I know, I know. It's a New Year.

Welcome to 2015. Enjoy your stay!

Last year, I made a list of resolutions to keep for 2014. Do you want to know how I did?

1. Finish at least half of my TBR pile. (The whole pile is numbering close to fifty, now.) 
2. Paint my room over. (It's my little sister's old room, and the most atrocious yellow color. Also, she left a few foul-mouthed messages written across them.)
3. Get my driver's license. (I've only got my learner's permit right now.)
4. Turn 18 years old in April. (That one should be easy to keep.)
5. Graduate in June. (Also easy. I'm pretty much guaranteed it at this point, as long as I keep showing up to school.) 
6. Work on my knitting. (As in, at least every week. Right now, it's looking pretty sad.)
7. Work on clay. (Something I've always wanted to do, but now that I have clay and space to work with it, I find myself reluctant to start.)
8. Put up some puzzles. (I have half a dozen of them sitting around my room.)

#1 -- No. My TBR list grew, if anything. Sadly, my local B&N has closed, as of a few days ago, and now my source of books has become mainly libraries. Happily, there is a library in the small town not too far away from my college, and they have an agreement with my college library -- so I don't even have to leave school grounds to turn in/pick up books!
#2 -- No. It is still yellow. But now that room is my mom's office, and so it is her problem now.
#3 -- No. I still have my learner's permit. Perhaps I shall always have it.
#4 -- Yes. I did manage to turn 18, at least.
#5 -- Yes. I did manage to graduate, It was great, somewhat.
#6 -- No. They even have a knitting group at my college, and I never remember to go. I keep thinking, maybe next week.
#7 -- No-ish. I worked on it once. This past December. And it never came to anything, because my parents are too busy to dig out the kiln and help me fire it.
#8 -- No. They are still here, waiting to be put up. Maybe I'll get around to it this week. Maybe not.

So there you have it. 2/8 of my resolutions last year. Aren't I wonderful at keeping promises. So, what's new this year? My resolutions? They are not quite new, I suppose, they are the same things I have been resolving to do for a long time. Namely:

1. Exercise more. (Say, more than once a month.)
2. Go back to college, study more. (Incur even more debts in the process...)
3. Blog more often. (It's been awhile -- where did December go?)
4. Eat healthier. (Not too hard at college, but near impossible in my own home.)
5. Get out of my (dorm) room more often. (There are plenty of concerts and such like at college.)
6. Play more video games. (Which does not usually feature on people's resolutions, I gather.)
7. Make some jewelry. (I have plenty of pendants, not enough chains, wire, or pliers.)
8. Keep my living spaces cleaner. (Everything I come into contact with becomes cluttered.)

I have a nice schedule next semester, so I'm looking forward to it. Only 13 credit hours, instead of the 16.5 I had last semester. (12 is the lowest required number of credit hours to be considered a full-time student.)

What else? My blogging, I hope, will flourish under a lesser school load. It doesn't seem likely, though, since as you can see, video games is another one of my resolutions. I think I might be able to keep more of them this year. My college is pretty big, land-wise (over 3,000 acres), though there aren't many people (the Class of 2018, my class, is less than 150 people). That means it takes exercise to get anywhere -- it takes about a 5 minute walk to get up to the library, for example, but it's quite hilly and there are a great number of steps in the way. (Did I mention those 3,000 acres are nestled a penny's throw from the mountains?)

The one I think I will have the most trouble with is the last one. I can never summon up enough energy to clean things, unless I am feeling sick. It's odd, I know, but if I am nauseous I will feel this urge to get up and clean the bathroom, or organize my desk, or do my laundry. Luckily, by the end of fall semester I found a new study place that I love -- the laundry room in the basement of my dorm building. It isn't usually busy, and the sound of the laundry machines is soothing. There isn't much in the way of desks or chairs, of course, but there is a nice table under which I can sit and go unnoticed (for the most part).

2014... is over. I am glad. I am scared, too, because I do not know what the new year will bring -- for the first time, I dreaded the new year coming, because can it really be better? The unthinkable has already happened, but is this one of those things where it has to get even worse before it gets better? I hope not. I hope I am allowed a break, to have a happy and healing year. Or if not happy, then at least the latter. The new year will bring what it may, but I hope for a few pauses in which to simmer and boil and have my grief come from an unfinished state to something whole. A part of me, rather than a piercing thorn in my heart.

So, here is a toast to the old year -- a picture of Odin and Mary Shelley. If you scroll through my old posts, you will see a couple pictures of them. They died November 2014 -- just a couple months ago. My older sister -- a wonderful, eccentric person -- was heading to her apartment in Lynchburg when she -- well, they said she must have dozed at the wheel; it was late at night -- she hit a tree. She and her two cats all died. It's been tough, these past few months. But it is the start of a new year, and I don't think Chelsea would have been pleased to have me mope about, doing nothing -- she always used to complain about that. I set a list of things I think would be simple enough to put into practice, and I lowered my credit hours to 13... and I can only hope that with this simplifying of my life, I can find the time to do my life well.

Have a blessed day, and have a happy new year.

Odin.

Mary Shelley. 

Thanksgiving. (Yesterday's Account.)

I am thankful for my family, (though we are reeling from loss).
I am thankful for my life, (though I am hurting).
I am thankful for the roof over my head, (though it's painful to be home).
I am thankful for my health, (though I've had a cold this week).
I am thankful for my books, (though I can't escape myself completely in them anymore).
I am thankful for my college, (though it is painful to be there, as well).
I am thankful for --
For --

I am thankful for my faith and belief in God and Jesus, (because without that, I would truly go mad.)

Angel (left), Tumble (right)

Martin Luther King Jr. Day

Hello, people, and happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day. :)

To be honest, I know little about him, only as much as any average public school student might discern from your average history class: that he was a famous civil right's activist, he did this great speech in which, at some point, he says, "I have a dream!" Etc.

It makes me a little sad, that such a name, spoken with such awe and respect as it is, is barely known to me. Sometimes, I just want to look him up, study every inch of his life: why, what made this man stand up and say something, when so many others didn't or couldn't? What makes his name so famous, when others, just as great, blend into the background of history?

And other times, I think to myself, Why can't I remember him as I like to remember historical figures, as little things all mixed up together -- why can't I see the things like what he had for breakfast every morning, and how much or little he loved his kids, and what sort of job he had for a living, besides writing speeches and standing up against the white folks, since I can't imagine either of those pastimes making a lot of money.

This is my major problem with learning a limited amount of what-happens-in-the-real-world: I end up split two ways, between studying the emotionality of his public persona and the tiny details that make up every inch of his ordinary life. Why they can't teach such stuff in classrooms, I don't know; all I know is the limited amount of information I am given, the amount you would expect history classes named such vague terms as "world history" and "AP US history."

I suppose I have a dream, too, and that's to learn more about the people behind the historical figures. And I wish I could say I will start with Martin Luther King, Jr., as he seems like an interesting, bold sort of person to have known, and even after his death there must be accounts somewhere. But I grudgingly have an AP biology test on cellular respiration, an AP government test on the presidency, and other such non-specifically-person-oriented things to study for.

Happy remembrance, people. And have a blessedly free day.

"Resolutions" I Might Actually Keep

It's the first day of 2014, guys. The ending of a year, the beginning of one. I suppose I should be happy for a clean slate this year, but we all know that in school, it's not "clean." I still have to do my projects from before break. (Namely, and AP Lit project on WW1 and a textbook assignment from AP Bio.)

But I don't want that to spoil my first few days, at least. And my last few days of break. And since I didn't finish reading the book I told myself I'd finish yesterday, I think I'll post some of my New Year's Resolutions.

(As a side note: why do they call them "resolutions?" You've resolved to do something, yes, but you rarely get around to them. So aren't they more under the category of, "Promises I Only Intended to Keep?")

Anyways. I hope to:

1. Finish at least half of my TBR pile. (The whole pile is numbering close to fifty, now.) 
2. Paint my room over. (It's my little sister's old room, and the most atrocious yellow color. Also, she left a few foul-mouthed messages written across them.)
3. Get my driver's license. (I've only got my learner's permit right now.)
4. Turn 18 years old in April. (That one should be easy to keep.)
5. Graduate in June. (Also easy. I'm pretty much guaranteed it at this point, as long as I keep showing up to school.) 
6. Work on my knitting. (As in, at least every week. Right now, it's looking pretty sad.)
7. Work on clay. (Something I've always wanted to do, but now that I have clay and space to work with it, I find myself reluctant to start.)
8. Put up some puzzles. (I have half a dozen of them sitting around my room.)

This seems like a rather paltry list, and doesn't even include my writing resolutions, but it towers over me with all the menace of Cerberus.* I'm not used to proactively doing things for myself. I read a book, I wait for someone to order me to do chores. Watch some documentaries on TV. I barely even do my homework for myself.

Which is why I've set the threshold so low. Some puzzles, working with clay, turning 18 years old. Though, really, these are all big milestones. At 18, I'm officially an adult. Officially Not a Child Anymore. And I have an entire lifetime in which I have to proactively do things for myself. So I've got to get a head start a few months beforehand.

This post seems rather serious to me, for a day we're all supposed to be celebrating. There are no exclamation points, no smilie faces. Just talk of my plans. I've never been good at humor or light-hearted material.

But I suppose that's what New Year's is about. The beginning of a year, and talk of what's going to be done. (Or what might be done.)

Have a blessed Wednesday, New Year's, and life, everyone.

*Cerberus the three-headed dog from the Underworld in Greek mythology. It's extra menacing because I'm not overly-fond of dogs, since we own an Australian Shepherd who barks at everyone but my mother.

Zazu says to keep to your resolutions.

A Recap of 2013

Hello, and happy... Monday. I can't even remember if today is the last day of December or the next-to-last day. Either way, I won't be posting another post on this blog until 2014. :)

I decided to go through my archives and pick out some of my favorite posts from this year, separated into categories. So, here you go:

Books:
My favorite re-read: I re-read The Warriors Saga by Erin Hunter over the summer, and it is every bit as amazing as I remember from middle school.  The Hobbit comes as a close second.

The Book That (Pleasantly) Surprised Me the Most: The Lost Conspiracy by Frances Hardinge, while expecting it to be the cumbersome, over-500-pages-long MG fantasy that it is, had the most fantastic worldbuilding and characters. The Apprentice's Masterpiece by Melanie Little comes as a close second.

The Book That (Unpleasantly) Surprised Me: Inside by Maria Snyder had a good premise, but the romance detracted from it for me. 


Literary Stuff:
I wrote on Strong Female Characters, and what they are, though I include many self-conscious "in my opinion..."s.

For the sake of Diversity! I talked about the diversity of characters and people.

I explained the difference between the fantasy and paranormal genres.

You can read my picking apart an argument of YA vs. Epic Fantasy.

And, ever important on my blog, my views on romance (and why I don't like it).


Other Stuff:
A selection of my music (without links; you'll have to look them up on Youtube yourself).

I explained my dealings with photography-- specifically, photograms. 

I watched a documentary on Ancient Japan.

Also, I watched a documentary on Lipizzaner horses. I watch a lot of documentaries.

This is my list in summary. I watch documentaries, listen to music, and read too many (but not enough) books. You can look at any or none of these posts, but they're my favorites of this year. If you have any comments, you can post them to this post!

Have a blessed end of the year! 

It's Christmas.

Last night
"Ouch!" I yelp, as I take the chicken out of the toaster oven.
"You alright?" Mom asks, looking up from what she's doing. 
"I just didn't expect the juice to run out of the aluminum foil," I mutter, as I quickly pull the other packet onto a cookie sheet. I pull the one I dropped onto the sheet, as well. Now I can put the chicken slices (breasts? Pieces?) out of the way.
The Pillsbury crescents that I just rolled up wait on a paper plate. I place a fresh sheet of aluminum foil over the rack, spray liberally with butter spray, and place the clumsy rolls in four rows of two, trying to ignore the prickly I-suck-at-this feeling. My hands are greasy from rolling the store-bought dough triangles, and now they're even more gross as I stick them on the sheet. Spray the tops liberally, as well.
As Mom calls everyone to dinner, I help myself. A small portion of fresh-made mashed potatoes. A small bit of ham; a small bit of chicken. I have to wait for the crescents. I refuse to let the boiled bok-choy near my plate. I'm not even perfectly sure what it is, other than sort of smelly and white and green-leafy.
We don't even say prayer, even though my Pentacostal grandfather is right there. He had a heart attack recently. We make food without too much sodium for him. We just tuck in.
It's not much, what's on my plate. Everyone else -- my three sisters, two brothers, my mother and father and my father's father -- all pile their plate. My dinner doesn't even cover the paper plate. But I manage to eat most it, except for a small bit of the ham. I don't have ham often enough to really like the taste.

Christmas is one of everybody's favorite holidays. Am I sick of the commercialization, and how this is the corporations' and businesses' favorite holidays because they want to sell-sell-sell? Yes. Am I ranting about it today? No.

In fact, I am not sure what I want to say today, at all. I received a laptop, two things of chocolate, and this crocheted book-pillow, on which I can prop my book. (My mother is a very big arts-and-crafts sort of person.) I feel kind of scooped out, with the whole smiling and speaking a thanks, the whole Christmas charade ending, and the magic of December grinding to a halt. Cold, dry days from here through the early weeks of March, with little to look forward to.

Still, at the same time, I kind of hope -- as I do almost every year -- that I could extend such magic -- such happiness and snow-sparkled dreams and closeness-to-God feeling. Through the drudge of school and homework and writing and reading, no time for staring at the ceiling, for doing nothing. Late nights, turning the lights out with my glasses still on until I remember to take them off.

Do I have a definite plan this year for such an intangible goal? No. I never do. And if I did, I probably wouldn't stick to them. It's mostly read through the fifty-or-so books on my to-be-read list, try to do my homework on time, take the free online classes I signed up for for January.

I would like to make some time for clay working. I have about 25 lb of gray clay, found at my local Michaels store (conveniently located just a short walk from my local Barnes and Noble). To make my days a little easier to swallow, I would like to play with clay, like a little kid; no artsy goal in mind, just squish it in my hands and feel absurdly pleased at the lines of gray caking in the lines in my hands.

The trouble is, I like doing nothing. I like staring at the ceiling, doing nothing, almost more than I like playing with clay or paint like a little kid, which is why that clay has been sitting in its cardboard box container since September. I just don't have that quality nothing time; I hate cutting into it.

So, here's to an ending and a beginning. The ending of a deep, special season, and the beginnings of a bridge to holding to the feelings. I'm using clay and a time for nothing. What are you doing?

Have a blessed Christmas, a lovely Wednesday, and a very merry day.

This Morning 
I wake up very uncomfortable at 8:00 am. This is mostly due to my sister.
Since my grandfather gets my room while he stays the night, I have to share with the older of my two younger sisters. Cosmetics, half-empty soda bottles, and junk food wrappers lay scattered with the overwhelming amount of clothes. The whole room smells septic and close, like too much perfume and moldy food crammed together.
And, of course, this is not the worst part of sleeping in a strange, smelly, crowded-with-food-and-clothes room. My sister stays up until 1:00 am. On her phone. Laughing as she scrolls through facebook videos, which I can vaguely hear through her earphones. And because she's pulled the sheet away, I'm lying on the scratchy mattress, awake until too early.
But when I finally get up, it's a relief. A minuscule amount of presents are underneath the beach-themed Christmas tree. Ma, who was sick last night, asks me to wrap the last of the Christmas presents in her workroom. I do so gladly. It's too early to read my book or watch the crime documentary softly pontificating from the TV. 
When we're finally all gathered together -- 9:30 am -- Dad starts handing out presents, like he does every Christmas. A laptop; a card from Granddad, with a one-hundred dollar bill and a small box of Godiva chocolates. A leopard puzzle, a bag of mini Kit-Kats, wall stickers of butterflies. The Arabian Nights. 
Everyone's rustling the wrapping paper as they rip it away to reveal their gifts; they're joking, saying thanks, exclaiming if it's a good present. Our living room feels small with nine people unwrapping gifts in it.
Everything is over before 10:00 am. I smile, thank everyone, retreat to Rebecca's room, the kitchen table, Mom's workroom; all day, wherever there's fewest people, so I can get on the laptop or read my book or knit.
The season ends just like that -- with the opening of a few presents. With the ripping away of wrapping paper, which looked pretty when we couldn't see what was inside, but now looks just crumpled and throwaway.
I want to hold onto this. I don't want this to be it, over with the exposure of what's beneath the paper; but how do I hold mystery and excitement and magic when the paper's been torn away? I guess the closest I get is to hold onto something I know little about. Clay -- violin -- books I've never read, knitting that I am new at. The possibilities have to keep going, don't they?