A Post About Star Wars...I Mean...New Years

Do you know that scene from Star Wars Episode III where Anakin and Obi Wan are fighting in that fiery lava pit? Yeah, that one where Obi Wan has basically dismembered Anakin, cutting off both his legs and one arm, and he yells to him, “But you were my brother Anakin! I loved you!” And Anakin, despite the fact that he’s missing three limbs and is lying in a pile of hot coals, in no position to piss Obi Wan off any further, shouts back, “I hate you!” It’s a horrible, pain-filled, tragic scene, and you know that there is no way that anything good can come from it.

That was what 2013 felt like.

Let’s just let that sink in for a moment.

Got it?

Good.

I don’t think I’ve ever looked forward to a new year as much as I am looking forward to 2014. I am just praying for a better year. If you know me at all or have been following my blog, then you’ve probably got a pretty good idea of what’s been happening, so I won’t rehash. What I will do, though, in the spirit of not being a complete Debbie Downer, is that I will tell you what I learned and what I gained through 2013:

·         A degree in English

·         A career using my degree

·         Ballet training

·         The knowledge of how not to “cast my pearls before swine,” as the Bible says

·         A much greater appreciation for my three best friends and the realization that so few people ever have even one friendship that is as strong as the friendships the four of us girls share together

·         The ability to discern a real friend from a fake one who is only trying to use me

·         The knowledge that I am much stronger than I ever realized

·         A new understanding of loyalty

·         The ability to not base my happiness off of another person’s opinion

·         Encouragement straight from God

·         A renewed faith in humanity after perfect strangers paid for my dinner once

·         The ability to say goodbye to harmful influences in my life

·         The knowledge that there still is (so much!)magic in the world

·         And the realization that I will go on living, I will keep loving even though it’s hard, and that God will never, ever desert me, even when everyone else might.

Happy New Year everyone.

Loyalty: Another Outspoken Rant

Loyalty. What does it mean to you? When you think about your best friends, does the word come to mind?

It does for me. To me, loyalty means:

·       Picking a side and sticking to it

·       Standing with someone even if that person is wrong

·       Being there for an individual no matter what he or she has done

·       Never abandoning the person you love

I think that’s a really beautiful word with an equally beautiful meaning. It makes me think of a conversation I had with my best friend a few nights ago when we were having a sleepover. I turned to her and said, “You know, no matter what happens, who you date, or what you do, I am always going to be on your side.”

Granted, that doesn't mean I have to agree with or believe that my friends are making the best or even the right choice, but what it does mean is that I've got their backs.

Sure, I can still tell them that I think they’re making the wrong choice, because there is nothing wrong with voicing one’s opinion. However, even if I think my best friends have made a mistake, you better bet your shiny, $200 boots that I’m going to back them up. Why? Because they are my friends. Because I believe in them. Because I love them. Because I am loyal to them. And no amount of boyfriends and break ups, choices and life experiences are going to change any of that.

That is what being a real, true, loyal friend means. And if it means that sometimes I’m standing behind someone who has made a bad decision, oh well. At the end of the day, I have what is really important: true friends who are just as loyal to me.

Because you know what? That is what makes a friendship worth it, knowing you can count on that one person to be in your corner, knowing that person isn't going to flip-flop on you the moment he or she doesn't agree with your side anymore. That is not a true friend. That is a shallow imitation of a friend. Even in the Bible Christ said, “He who is not with Me is against Me” (Matthew 12:30). If you do not stand for someone as well as fall with him, then you are really his enemy. 

And today, I’m proud to say that I know exactly who my true, loyal friends are. And I thank each and every one of you. If you go down, I’m going down too.

And heck. At least we’ll keep each other company.  

My Outspoken Feminist Post

Dear ladies,

If I hear the phrase “ring by spring,” one more time, someone is going to get hurt. Don’t you remember back when women didn’t have the opportunity to go to college, or at least, not the same colleges as the men attended?

No? Well, it happened.

In the past, a lot of women were denied higher education simply because of their gender, because they were expected to marry, stay at home, and raise children. There is nothing wrong with this at all, in fact, I think being a stay-at-home mom is awesome. But…what about education? What about bettering yourself and your mind?

Well, these women, our not-so-far-back ancestors, fought and pushed so that we can now go to college and have a real career. It’s not about “keeping up with the men.” What it is about is using the brains that God gave us and having a chance to think for ourselves.

So, if you’re only going to college to get your MRS. then I’m really sorry for you. Not only are you scoffing in the faces of the women who fought hard to have a chance at a higher education, but you are also missing out on a really amazing opportunity.

So go, finish your education. If you happen to meet Mr. Right in the process, that is fantastic. But please, don’t let that be your reason for attending college.

Sincerely,

A College Graduate

Wet Shoes and Wandering Souls

It was December 6^th, just a few days ago, and despite the fact that the sun had already set in Virginia, it was still 75 degrees. I couldn't handle being inside on a night like that, so I asked a friend to join me, and we decided to go to the ocean.

I've never been to the ocean at night before. The wind was warm as we got out of the car and made our way through the grassy dunes towards the water. He took off his shoes, I made my way through the sand, feeling the grains infiltrating through the cracks in my sneakers.

It was dark, the kind of dark where even the full moon behind us wasn't bright enough to eliminate the foggy, hazy darkness in front of my face. Before my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I was half-tempted to reach out for my friend’s hand; a childhood fear of the dark unknown gripped me for only a few seconds.

But then it was gone.

I could hear the sound of the sea as it heaved and roared in the night. Suddenly I realized that I hadn't seen it, this dear old friend, in months, and I had missed it so much. I thought about how it had continued its daily rituals without me and I felt as if I had missed out, like how a parent must feel when he or she has missed a significant part of a child’s life.

But now, I was back again, breathing in the salty air, clutching my coat to my throat, trying to keep the chilled air from getting too close to my skin. And all of a sudden everything was alright again. I was reunited with my love, and I could feel my soul, which had been tied up tightly within my chest all week, release into the open air, where it was allowed to fly and wander freely…

(…That is until my friend pushed me into the water, thus getting my shoes wet as well as sandy…)

But it was enough. It was enough to be close to the sea again. It was enough to feel my soul released. And it was enough to be that close to God, even for those few moments.

My Prayer.

Maybe I'm crazy because I still carry your Chapstick in my pocket.

Sometimes I put it on my lips, because it tastes like you.

Often I look down at my left hand and sigh because it's much too light. 

And I remember how we would have said our "I do's" just a week from now. 

But every night, when I say my prayers, I say a special one for you. 

It's not bitter. I'm no longer angry.

I simply ask God that He'll bless you and keep you,

And that someday you'll  do great things for Him. 

The Story of a Working Man

He looked up one day from his computer screen, and across the room of his spacious office, his eyes falling upon the proofs of his accomplishments: his various honors, diplomas, and degrees. And he sighed, because he had traded in his first love for the dreams forged by another person. He altered his plans and built goals to suit his wallet rather than his heart. And then one cold December day, he realized that he had achieved everything he ever wanted, only to realize that he never actually wanted any of this at all.

He didn't want money, only enough to live. But people had told him that he needed it.

He didn't want prosperity, not the kind that he now had, the kind that made him miserable.

He didn't want acclaim, but he had been told that it would make him happy.

So today he sits in an office, his soul tied up in his chest, waiting for 5:00 before it was allowed to soar again. And he wonders what it would have been like if he had followed his heart and done exactly what he pleased. Would he have failed? Maybe. But knowing that he had tried, might make up for it. At least, this is what he told himself. But…Is it too late now?

Maybe not. 

Tran-scen-dental.

Today I had an interesting discussion with a friend. We were talking about eras and movements, namely Postmodernism and Transcendentalism. He was looking at them from a social phenomenon and philosophy point of view, and I from a literature standpoint.

I began to tell him my interest in Transcendentalism, and how I have always felt like I identified with it a little. Granted, I know that their ideas of communes and separating out of society to get closer to nature don’t really work, especially from an economic point of view (yeah yeah … I know, we all need trade and economic stimulation, and work incentive…). I get that. Yet, there is something about that idea of utopia, that idyllic way of life that has always intrigued me.

And then it hit me: Utopia.

Utopia means “paradise” or “heaven.” I think that what I love about the whole Transcendentalist movement is the whole concept of living in a utopia. This of course is not something that will ever be possible on this flawed earth with us, a flawed people. But, someday, I know that I will reach that utopia. Now don’t freak out. I’m talking about heaven, with God, you know in a biblical sense.

I think that we all have an inward desire for heaven, a desire to be with God. Even those who don’t know God feel that desire because we were all designed by the same Creator. Why do you think we all long for world peace? We want that sense that we are safe, that everything is alright, and that it’s always going to BE alright.

It’s a very human longing, and I think that’s what I identify with most in the concept of Transcendentalism. I do love nature, and I do love the idea of peace here on earth, but I know that the real peace, the kind that will last forever—that “utopia” is still yet to come.

And I am looking forward to it.

Cope

Google the definition of the word “cope,” and this is what you get:

It means to just deal. To just get up every day and go through the motions until you are no longer aware that you have to consciously make yourself do these things.

I really like that word, and I think it’s a perfect word to express how so many people live their day-to-day lives. We’re all asked, “How are you today?” And we almost always say “I’m alright,” or “I’m doing well.” Few of us are fully honest. I have one friend who usually answers, “Well I’m alive. And that is good.”

Yes it is good.

I think in a way, her answer is probably one of the most honest. Because sometimes, we are just alive. We are just coping. And that’s perfectly alright. 

Lies...Lies of the Devil.

Do you ever get the feeling that you’re just not good enough? That maybe you’re too damaged to ever be loved by anyone?

Lies. Lies of the Devil.

I feel that way, especially lately. In a culture that’s so centered around male/female love and sex, there is so much pressure to find “the one,” and to get married so that you can finally obtain that “true love,” that all the movies are talking about.

I've bitten the apple and swallowed the belief myself. I fight against it because my inner feminist won’t take that lying down, but it’s still there all the same.

I went through two bad relationships this year. One you all know about because I talked about him a lot earlier in the year. Well, I got over than and forgave him. The second was in some ways worse than the first because he led me on, and then started seeing another girl while he was still with me, seeing me...kissing me. Yeah. On top of that, when we were dating, he didn't tell anyone about me. It was as if he was ashamed of me, hiding me away from the world.

I got used. I got played. Being hidden away like that, and then cheated on made me feel as if I was useless, unloved, worthless.

But that can’t be right…right?

Right.

Why is it that I can’t seem to find my worth in God, where I’m supposed to find it? Often, I think that’s because I feel as if I’m not good enough for Him either. And let’s face it. I’m not. No one is. But see, that’s the thing. God loves me regardless of the stupid stuff I do. He loves me in my anger, in my hurt, in my sin, in my bitterness. And let me tell you, that’s more unconditional love than I’m ever going to get from any guy.

And no, this isn't one of those “I’m never dating again,” posts, because as friends have said in describing me before, “She really likes boys.” Yeah. I’m not done by a long shot. I’ll keep dating and maybe someday I’ll find somebody good.

But in the meantime, I’m going to keep getting up in the morning, I’m going to keep going to work. I’m going to keep being happy (because that’s a choice), and I’m going to keep putting my desires, needs, and sense of self-worth back in God’s hands, even if I have to place them there every freaken day. Because that is where that belongs.

No one is too broken or messed up for God to fix. And you know what? He’s not finished with me yet.

"They Can't Take That Away From Me"

Back when I first began ballet, we did a recital piece to the song “They Can’t Take That Away From Me.” I think that Frank Sinatra sang the version that we used. It has lyrics that have always sort of echoed in the back of my mind since I was 12, but I never really thought about them before.

This morning, for some reason, the lyrics came to mind again. The song goes:

We may never, never meet again

On that bumpy road to love

Still I'll always,

Always keep the memory of...

The way you hold your knife.

The way we danced until three.

The way you've changed my life.

No, no - they can't take that away from me.

No, they can't take that away from me.

Recently, for the first time this year, I've been able to think about my lost love without pain. And it’s been such a relief. In doing so, I realize that there are a lot of things about my almost-forever romance that I’m never going to forget. And in a way, it’s almost nice to think back and remember how I had it *“good and perfect for a little while.”

And even if I never feel that way again, it was nice to know that it happened once.

*Name the movie this quote is from, and you get all sorts of brownie points!

A Visit from Nations - A Scene from My Novel

This is a small section from my upcoming novel, "The Day Nations Cried."

This scene is a flashback to the past when my main character, Caillet, was young. She is in training to be a "Soul Bearer" (a person born with the special gift of being able to draw people's soul mates for them). Marjory, her aunt, is raising her, but Nations, The Guardian of the Soul Bearers doesn't approve of how she is teaching Caillet.

Note: Caillet is pronounced "Kah-lay."

~

“You have a special gift, Caillet.” Marjory whispered into the ear of the eight-year-old girl in her lap as they sat together in a rocking chair. Caillet shook her unruly curls and looked up at the speaker. “Aunt Margi,” she said, in a childish attempt to whisper that was anything but quiet, “I’m a Soul Bearer!”

“Yes, dear, just like I’ve always told you. You have a special ability.”

Despite her age, Caillet was petite and small, allowing her to still be held and coddled. Caillet rocked her body back and forth on her aunt’s lap, trying to get the rocking motion of the chair started again. Taking the hint, Marjory began to tip the chair back and forth with her foot, gently.

“I will be able to draw,” Caillet said, in another failed attempt at a whisper.

“Of course, dear. Soon you will be able to draw so many faces, each one with a personality and a name to match. You will be able to give them to people, and then those people will go out into the world and find their soul mate.”

“Aunt Margi, what is a soul mate?”

“A soul mate is someone who a person is meant to be with forever and ever. A soul mate is someone you love.”

“Are you my soul mate?” Caillet asked, looking up again into her aunt’s face. “I love you.”

Marjory’s face tightened for a moment, and then released the micro expression. “No dear. That isn’t how it works. Soul Bearers will never have soul mates.”

“Never have soul mates,” Caillet repeated back as she fidgeted with the lace on the hem of her nightgown. “Never have soul mates,” she repeated again. “Aunt Marji, can I go play outside?”

“May I go play outside,” Marjory corrected.

“May I go play outside?” Caillet repeated.

“No dear. It’s dark out and nearly time for bed.” Carefully, Marjory arose, lifting the little girl in her arms, and carried her to the little canopy bed against the wall. Caillet went willingly and without a fuss, allowing her aunt to tuck her in under the covers.

Turning out the lights, Marjory looked back towards where the little girl lay drowsily under a heap of downy covers, her tiny little face illuminated only by the light from the unicorn nightlight.

Closing the door quietly behind her, she stepped out of the room.

“You lied to her.”

Marjory jumped, partially because she was frightened by the sudden intrusion of the deep, hushed voice, and partially because she recognized it.

“Nation!” she whispered as she tried to calm her furiously beating heart. “I do wish you would stop sneaking around like this! How do you get in, anyway? The doors are all locked!”

“Now Marjory, you know I don’t need doors.”

“What do you want with me anyway? You said I’d be able to raise her how I wished.”

“I said I’d allow you to raise her as a Soul Bearer,” Nations replied as he followed Marjory down the dark hallway, leisurely walking behind her quick, purposeful gait. “You know that I intend to stop in from time to time, to make sure that you are…well…bringing her up right.”

“Just because you have spent your life, or lives, or however it is you measure time and existence,” Marjory cut her eyes towards Nations who was now standing beside her in the dim light of the parlor, “teaching young Soul Bearers the way of the trade, doesn’t mean you have to come barging in here to check up on me.”

“Actually, it does,” Nations replied, taking a seat near the fireplace. He picked up the iron poker and began to stir up the dead embers, rekindling a small flame. The room grew a little brighter.

Marjory huffed and said sarcastically, “Take a seat, why don’t you.”

“Thank you, but I already have,” Nations replied, ignoring her sarcasm. “I do apologize for barging in on you like this, especially at this time of the night, but I couldn’t help but notice that you aren’t telling your daughter the full story.”

“She too young to know everything.”

“No she isn’t. When you were her age, you knew everything about being a Soul Bearer. You were a most promising pupil.”

Marjory smiled wryly to herself, unsure whether to be pleased with the compliment or not. “But this is different. Caillet is delicate and much too young for her age. I simply can’t tell her everything yet.”

“You told her she will never have a soul mate, but you, of all people, know that this isn’t true.”
Marjory stood tall and dark, like a shadow in the corner. Nations sat illuminated by the golden glow of the firelight.

“I told her what I knew she could handle right now,” Marjory replied.

“But you know that isn’t true. Caillet is smart enough and old enough to handle the truth. What you told her is a lie. I need you to tell her that Soul Bearers will meet their soul mates, but that the difference between her and all the other mortals is that she must never fall in love with her own. She must know the consequences.”

Marjory stared at Nations, her eyes boring into his, yet, he didn’t flinch. He could not be intimidated.

Nations continued, “I don’t want to lose another Soul Bearer, or have another ‘incident.’”

Marjory cringed at the word “incident.” “Please, Nations. Don’t taunt me. You know that is all over.”

Nation’s manner softened a bit. “I did not come here to taunt you. I came here in the role of the Guardian. Despite how you feel, ultimately Caillet’s wellbeing is my concern. Marjory, we lost so many Soul Bearers in the incident. I won’t lose another one. I won’t have her found out and ousted. I won’t have another innocent life snuffed out. Remember. Even I don’t make the rules. There is always someone greater.”

Marjory choked back a sob and refused to let even a single tear roll down her face. “I understand, Sir.”

“Good. Then I’ll be on my way. Good night.”

Marjory had closed her eyes for a moment, trying to keep back a tear. When she had opened, Nations was gone. The fire had gone out, and she was alone in the darkness.

What More Could You Want?

Today I am reminded of something that God said to me about a year ago. I had been having a semi-bad day, you know the kind: cold, wet, dreary, and full of homework and homesickness. That was when I stepped down off of the sidewalk, on my way to my car, and God spoke. His voice was clear as He spoke to my mind and said, “You are well and you are loved. What more could you want?”

Sometimes I think about that, and I check on both of those elements: Am I well? Yes. Am I loved? Yes.

But that second question is hard to answer sometimes. At first when God told me this, I thought He was referring to human love, you know, the wavering, imperfect kind. And at times, I felt doubtful about whether or not I was loved. I mean, yeah, I’m loved by my family. I’m loved by my true, dear friends. But at the same time, even that kind of love isn't flawless. No. I felt sure that God meant a deeper kind of love.

And He did.

He was talking about His love. And regardless of the love of others, regardless of whether or not I am well and in good physical health, His love always remains. I need not rely on the love of anyone else. I don’t need to keep measuring my worth based upon who likes me this week and who doesn't.

God loves me, and I am living my life for Him, no one else. And in the end that is all that matters.

He’s right. I am well and I am loved. What more could I want?

He Was Busy Being Awesome...

Today was a bad day.

But I’m reminded of the Tim McGraw song “Find out Who Your Friends Are,” that says,

“You find out who your friends are.

 Somebody's gonna drop everything.

 Run out and crank up their car,

 Hit the gas, get there fast,

 Never stop to think 'what's in it for me?' or 'it's way too far,'

 They just show on up with their big old heart.

 You find out who your friends are.”

Sometimes in life you have those moments where you find out who is really there for you, and tonight was one of those nights. A friend came and picked me up after work and took me out to dinner. While I was busy being sad, God was busy being awesome. Tonight he showed me His hand in so many ways.

First of all, He was teaching me some things about friendship.

Secondly, my friend and I were having dinner, you know, just talking about God and the Bible, when the couple behind us PAID for our food because we were “being a witness for Jesus.” How cool is that? Thanks, God. I for one needed that blessing tonight.

Thirdly, on the way home, sitting at a stoplight, two very awesome friends of mine, who I haven’t seen in a while, were in the car next to us. Just seeing them again was a wonderful event.

And fourthly, my Great Grandmother called me. How many people my age can say that? She’s amazing. I hope I’m just like her when I am older.

So, I know that I wrote about this a long time ago, but despite the fact that 2013 has been the worst year of my life thus far, I have never lost my joy—the joy that I have through Christ. God is so good.

Liiiightbulllllb...

I’m the type of person who has high expectations when it comes to the people in my life. I tend to expect a lot from my family as well as my close friends. I always remember being taught the Golden Rule: “Do to others as you would have them do to you” (Luke 6:31 NIV). Somewhere along the line that came to mean to me that if you did good things towards other people, those people would return the favor.

Liiiightbulllllb.

Read that again: “Do to others as you would have them do to you.” It doesn't say, “Do good to others so that they will do good to you.” Yet, that was what I had taken it to mean. What it means is that we should treat other people as we would want to be treated, even if they NEVER treat us well in return.

Okay, so some of you are saying, “Well duh…” But give me a break. I'm just now figuring this out. 

Anyway, I've lived my life expecting that if I wanted someone to like me, if I wanted to receive good things from people, that I should do good things to them. Well, I got it half right. As Christians, heck, as human beings, we should always treat our fellow man with respect, love, and kindness. But, that doesn't mean that those people will treat us well in return.

Recently I've come to realize that when I do good things for others, I need to stop expecting to be thanked, or to be invited over to dinner in return. I need to stop expecting that good things will always come back to me.

And lastly, there is a fine line between doing good things for people because it’s the right thing to do, and getting walked over. Even for Christians, there comes a time when we need to stop bending over backwards for people who just simply don’t appreciate our efforts. The Bible even has something to say about this, in Matthew 7:6 where Jesus says not to “cast your pearls before swine.” Even Jesus wants us to be wise with our gifts and to whom we bestow our treasures. It’s not a matter of being unkind towards people. It’s a matter of being wise with our gifts and blessings.

PS: I hope you read the title of this post in the voice of Gru from Dispicable Me. That is all.

Things That Are Good for the Soul

God and His Word

Josh Groban

Classical Music

Ballet

Dancing in general

A good book

A good cry

The sky

Fields

Lakes, streams, rivers

The ocean

Catharsis after a play

Being ON stage

Singing

Praying

Talking with a best friend

Talking with Mom

Writing

Journaling
C. S. Lewis

Being alone

Ten Reasons Why I Became an English Major/Writer

1. Wishbone

2. My mom taught a dyslexic girl (me) how to read…and it took YEARS

3. A Beka Grammar

4. L. M. Montgomery, who showed me how to paint words with the colors of my mind

5. Charles Dickens, who taught me how to weave a plot

6. Brian Jacques. Not only was I inspired by his books, but he told me (TOLD ME!!!!) to never stop writing

7. My synesthesia

8. Linda Earls’ Creative Writing class

9. Dr. Gibson’s love of Gothic writing and Shakespeare that spilled over into me

10. God, who has given me the best ideas

The Two Things I Like Best

Today, a very good friend of mine commented on how adventurous I am. That was sort of funny to hear because I don’t really see myself as an adventurous person. I mean, I don’t go scaling mountains or jumping out of planes, but as my friend reminded me, I do take drives out to the middle of nowhere, with no planned destination, only to end up at the ocean or even in another state.

Later on, I was pondering this, and was thinking about my little “adventures.” You know, I don’t think that I’m adventurous as much as I am determined to fill my life with the things that I like best. I mean, we only get to go around once, so we might as well spend it doing things we enjoy. Every now and again I've stopped, looked at my life and evaluated what experiences or things that I liked best about my life. You know what the result was? Relationships and adventures.

So, I've spent my life thus far trying to make sure that I get my fill of those things. That’s why I seek out little excursions and exciting happenings. I figure if I put more positive, wonderful adventures into my days (whether with friends or alone), there will be less room for negative, ugly things.  And as far as I’m concerned, one can never have enough friends, or adventures. 

Teaser for: The Day Nations Cried --A Novel

 

It’s one thing to draw faces for other people. You don’t know them, and you don’t know the face on the page. As far as you know, it’s just a stranger staring back at you. Two eyes, charcoal grey, a nose, a mouth, two ears, possibly obscured by hair, but maybe not. You remember the first sketch, and possibly the second one. My first was of a tall, thin, dark-haired boy. He had a twinkle in his eye, and I thought he was handsome. My second sketch was of a girl. She was blonde and very plain. I didn’t think much of her. But my third sketch remains clouded. The face is obscure. The same with the fourth and the fifth until they all ran together in my mind.

After a while, the magic was gone. Here I am, the last-known Soul Bearer, and the magic is gone. I’ve been told all my life by Nations, by Marjory, that I am special, that my gift is the closest thing to a real-live superhero that this world is ever going to get. And yet, it seems mundane to me. Or at least, it did, until one day when it became very, very real.

Unless you too are a Soul Bearer, you’ll never understand this feeling, but imagine waking up one night and feeling compelled to draw. You get out your pencils and your sketch book, and you just draw. You let whatever spirit guide your hand in a feverish motion, painful and wonderful at the same time, until you give birth to a face on a page. And there he is, staring back at you, tragic, beautiful, but yet, still just a face on a page, until you realize that he’s more than that.

He is a name. He is a haunting presence who follows you throughout your day. He never leaves your thoughts. He never leaves your side. He is your soul mate.

When you are out, you feel as if he is around the next alley way. When you sleep, he is your uninvited bedfellow. Yet, you did invite him. You may not think that you did, but when you put your hand to that paper and touched your pencil down against the parchment, letting that first thin, grey line form, you invited him in.

And then there is that moment, where you are out on an errand, just going about your day, and it happens. He’s there, waiting in line at a counter. The face. It’s the face that you’ve seen a thousand times before. He’s been in your mind, in your dreams, in your very soul. And here he is, seemingly in flesh and blood before you, and all you can think to do is hide.

Do you have any idea how horrifying that is? Some people might say that they wish they could bring a face to life like that, but I caution them. There is nothing thrilling about it. It’s terrifying. It’s the stuff of nightmares and demons. It’s enough to make you question your whole existence and this life. Is it even real? Is any of this real?

Do you want to know the most horrifying thing about it?

It. Is. Real.

I Dug the Hole. He's Filling It In.

If you know me, you know that for months now, I've been talking about this great void within me. It’s an emptiness that I haven’t been able to fill no matter how hard I've tried. I thought that the gap was there because I missed my best friends and some of the stronger relationships in my life which are now gone.

But I don’t think that’s the case.

I think instead, that it’s been quite the opposite. After I lost my boyfriend earlier this year, I also lost his family. They had become my family here, and they were also my closest friends. Without them, I felt lost. Ever since then, I've tried to replace them in my heart with as many friends as I could find. But it didn't work.

 

You see, the problem was that I thought the void needed to be filled with people, when actually, it was the way I was trying to fill the void that was causing it to grow larger and larger. Ensuring that I had friendships, a network of people close to me, had become almost an obsessive goal in my life. Suddenly instead of just enjoying the company of those around me, and spending time with them when our schedules allowed, I was trying too hard. I was reaching out to people for more than they could give, and was expecting them to be things to me that they couldn't be.

I had subliminally told myself that I was nothing without friends, that I couldn't live my life without a string of close relationships. I’m a very relationship-centered person, so this made sense to me. But it was a lie. I realize that in trying so hard to surround myself with people, I had almost made it my god. It was what I cared about most in life, something that I was determined to obtain. God had once again been pushed to the side and replaced with a lesser, worldly god.

Earlier this week, God sort of spoke to my heart, and suddenly, I realized why I had this gaping hole inside of me. I had created it by not being satisfied in my life the way it was. I had created the gap when I took my life out of God’s hands and into my own, thus telling him, “You can’t take care of me as I can take care of me. Let me handle this.”

Needless to say, the stress of trying to make my own life “perfect,” was slowly killing me, and it took the form of that gaping emptiness. Since I've realized what I was doing, I’m going to try to keep surrendering my life to Him. Each time I do this, I realize that the emptiness inside of me kind of goes away. Now, I’m not saying that I’m eliminating my friendships or that I’m not going to work on them. Nothing has changed between me and the people in my life except for the fact that I’m done stressing over and trying to control all of my relationships. I’m going to leave that in God’s hands.

Will I try to take the reins back? Probably at some point. But, let me tell you, I feel much more like a whole person when He is in charge, instead of me.

Maybe They Got Something Right...

Yesterday I felt the incredible urge to take a long drive by myself and find an adventure. So I did. 

I didn't know where I was going, but I knew that I would know my destination when I arrived. Somehow, I knew it would either be the ocean, or someplace where I would find myself surrounded by nature.

But the goal was to get lost. And I did. Sort of.

I can’t lie. The place where I stopped was actually a somewhere I've been before—a little park on the North Carolina boarder. However, because I had never driven there myself before, and was always in a car full of friends, I had hardly ever paid attention to the drive, so I didn't think I would be able to find my way back.

But somehow, even when I felt like I was entirely lost, I ended up at that same park. It took me about an hour to get there, but it was worth it. I got out and walked through the marshy grass until I found the water. Two long strips of land jutted out into the water, and I walked up and down the edges of those strips, taking pictures of the trees and the birds and the flowers. What mystified me the most were the stone puzzle pieces that lined the edge of the shore, and could clearly be seen going all the way down into the water. It looked like God’s jigsaw puzzle.

At the end of one of the strips of land, I noticed that there were these miniature cliffs. The water had eroded the land so that one could step down from these tiny cliffs into the clay and rock bottom below. Lowing myself down, I walked below the cliffs until the clay became too slippery for me to keep walking. So I climbed back up and sat on a bench.

A boat passed and created a series of waves that forced themselves up over those rocks and into that slippery clay foundation upon which I had just been walking. The waves didn't quite reach where I was sitting, but if I had still been down below the cliffs, I would have been drenched and possibly taken out with the waves. I was amazed by the power of the water and the way that something that had been dry and quiet only a moment ago had been transformed into a bed for the rushing water.

But what I’ll remember most about my little adventure is the way I felt as I sat there. For months now, I've been battling with this feeling of emptiness. I often feel like I've got this big, jagged hole inside of me that can’t be filled no matter what I try to stuff into it.

Most recently I've been attempting to fill it with friendships, yet that simply hasn't worked. But as I sat there, in the quiet, knowing that I was alone with the wind and the waves and the clouded sky, I felt like I could almost feel that gaping hole closing up. Suddenly, for the first time in months, I felt whole again.

I still feel whole. I woke up this morning, not with a feeling of emptiness, but a feeling of being satisfied. I don’t know how long it will last, but maybe the solace of nature was what I needed. Maybe the hole inside of me was noise, the noise of a busy life in a noisy city. Maybe that hole could only be filled with the silence and solace of introspective thoughts and the sounds of God’s nature.

I always thought that those Transcendentalists had gotten something right, and maybe it was that they knew how to be quiet. They knew that one can only really focus on God and focus on one’s self when surrounded by the quiet that only nature can provide.

I think I need a little bit more of that serenity in my life.  

A Strange Message from a Former English Major

Don’t live your life in books.

Yep, I said it. *GASP!* Here I am, Queen of Commas, Princess of Punctuation, Duchess of Diagramming (okay…so I was reaching for that last one), and I am telling you to not let your life be lived out in books.

Now wait, hear me out on this one. The same thing goes for video games, movies, and television. We all have those friends who spend most of their times in front of a screen or behind a book. Don’t get me wrong, I find all of the aforementioned means of entertainment to be delightful (yes, even the video games); however, most recently I’ve come in contact with a lot of people who get pretty much all of their life experience from entertainment, whether it’s books or something else. The “readers” for example, are some of the coolest people I know, and I have much in common with them because we all have read so much. Yet, I’m finding more and more people who have never really stepped out past the books to actually do any of the things that they like to read about.

Now, I’m not saying that instead of reading about an affair that you should go out an actually have one.

 Yeahhh….NO.

The entrance to "my" secret garden

But, instead of reading about traveling to far-off places, go to them. It doesn't have to be Ireland or Australia, it can just be checking out the state next to yours, or doing all the touristy things around town that you've never done before.

Find a secret garden, rather than only reading about one. They exist. I found one once. Go to those hipster cafes and sip exotic lattes. Venture out into the woods and get lost. Drive until you don’t know where you are anymore. Who knows where you might end up.

Just, don’t let all of your adventures be confined to books. Books are for inspiring life, as a map of what life could be, what it has been for other people. Books should be a launching pad for your own adventures, not a replacement.

And then later, maybe you’ll have some stories of your own to write down. As for me, well, I’m on the look-out for my next adventure.

The Encouragement Challenge

God is a God of encouragement. Sometimes He encourages us directly, like through the Bible or even in other ways, like when He speaks to us, or in my case, leaves us little encouraging notes. And other times, I think He encourages us indirectly, through other people.

Well, this morning was one of “those days.” It’s raining and cold, and little things just weren't going right. Then, I opened my inbox on Facebook and read a wonderfully encouraging little message from a dear friend. It was just a few words, but it was kind and uplifting. Just the fact that I felt thought about was lovely.

So that was my first encouragement. Here is the second:

Last Friday I received a birthday package from one of my closest friends. In the package among the various awesomeness such as a birthday poem, a reindeer finger puppet, little pocket journals, earrings, and so much more, was a little shell box with something rattling around inside of it. I didn't open it, because her birthday poem had sad to save the box for a day when I really needed encouragement. So, I saved it. Granted, I didn't save it very long because curiosity was killing me, but I waited four days! That’s good, right?

So today, just unable to shake away a case of the “glums” and still absolutely dying to see what was in the little shell box, I finally opened it. Inside was a little silver token, about the size of a nickel. On the face of the token was a praying angel (no, all you Whovians, not a weeping angel). It felt smooth and cool in my hand as I brushed my finger over its surface.

Just like the little “Have Faith” note that I found in my purse the other day, I feel as if God is using this little present from a friend as a friendly reminder that He is still there, and that He wants me to put my attention on him, instead of all the little inconveniences and frustrations of life.

So here is your challenge for the day: write to someone, anyone, just one sentence of encouragement. Or if you're really feeling outgoing, send someone a little gift. It doesn't have to be anything big, just something to show you're thinking of them.

I’m going to do this too. I might do it more than once. I guarantee you that it’ll lift someone's spirits and it might even make you feel a little bit better too.

And besides, you never know how God might use you to help someone else.

An Unexpected Miracle

For the past few months, my mantra has been “have faith.” I've written it everywhere. It’s on my white board at work in big, cursive letters. It’s the background on my phone so that it’s something that I’ll see every day. If I was a tattoo kind of girl, I’d have it written on my wrist by now.

Faith has been something that I've really needed a daily dose of. I feel like I have so little faith that I need to be reminded constantly to just relax and let God take care of things.

However, this past week I almost erased my whiteboard and changed the background on my phone because I figured it might be time for a change…yet, for some reason, I didn't.

So yesterday I was standing in the lobby at church before the service started and I pulled my phone out from my purse. I didn't look at my phone, but as I held it in my hand, I could feel that there was something jammed into the charge-socket. Pulling it out, I saw that it was a tiny slip of paper about an inch long and about a quarter of an inch wide. Written on it in blue pen were the words, “Have Faith.”

I stopped and stared at it for a moment. Those are the same two words I've been writing everywhere and meditating on for the past few months. And here they were, written on this tiny slip of paper, in a handwriting that was unfamiliar to me. I didn't write it or put it in my purse, in fact, I had cleaned out my purse less than twenty-four hours before, and that slip of paper had not been there then.

So how did it get there? Who wrote it and why was it in my purse, stuck to my phone? Is it a sign?

I don’t know. All I know is that I'm amazed. This really is exactly what I needed to be reminded of. And it feels kind of like a little miracle. I mean, I know that there has to be some sort of logical reason for how this little inspirational piece of paper ended up in my purse, but it feels like it’s a little letter from God, telling me to not give up, to just trust in Him that He’s got this all figured out. I guess that He knew that I needed a little reminder so He decided to give me one.

So, thanks God.

You Just Can’t Win in Life: Girl Problems

When a girl posts too much about her emotions people say that she’s just looking for attention.

When a girl keeps things bottled up inside, people say that it’s unhealthy and that she should express herself.

You just can’t win.

When a girl’s skirts are a little short or her chest is so large that she has cleavage even in a T-shirt, people say that she is “loose” or “trying to get a man.”

When a girl dresses conservatively she’s called a “nun” and told that “she’ll never get a man that way.”

You just can’t win.

When it’s a girl’s desire to get married and have babies, people say that she’s “missing out on life” and needs to “have a career first.”

When a girl wants a career and has no immediate plans for a family, people wonder what’s wrong with her and ask her why she doesn't want babies.

You just can’t win.

“She’s too social. She’s simply trying to be the life of the party because that’s all she’s got.”

“She too quiet. Why doesn't she get out more?”

You just can’t win.

So who cares what people think. Be yourself. Rebel. Love. Cry when you feel like it and don’t be afraid to tell people when you’re hurt. Be quiet when you feel like being silent, but don’t be afraid to speak up for yourself when you need to. Lead the life that GOD wants you to lead, because at the end of the day, doing God’s will is really all that matters. All of those other voices are just voices in the din, trying to drown out what really matters.

Ten Things that My "Inner Child" Wants but My "Outer Adult" Denies

Ten Things that My Inner Child Wants but my Outer Adult Denies her (because my adult self is in touch with reality):

1. To follow Thoreau’s plan laid out in “Walden” and create my own shelter and fend for myself for a while as a Transcendentalist

2. To live in a castle (obviously this does not coincide with number 1)

3. To go to Narnia (Even my “inner adult” believes that this will somehow be possible someday)

4. To live in Prince Edward Island (my inner adult thinks that is also somewhat probable)

5. Marry Justin Timberlake (those celebrity marriages never last…right?)

6. To be a princess (marrying Prince Harry is still a possibility…although it conflicts with number 6)

7. To be a ballerina (or ballerina princess, perhaps?)

8. To solve a great mystery (like if the hokey-pokey really IS what it’s all about, where is Waldo REALLY? etc.)

9. To BE Nancy Drew (it coincides with 8, but conflicts with the princess ballerina thing…or DOES it??)

10.  To come up with a 10th item because I ran out

Snippets

You know, 2013 has been a tough year thus far. There have been a lot of ups and downs. I don't regret a minute of it (okay, I'll probably always regret that BSB concert, but that's beside the point), though. And through all of the tough stuff, through all of the good stuff, I'm slowly discovering what it means to be a "grown up" and to deal with very adult problems and trials. 

It's funny, but being away from Maryland for over a year has done nothing to dim my deepest friendships. If anything, it's strengthened them. And, being the sentimental weirdo that I am, sometimes I hang on to snippets of conversations between my friends/family and I because they mean that much to me. Although I won't name names, here are a few bits of conversation that happened between me and different people at different points throughout the year. The first three are from very dear friends, and the last one is from a male relative (I think the fact that a GUY wrote that last one makes all the difference!). They are simply too precious to forget.

"After all of these years, you're still the only person who really gets me."

"That's because we're soul mates."

 "Is there anything I can do?"

 "Just be you."

 "You know I'm crazy, right?"

 "Yep."

"You love me."

"Always have."

"And you love me."

"I always have."

"Hey Abigail, I know you're going through a tough time with MEN right now, so here are some words of wisdom from Boy Meets World--Eric: "Men are idiots. No, wait, men are BIG idiots." 

Random Thought for the Day

One of the most incredible and alternately frightening things about life is that you never know what’s going to happen next. I mean, one day something dreadful happens and you feel horrible, like nothing is ever going to be good again. And then, one day, when you’re just going about life, minding your own business, BAM! Something wonderful and unexpected happens. It just comes out of nowhere and surprises you.

Granted, bad things happen exactly like this too. We all know that, but just the fact that the good things can happen just as quickly and unexpectedly is reason enough to get out of bed and breathe in and out all day.  You never know when in the blink of an eye, something cool, miraculous, life-changing, or simply—magical—might just happen…

That is all. Go about your day and don't forget to look for those wonderful, little moments.

To Me You Are Autumn

To me you are autumn.  

You are pumpkin spice in a coffee cup

And a plaid scarf around my shoulders.

You are a warm, flannel shirt

And an even warmer hug.

You are a woodland fern

That has curled up in the frost,

And you are that cold, fall morning

That melts into sunshine and steam.

But most of all, you are the spirit of the season,

The colors of the air and the fields and the woods.

You are orange, yellow, and red,

With a hint of romance and mystery.

Risks.

So, I know people who don’t believe in taking risks. I think that’s because they've never really taken any. They've lived very safe, sheltered lives, without ever reaching out for something new, something outside of their comfort zone. (I know my mother is reading this right now, shaking her head because she always claims that I enjoy my comfort zone too much…but just hear me out.) Such people have always lived roughly in the same place, worked the same job, always been close to family, don’t walk in the rain, or do or say things just to “see what will happen.”

And that’s really all well and good. There’s nothing wrong with that. That was a good bulk of my life as well. But then, there was one day when I was seventeen when I was standing backstage at my first theatre rehearsal, waiting for my cue line, when I knew I was much too scared to step out from the wings. I searched for the nearest exit and wondered how I could get someone to come and pick me up. Then something inside of me said, “If you don’t do this now, you will regret it for the rest of your life.”

So I stepped out, and I said my first line. I didn't pass out. I didn't throw up. It went well and I've never regretted it. I've thanked my teenage-self many times for that moment, because without that, I would have missed out on the joy that has been my theatre life, and on all of the beautiful relationships that were forged.

Since then, I've taken some more risks. It was a risk to move away from my family, and it was a risk that I almost didn't take. You should have seen me the night my family and I were moving my things into my new room. I made myself physically ill, I was so scared. But in the end, I still did it. It was God’s will, so it was a risk that I was supposed to take.

And then there are the little risks, like going to an audition this week and singing a song in front of strangers, when I knew that I wasn't fully confident in my performance. But it was worth it. I got back on a stage, instead of surrendering the crippling fear that I felt inside of me. Did I get a call-back? No. But I have no regrets.

Even in my relationships, I take risks. This one is a little new for me. In the past, I feel like I've always been so well-behaved in my friendships/relationships, and in doing so, I fear that people have not always seen a true picture of who I really am. But I’m tired of that. I’m tired of people thinking that nothing ever bothers me, that their words never hurt me. They do. Those little jabs, those little slights, those little times where they ignore a text or say something hurtful do in fact hurt.

And I’m done with smiling and pretending that I’m alright. I’m going to say something now. I’m going to take a risk and let people know how I am feeling. That’s not to say that I’m going to be mean about it, but for the first time in my life, I’m going to take a risk in my relationships. I’m going to be fully myself, letting others see even my most vulnerable side at times, because I’m just tired of being someone that I’m not. The only place for that is on the stage. The only problem is that I’m afraid that I've been something that I'm not for so long that I don’t know who I am anymore.

But I will.

Eight Things that I Love to Do, But Suck At

Dance. All sorts of dance, especially ballet. Although I've been taking ballet classes off and on since I was 10, I’m still a beginner.

Ice skating. I love it, but I suck at it. I still have a nice scar on my hand to prove it.

Skateboarding. I extra suck at this one. I love the idea of skateboarding and I’m in love with my board, Nunzio, but I can’t stay on the board for more than a matter of seconds.

Archery. I suck slightly less at archery. I feel like if I spent a lot of time on it, I’d do even better. Hmmm…here’s a good birthday present idea, guys: a recurve bow!

Bowling. I enjoy it as a group activity, but not enough to really practice up and improve my game.

Mini golf. Or even golf in general. I remember having a wicked swing when I was about 11, but I never cultivated that…bummer.

Art. I’m a lousy artist. Although…there was this one sketch that turned out well once…but that’s a really long story…

Swimming. I actually cannot swim—not even a bit, so this doesn't totally fit in this list. I love water and I love being in/around water, but the moment my feet are not touching something solid, forget it. 

A Favor for the Dead

As a child, I grew up with a boy who was known as the terror of our neighborhood (let’s just call him Brian). He was the bad boy, the guy who had been accused of just about every single crime a 12-year-old boy can commit...and then some. Parents warned their children not to play with him, he nearly burned down his own house once, was known for doing drugs, and he apparently broke another boy’s arm with a baseball bat once.

But, there was just something about him…

I remember watching from my yard one time as he saved a little boy from being run over by a car. Another time, when I had been struck by another child, Brian came to my rescue and gave the other boy hell for hitting me. Sometimes Brian would play with me when there was no one else to play with; he would play house, pour tea with me, and make pretend soup out of wild onions and dirt. Then there were the times when it came to being picked for teams, and I was always picked last because I was the worst player of them all. But Brian always picked me first.

He had my loyalty because of it, and in some way, my childish heart cherished him, despite what everyone said he was like, or what they said he had done.

Brian moved away a couple of years later and I heard very little of him from that point onward. And what I did hear wasn't good. He had hard life, and few people were willing to give him much of a break. Then there was one day when I happened upon his obituary online. He had been found dead in his home from a drug overdose. And then I read the words that really touched me. He had a two-year-old daughter, and she shares my name.

I didn't think his death would bother me that much, but it did. Not long after finding the obituary, I had a dream about him. He came to me, and we stood in the same spot where we once used to play out in the yard. He told me that he was in hell and that I had to save him somehow, because he was in such pain. In the dream, I tried so hard to somehow help him, but in the end, I was unable to.

I've never really gotten over Brian’s death, or the dream where he begged for help. I wish that somehow when he was alive, that I could have done something for him, shared God with him or helped him to get out of the mess that he was in. But, what can an eleven-year-old girl do?

So recently, I found his younger brother on Facebook. I’m sure this guy doesn't remember me at all. But today I wrote to him. I just wanted to reach out and tell him that I still think of his big brother often, and to just share a bit of hope.

Part of me is frightened that Brian’s brother will be mad at me, a perfect stranger, for reaching out at such a random time and in a random manner, but I get the feeling that it’s not only something that I need to do for myself, to let go of Brian, but that it’s what Brian would have wanted.

He's More Myself Than I Am

I keep having this overwhelming desire to read “Wuthering Heights” again. I’ve already read it twice, and the last time wasn’t even a year ago.

The funny thing is that it isn’t even my favorite book. I’m not even sure if I even really like it.

Let’s face it, Heathcliff is a jerk. He’s tyrannical, cruel, heartless, and sometimes downright evil. He’s no Mr. Darcy, there is very little real romance between him and Catherine, and he just isn’t a very relatable character (unless, of course, you find yourself to be as equally heartless and cruel as he is).

And then, *sigh* there is Catherine. She and Heathcliff deserve each other. She is just as mean, cold-hearted, and unfeeling as he is, sometimes more so. She doesn’t deserve Edgar. He may be spoiled and a coward, but he is not a bad guy. Catherine on the other hand, is just one big, beautiful ball of misery.

And outside of the characters, we don’t even have a very nice setting. Let’s face it, the wind at this place “wuthers.” From the way it’s described in the book, that’s not altogether a very nice, comforting sound, but rather kind of haunting. In fact, Wuthering Heights is a very desolate, cold, unforgiving sort of location. Even the house falls into disrepair until it appears like it should be condemned.

Over all, there are few lovable characters, almost no comforting, “warm and fuzzy” moments, little romance, and very inhospitable settings. So why do I love it so much? I don’t. Yet, I keep coming back to it.

I think that the draw for me is the haunting atmosphere of the first few chapters where Catherine’s ghost haunts the manor, the way Heathcliff’s devotion to Catherine remains long after her death, and their undying love for each other. I love the idea that two people can love each other so intensely that they love past all the anger, past all of each other’s hideous faults, past the problems and the pain, past never actually being able to be together because society said it was wrong.

Sometimes when I read it, it makes me feel better about my own life and the relationships that I have, because none of them are nearly as messed up as Heathcliff and Catherine’s. Yet, there is another part of me that desires a love with that kind of devotion. What they had extended past distance, time, and all other obstructions. I know it’s just a book, but I too want to be with the one who is “more myself than I am.”

The 80’s Have Returned…and I Apologize…

To paraphrase a joke my friend used to tell: I apologize for the 80's/90's fashion. I was there. I could have stopped it. 

Reasons why the 80’s and 90’s have returned with a vengeance—all observations after a trip to the mall:

1.       The “pumped up kicks” in the shoe store are hideous. They are all neon green and hot pink—a color combination I thought we left in the 1980’s.

2.       I spotted a man sitting in the middle of the food court, talking on a bright red, curly cord, phone receiver…that was attached to his cell phone. At first, I didn't even think this was odd at all.

3.       The prom dresses! (insert scream here) The dresses are back with a VENGEANCE! They are all polka dotted and poofy! I legitimately saw puffy sleeves, like all those hideous dresses at Good Will that have not sold since the late 80’s, early 90’s.  

4.       There are rumors of an NSync reunion.  Yes. (This has nothing to do with my trip to the mall, but deserves placement in my list anyway.)

Now—go listen to some boy bands (pre-2000, preferably), put on a little Full House or Punky Brewster, and crimp your hair…NOW!

At The End of The Day.

At the end of the day, I’ve realized that relationships are the single most important thing in my life to me.

At the end of the day, I don’t want to just date; I want to be loved.

At the end of the day, I don’t want to cling. I want to trust. Despite everything I’ve been through, I still want to trust.

At the end of the day, I don’t mind crying a little if I can be comforted by a friend.

At the end of the day, I want to be a better person that I was the day before.

At the end of the day, I just want that void to be filled. It doesn’t have to be tomorrow, or the day after that, or the day after that. It doesn’t have to be this year, or the next…just “someday.”

At the end of the day, I know that no matter what the day had been like or how empty I might sometimes feel, I know that I am loved. And for right now, for today, that's enough.

Ten Things You Didn’t Know About Me (Or Maybe a Few You Did…)

I like to read Little Women at Christmas. It makes me feel like I’m coming home, but I usually only read up to the part where (spoiler) Beth dies.

I am secretly a rap artist. No really. I can beatbox like nobody’s business.

I am HIGHLY Synaesthetic. (Look it up or ask me)

As a writer, I have a “muse.” He’s a character who seems to appear in nearly everything I write. I love him.

I own a skateboard named Nunzio.

My GPS is named Chantal. She is British and she doesn’t like some of my friends. Sometimes we fight.

When I’m tired, I act like I’m drunk. I say “I love you” way too much, and often don’t make any sense. My closest friends know not to talk to me after midnight unless they want to talk to “emotional Abigail.”

I want to always be elegant, feminine, Victorian, a princess.

I have a degree in theatre as well as in creative writing.

I’m a hopeless romantic.