia Pond, to Amy Williams, Rory’s wife, who had a life of her own apart from the Doctor, a life filled like any other with its hardships and troubles but all that was worth it to her because she had Rory. (I just have a lot of attachment and ramblings about the Ponds after Saturday’s episode. I…sobbed…) The thing I love about Doctor Who is that there is so much variation to it. It’s the story of a madman and a box, that takes him anywhere through time and space and so it’s a little bit of everything. It has it’s goofy moments (Bowties. Bowties are cool.), sweet, funny, scary (did I mention the weeping angels. I mean. Scary.) and just all round fun. Anyways, I’ve probably rambled enough about Doctor Who. On to the next.

 

 

(And this was just really cute so I'm posting.  Source)

 Outside my window…

 A lovely Fall day, where the sun is shining, the leaves are just beginning to yellow, and the sky appears very blue.

 

 Around the house…

 Well actually, I’d much prefer a fall walk today than anything I could be doing around the house. Not that reading in my bed doesn’t sound lovely (but when doesn’t it?) and it’s such a lovely day. Yes, a fall walk sounds rather particularly nice.

 I’m listening to…

 A celtic song on Pandora. It’s called “Citi Na Gcumman” if you happened to be wondering. (Oh, I figured out how to link it! That's really cool, okay, I didn't know you could do that. That's neat!) 

 A picture thought I’m sharing…