little things 5

Hello darlings,

Unfortunately, my internet presence over the past few weeks has been restricted to facebook chats and old Pokemon episodes. And sooo... I'll leave you with this, one of my new favorite things:

Little Things "A list of little things we should appreciate."

A couple little, good things from my week:

1. Leftover pizza
2. Crazy friends who will dress up as a zombie with you
3. Comfy, cozy, old man sweaters
4. The sound of rain pounding on the school roof
5. The word "hootzpuh"

Enjoy,

Erika

baby animal of the week: kangaroo

Hello friends,

Yesterday was my ultimate evening of culture and cool things. After musical rehearsal, I went to a book sale, a coffee shop, and an art show. Thus, today is my day of sitting on the couch eating Goldfish crackers, listening to Two Door Cinema Club, and staring adoringly at the following pictures:

Also, I know "of the week" is no longer an accurate time frame. Unless you adopt my new calendar where one week can stretch for MONTHS! Never be late for a deadline again! Just don't specify which Monday you'll do something...

some news

I never know how to keep this balance between my personal life and... other stuff. Writing stuff? Book stuff? Some days I just don't feel like I have enough expertise on anything but myself, and therefore don't have any right to post about them. But! These past few weeks have been supercrazybusy and I have a few things to share.

I got a role in the musical! It's a very small part--my character's name is Vicky and she's a chorus girl who sings/dances/acts in the background. I'm happy with it. And rehearsals are already in full swing, meaning every day after school I'm at the theatre or the music room practicing until 5:30. I honestly have no idea how the people with lead roles can handle it.

I'm not sure if I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year. If I do, it'll be my fifth year in a row. Wow, I've been trying to write novels since I was 11. That boggles my mind. My mind has been boggled. But between band, jazz band, musical, choir, homework... I don't know if my mind can handle any more of this boggling nonsense.

You tell me: Are you doing NaNoWriMo this year? There are 28 days left to plan your epic novel! And, if you don't mind me asking, what do you think of Hairspray?

book of the month - september

My first ever book of the month: Outlander by Diana Gabaldon

I must confess that, back at the beginning of September when I said I was going to read and review Outlander, I didn't think I would make it. I was about a hundred pages in to an 800+ page book. And I wasn't planning on finishing.

But Diana Gabaldon's historical romance has something about it that pulls you in and will not let you go. She uses a line quite often, when one character says something, and the other responds not to what was said, but what was meant. The entire story reads like that, going beyond what I first expected to something rich and complex.

The story follows Claire Randall, a British nurse who, while exploring 1945 Scotland, is pulled through a magical stone circle and finds herself two hundred years in the past, surrounded by tribesmen and clans and war. After reading the back cover, I figured I had a decent sense of what I was about to read: Girl goes back in time. Girl meets handsome Scotsman. They fall in love. Some other stuff happens. The end! But all of the characters were so... so smart. They figured things out, they acted rather than just reacting, they came up with solutions that I never would have.

Outlander is totally unpredictable. Gabaldon describes the Scottish highlands in such beautiful detail I actually looked forward to those big blocks of descriptive text. And there were no set heroes or antagonists. A character wasn't good or evil simply because of who they were--you got to see them develop and change through the novel, and make your own assumptions based on what they did, not what you were told.

All in all, it was an incredible novel, perfect for curling up on a cold Fall day. It's long, yes, but it goes by quickly. It stands boldly alone--but is also the first in a series. I would highly recommend it to anyone wanting to read a book that is fabulously thought out, but doesn't feel like a chore to read.

fall five

Good morning, world!

1. I auditioned for a musical. This year my school is doing "Hairspray". Oh my gosh, I don't think the full horror of singing/dancing/acting in front of other people really sets in until you're there, on stage, and your heart starts to race.

2. I miss eating crunchy things. Like popcorn, pizza, chocolate cake, chips, pecan pie, apples, pears, strawberries, cereal, cheezies... Basically everything I can't eat right now.

3. It rained today. I've discovered sky lights that run the length of the upstairs hallway and make the lack of windows a little more bearable. The sky was white and grey this morning. You can hear rain plinking on the roof of the school when you're sketching in the art room.

4. Over the summer I fooled myself into thinking I missed this: school, homework, waking up early every day... I think I could do without it for a few more months of sunshine.

5. Boys with long hair pulled back in pony tails: yay or nay? I'm watching Survivor and I can't make up my mind...

surgeryerific

To my dearest fellow human beings,

I am exhausted. I have a piece of gauze taped to my arm where the IV was inserted* and my lower jaw is completely numb. Nothing major going on--I just had my wisdom teeth removed this morning. I know it had to happen sooner or later, but can I just say that I'm feeling a lot less wise than I was yesterday?

So, to look on the bright side, I have a list for you!

Three Things You Must Do When Your Mouth Is Completely Numb:

1. Swallow pills. Depending on the reason for the numbness, the pills might be mandatory. But that doesn't make them any less fun! I swear, it's the weirdest thing to see the pill in your hand, put in it your mouth, and then have it completely disappear because you can't feel it anymore. I had to open my mouth and ask my mom if it was still there (which I'm sure she enjoyed to no end).

2. Touch your face. I've been constantly poking my lower jaw because it feels so weird. My hand can feel my jaw but my jaw can't feel my hand. It's like I have an imaginary chin! I have to double check in a mirror every once in a while to make sure it's still there.

3. Talk. A lot. Simple words have never been so hilarious! And if they sound funny to you, the people hearing you talk are clearly having a fabulous time! It's amazing how much you can get across with a couple hand gestures, some very intense facial expressions, and a garbled "Mahhhhh erm a kloopnak ottobob lushvas."

Because I am hoping that I don't get dental surgery very often in my life, I plan to relish this moment. Sure, there might be a little blood on my pillow when I wake up, but hey, sticking out my tongue is like a whole new experience!

Love,
Erika

*I am not so good with needles. Not at all. And, because I have "small veins," my dentist ended up calling in his dad (an ER nurse) to help insert the IV. The dentist's dad, my mom, it was like a family affair. Of course, it would've been considerably more fun if there weren't any needles involved, but what can I say? Dentists have a weird sense of humor.

book of the month info

I've been exploring Once Upon A Time... , a blog by a writer named Cristina Dossantos, and I love it. The design, the writing, the features. So much that I want to steal (read: take inspiration from) one of her segments--Book of the Month.

I find book reviews a little daunting. Someone created something, put so much of themselves into a book, and what makes me think I have any right to critique it? But I want to practice and I love to read. One book review a month should be... doable.

If any of you have read the same book, or would like to, we can discuss it and share what we loved/hated/couldn't put down. For September, I've chosen something nice and thick: Outlander by Diana Gabaldon.

The year is 1945. Claire Randall, a former combat nurse, is back from the war and reunited with her husband on a second honeymoon--when she walks through a standing stone in one of the ancient stone circles that dot the British Isles. Suddenly she is a Sassenach--an "outlander"--in a Scotland torn by war and raiding Highland clans in the year of Our Lord...1743.

Hurled back in time by forces she cannot understand, Claire is catapulted into intrigues and dangers that may threaten her life...and shatter her heart. For here she meets James Fraser, a gallant young Scots warrior, and becomes a woman torn between fidelity and desire...and between two vastly different men in two irreconcilable lives.

Let me know if you've read it, or if you'd like to read it. Book club, anyone?

so this is September

Today was the first day of school. I spent the entire time wandering around in a confused daze while my thoughts flitted between:

Oh my God, why did I wear this?
WHY on earth did I decide to take all these difficult classes?
Everyone looks so pretty and smart and talented!
Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.
Is that my classroom? Where's my classroom?!
Oh good, my locker won't open. I'm so glad.
I really should've worn something else...

Every year, I start school thinking the exact same thing: This is it. This year, everything will be different. I'll make tons of great friends, all my classes will be amazing, nothing will be the same. Everyone reinvents themselves over the summer--I know I do--but sometimes not as much as you'd like. And having to deal with that, the fact that there will always be unpleasant people in the world, and there will always be people who are smarter and better looking and more talented than me... It's an adjustment.

I don't know. I don't know if this will be good or bad or just plain confusing. I don't know if I'll meet nice people or hate all my classes or feel overwhelmed or have a lovely time of it. I don't know yet.

And that is terrifying.

august

Good evening, my friends.

Sorry. I know that sentence makes me sound like a 700 year old vampire Lothario with greasy hair and a dirty mustache. I just can't help it. We've been apart for so long, I'm a changed person. Oh, and I've developed a vaguely Eastern European accent which really helps with the wooing.

I've been doing some book buying recently, trying to make the best of working through the summer (long days = more money to spend on books = looooong days). Here are a few new ones sitting at the foot of my bed:

Nightshade by Andrea Cremer (YA Urban Fantasy)
The Girl Who Could Fly by Victoria Forester (MG Urban Fantasy)
French Food at Home by Laura Calder (a Cookbook!)
The Girl in the Steel Corset by Kady Cross (YA Steampunk)
Sisterhood Everlasting by Ann Brashares (Adult Fiction--I think?)

I'm super excited about Girl in the Steel Corset. I haven't seen a lot of new Young Adult Steampunk novels around the bookstore--but we have vampire books by the dozen. Do you have a favorite steampunk novel, or are you looking forward to a particular release? I loved Clockwork Angel by Cassandra Clare.

Also: is 'steampunk' the official terminology? I have this bizarre feeling that it's what my mom would call a "little boy word," like fart or bologna. Okay, maybe not in quite the same playing field.

Love and books (wonderful, wonderful books),

Erika

book anxiety

When I was cleaning my room, repainting and rearranging, I decided to do something really dumb: I separated my unread books from the ones I had read.

This book-segregation finally ended last night, when I took all my books off the shelves and ended up getting very little sleep. Thank goodness. I would look at my bookshelf and instead of thinking, hey, cool beans, maybe I can read something really good today, I would feel overwhelmed. My reading went from being an escape to a chore.

Does this ever happen to you? Working in a bookstore, I feel like I have to be reading constantly so I can give people up-to-date recommendations. Not only that, but my heaps-of-books-to-read anxiety actually made me not want to buy new books.

What

is

this

madness?!

Now that my books are happily intermingling again, I think I'm on my way to getting over my book anxiety. I might even have to buy a few more, you know, to fill out my collection.

You tell me: Do you ever get book-anxiety? And how do you deal with knowing that you aren't physically able to read everything out there that you want to read?

on not flying alone

Yesterday was the last night of a week-long writing camp I've been attending. It was put on by my local college and library and was been, well... affirming.

Every time I meet other writers in real life, I get this wonderful glowy feeling. It's like someone else finally gets it. Imagine if you had a burning passion for flying kites, and you're walking home one day when you see a flash of something colorful in the sky. You follow the thin line of string down to the earth and see a boy holding a spool, watching the kite dance in the wind. You spend the day discussing aerodynamics and the pros and cons of flashy ribbons and how much it sucks when you don't notice a nearby tree. And by the end of it the kite has flown off somewhere, but you're both smiling because you've shared your passion with someone else, and they understood.

This camp, and every other gathering of writers I've ever been to, has felt like that. A kite in the wind. A sign that you are not alone.

We did a lot of little exercises where one of our instructors, Jess, would give us a writing prompt and we'd spend ten or fifteen minutes writing, then people would share what they came up with. On my own, I rarely use prompts or write like that, in short bursts. They were great, though, and it felt so nice to write without forethought, without an outline or a story arc. Just to get the words down while they were still warm. A few of my favorite prompts were:

1. Write something involving a mirror or other reflective surface
2. If you had a key that could open one door (anywhere, anytime), what would be on the other side of it?
3. Write a brief autobiography, and include one lie
4. Write about yourself, the writer, from the point of view of someone else (your friend, your laptop, the flies on the wall, etc)
5. Write a song lyric/nursery rhyme/poem you know by heart, then respond to it line by line
   

during and after

So it's taken me three days, but in the past 72 hours of hard work, extremely poor nutrition and probably inhaling way too many paint fumes, I have taken my room from this:

To this:


Sorry that they're both flowers. I do realize that takes away from the comparison. But! It's pink! And white! And French and muted and sophisticated but not snooty and it feels like my room, and it feels like home.

baby animal of the week: elephant

I can totally picture myself befriending a baby elephant. We could go on long walks, stay up late crying over Dumbo and Water for Elephants, paint each others' toe nails...

On second thought, I think I'd rather see a baby elephant in the wild, smiling and playing with all its elephant friends. Remembering everything.

XVI by Julie Karr

Summary from Booklist:

In 2150 Chicago, girls are walking billboards. Upon turning 16, they receive government-issued tattoos on their wrists that read “XVI.” They’re supposed to keep the girls safe, but in reality, the tattoos broadcast their brand-new sexual availability.

As their sixteenth birthdays approach, Nina is increasingly disturbed by her best friend’s obsession with becoming the ideal “sex-teen” and entering the Female Liaison Specialist (FeLs) service, the only option for women from the lower tiers to move up the social ladder.

Meanwhile, Nina works hard to uncover the mystery her dead mother left behind, a secret that could end the entire FeLs program.



I was so, so looking forward to this book. The whole premise is fascinating--when girls turn 16, they basically lose any right to refuse a guy. People assume that they're obsessed with sex, appearances, clothes, boys, and sex. And for many of them, that's true. But not Nina Oberon.

For those of you who don't know, I am 16. And, to be honest, it doesn't feel like a big deal. The guys in my life are still who they were. It's not like you go to sleep one night and wake up the next morning a completely different person. Not even on your sixteenth birthday. That being said, I couldn't imagine being branded with an XVI tattoo, having everyone know that I was suddenly "available". Earlier today, at the bookstore I work at, a creepy guy called me "cutie", and I wanted to punch him in the face whilst yelling something totally feminist. So having that be the way people were expected to treat me? No way.

But there were some parts of the book that... to be frank, I didn't like. All of the slang definitely confused me. It's a dystopian novel that takes place in the future, and things like "trannies" (like cars, only more hover-y) just weren't explained enough for me to properly understand. I suppose it's just a choice: Do you back away from the story a bit to provide more info on where you are and what's happening? Or do you totally immerse yourself in the character's POV, and lose some of your audience?

Another thing that got to me were all the nicknames. This coming from the girl who grew up with very few nicknames, bear in mind. But I feel like you have to put so much thought into giving your main character the best name possible--so why cover that up with at least half a dozen nicknames? One, sure. Two, tops. I know it's a personal choice, but it's always one where I choose no.

The story follows Nina Oberon as her life changes dramatically--she meets a boy who makes her feel like love and sex might not just be government-sexteen-propaganda, finds out that her mom's abusive boyfriend Ed is much worse than she ever could've imagined, and has some serious doubts in the society that she grew up in. To me, this book was... okay.

Pro: fantastic cover, brilliant and frightening concept, likeable characters from all different class levels (which is a big deal in the XVI-universe)

Con: hard to get in to, some strange pacing (in my opinion), I felt disconnected from what was going on.

Buy/Borrow/Bust: I'd say borrow it from your local library to see if it's your taste. On the plus side, it's already out in paperback!

comfort books

Sometimes, when it's cold outside, when you're stressed out from school/work/family/life, or when you just want to curl up with something tried and true, you need a comfort book.

To me, the definition of a "comfort book" is a lot like mashed potatoes. Not something overly thought-provoking or edgy. Definitely nothing good for you. A comfort book makes you feel warm and good and instantly at home.

My version of comfort books are things that I've read before, and can read over and over again. They're YA and MG, and just plain friendly. That's the thing. As much as I hate the word, a lot of my comfort books are "wholesome". Romantic, descriptive, and full of heart.

1. Which Witch by Eva Ibbotson. This book was suuuch a big part of my childhood. It's about seven witches from a small town who compete to marry the dark wizard Arriman the Awful. Six of the witches are totally mean and nasty, and then there's Belladonna, the only "white" witch. She's kind, friendly, generous--and surprisingly good at magic, and finding ways around the general meanness of the challenges Arriman gives them, while still being successful. It's such a quietly lovely book, like a fairy tale. Really. Everything by Eva Ibbotson makes me smile.

2. The Gravesavers by Sheree Fitch. Oh, this sweet, sweet book. A family tragedy sends 12-year-old Minn to her sour grandmother's for the summer, where she meets a boy and discovers the most devastating shipwreck since the Titanic. The POV shifts between Minn and Thomas Hindley, a passenger on the S.S. Atlantic. It's just beautifully written, and weaves together the past and the present, not to mention all the different characters' stories. But my favorite part? Minn's mom's job is naming paint colors. Every time Minn looks at something--like the night sky--she comes up with a name for the color. Midnight Madness. Deepening Blue. Endless.

3. Inkheart by Cornelia Funke. I wasn't sure whether I liked this book, despite the fact that the author's name is super amazing. But everything about it is like a dream come true: when Meggie and her father read out loud, things come out of the books. Not always nice things. And every time something is pulled out of a book, something has to go back in--like Meggie's mom. It's magical and awe-inspiring, and by the end of the trilogy virtually every character felt like an old friend.

These are the books I grew up with. They make me feel good no matter what's happening in my life. Mashed potatoes squished between two covers. But not gross.

baby animal of the week: ocelot

Oh herro. Time to make today a little bit more adorable. Ocelot-style. Now, how often do you get to say that?

They have blue eyes. This amazes me. So far, all the blue-eyed things I know are human. I think.

Happy Sunday.

little things 4

Oh man. After laying down some serious teen angst on you guys in my last post, you deserve something happy and fun. So here are a few things that make me feel happy and fun:

1. Foreign accents. I know this topic has received a lot of love--my friend owns at least two "I love boys with British accents" T-shirts, which I think somewhat discriminates against all the other lovely accents and boys-who-have-them*--but it deserves all the attention it gets. Really. What could possibly be better than getting to listen to a voice that sounds so different, so unique that it's like music?**

2. Summer rain. We're getting to the end of July and we've had maybe three beautiful sunny days where I live. The rest? Cloudy. Grey. Rain. And I love it! It's warm enough to be pleasant, but cool and wet enough to mean you can close your eyes and pretend it's Autumn. Sigh. I miss the fall!

3. No school. Whoever came up with "Summer vacation"*** is a genius. Who's probably dead. Still a genius! Despite the fact that I'm working a lot, I wouldn't trade it for school. I love studying, I love learning, I just don't love the early mornings or piles of homework. I think I could get used to this "summer" thing.

There's more. There's always more. And that is excellent.

*Because come on: boys with French accents, Australian accents, Afrikaans accents, Scottish, Irish, Italian, German, Spanish, and all the other ones I'm leaving out! = too good to choose.

**This, of course, hinges on the fact that you can actually understand what they're saying!

***Probably a farmer, considering this is the time of year we're supposed to be harvesting our fields and killing our livestock and what not. I'll, uh, get right on that... We do have a lovely herb garden!

so old already

Yesterday my friend turned 16. Approximately 6 1/2 months ago, I turned 16. This may not be a big deal to you, but I'm growing up. I'm getting old. One day at a time.

I'm a nostalgic person. I don't want to be; I'd rather be in the present! Exciting! Trying new things and reveling in where I am right now! But I'm more sepia toned. I think about things. I day dream and I take a while to open up to people.

I feel like... I'm wasting my youth. I don't go out and party. I don't drink or do drugs. I've never had a boyfriend. By all stereotypes, I am someone aged between 13 and 19. I am not a teenager.

One day I'm going to look back on this and say, "I was so young and foolish." And so, to my future self, I say NO. NO STEP DOWN FROM YOUR SNOOTY, MATURE HIGH HORSE.

Yes, I am young and foolish. I am free spirited and idealistic and have dreams as big as the sky. And I will be young and foolish till the day I die.

feeling deathly hollow

I can vividly remember going camping with my family once: We stayed in a cramped tent that was much bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside and was in a bustling camp site. We were there for some kind of sports event, and everyone was selling and wearing signs and shirts with their teams colors. Then I remember smoke.

Something went wrong--there was a fire in the nearby forest, or the camp site, or something. Maybe one of the bonfires had gotten out of control.

I remember running.

I remember tripping and falling and desperately clawing at tree roots, trying to get back on my feet because we weren't just running; we were running away.

It took me a few years to realize that all these things didn't actually happen to me. It was the Quidditch World Cup in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. My dad read it to my brother and I before bed, and somehow I got so enraptured that it got melded in with my own memories.

Harry Potter is like that to me. It isn't just a book; it's a part of my life. And even though it's over (as of last night), it will always be home.

baby animal of the week: tapir

Does anybody remember this whole baby animal thing? I know I didn't. Here's your (belated) dose of cute for the week:

Baby Tapir!

I honestly don't even understand this animal. It looks like five different creatures put together into one. And yet... oddly adorable. Am I the only one who thinks this is so awkwardly cute it makes me want to "squee!" ?

when my words don't make sense anymore

Sorry for the extended leave of absence! I was away on my summer vacation--two words that hold a special place in my heart, right next to ice cream and getting things in the mail. And trust me, that means a lot when your town is a 7-hour drive from the nearest major city, and a 17-hour drive from your final destination.

And every year I am reminded of why it is so worth it to get out of town. Vancouver (a major Canadian city in southern BC, fyi) was celebrating it's 125th birthday with a 3 day festival in Stanley Park. They had performances from Canadian and international artists, like Said the Whale, Neko Case, Mother Mother, Aidan Knight and Dan Mangan. Their music was beautiful, the setting was amazing, and I'm so glad I went.

Here are some pictures from the official site, and I highly recommend you listen to some of their music, especially Aidan Knight and Dan Mangan, whom I may just have a massive crush on. They sound so beautiful, and we could all use something beautiful.

end of part one

Oooh, my head, it hurts. I came home early from work today because I was feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Now I'm lying on my couch, feeling like I should accomplish something with my new found, obligation-free hour.

I feel like the beginning of a book is a lot like the ending. Not just because you should tie back to the beginning themes to create a feeling of continuity, blah blah blah, but because the second you sit down and start typing/writing, one of your book's many lives is over. It will never be the perfect, beautiful, untouchable book of your imagination. Once it's out in the world, it's there for good.

Books go through many incarnations, from a messy, all-over-the-place first draft to a finely polished final copy. But they all have to start with an idea. At some point, all the books in the entire world were just ideas. I don't think you could find one book out there that reads the same as what the author originally imagined.

I know I should start my WIP, but I want to spend a few more days dreaming about it, picturing it in its untainted form. I don't want the beginning to be over quite yet.

there is so much

I think I'm going to go a bit crazy this summer. I can feel it coming on, like a cold or a bad hair day. I sense it.

I want to have one of those summers that people talk about for the rest of their lives. When I'm forty-three (like that'll happen), I can look back and say, "Wow, that summer of 2011 really was the summer of my life."

God, that's depressing. I hope I'm still having fun at forty-three.

I'm going to chop off my crazy curls, eat nothing but strawberry smoothies, and swing so high that the clouds reach out and pull me to them. Sunshine, sunshine, sky and stubble. If I could cast a spell on the world, I just might do it.

summer nights

I like evenings like tonight, when I've eaten just enough to feel full but not too much. When the sun is sinking lower on the horizon, tinting everything in golden hues. When my eyes are wide open and sparkling with excitement and good things.

I've decided to try and write another novel this summer. I hate how pretentious that sounds. Like, oh, in between reading some Faulkner and playing Sibelius's Finlandia on the oboe, I think I'll try to squeeze in my eighteenth novel.

Not so much. But I have written two novels. God, that sounds crazy. One in November for NaNoWriMo, and one in March/April this year because I wanted to prove I could. I love this stage, when you tentatively commit yourself to an exciting new idea. But I still have months to pick an idea, flesh out characters, find pictures for visual inspiration, plot out scenes... Honestly, the prewriting has to be my favorite part.

I don't mean outlining. Outlining... is more specific. What I like is scribbling my character's names in the margins of my homework, writing down scraps of information here and there, and seeing a person on the street only to do a double take when they look exactly like someone I'm writing about or someone I'd like to write about.

I like to spend about a month or two figuring it out. Thinking about it. Contemplating, if you will (again with the pretentiousness). What about you? What do you do to psych yourself up for a new project?

June is good. Summer is good. I think I could get used to days like this.

evolution

I was absolutely sure today would be sunny. So sure that I wore shorts--me! In shorts! It did get warm enough for people not to stare at my clothing choice like I was a complete idiot, but just a few minutes ago, it started raining. Not just raining, raining.

And then the sky started to growl.

I love thunderstorms. They're probably my favorite part of summer. Well, that and the raspberries.

I'm feeling a bit like the weather today. In transition. A few things that I thought either were or weren't important to me have been proving... different. I guess you never really know what's going to mean something to you. For instance, I thought I was over band. Sure, it's cool learning how to play an instrument, but the class can get stressful and tiring. But now? I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.

rapid fire

I. Am. Excited.

Know why? Because I am a teenager. I am 16 years old, and basically everything that happens to me has the ability to be a life-changing, earth-shattering, re-write-the-beating-of-my-heart experience. For example: prom.

Prom is one of those things, like grad or cosmic bowling (no? That one's just me?) that either make you excited, or make you pretend not to be. This year isn't technically my prom, just a year-end dance. I have the dress, the shoes, and plans for a big bonfire afterward. Sometimes I feel... like I am too much for my body to contain. I'm like a ball of energy and excitement. Like some dying galaxy that is collapsing in on itself, radiating heat and light and anger and love.

And sometimes, like now, I just want to quietly implode.

guess who's back

Hey guys!

So, um, I'm back. Yeah.

Sorry, let's try that one more time with a bit more hootzpuh: I'M BACK OH MY GOODNESS HEY!

All this time away has made me realize a couple things. For instance, if something doesn't make you happy, why keep it in your life? I know that's all lame and motivational-speaker-y, but really, why spend all your time on stuff that doesn't make you smile? For instance, right now I'm sitting on my couch, drinking a glass of water and typing this. Everything about this makes me feel A-okay.

Moving on... My grandparents are visiting this weekend. It's my brother's prom, followed by grad, which is crazy. He's going through all these life-affirming experiences, and here's me, still wearing a winter coat in May. I feel like I'm totally left behind.

I've also recently gotten into the habit of logging in on facebook, then just refreshing my home page every few minutes to see if anything interesting has happened. Nothing. Ever. Has.

Anyways, anyways, anyways. Maybe tomorrow I'll wear some shorts.

I'll miss you

Tomorrow, at the ungodly hour of 5 AM, I will be hopping on a soon-to-be smelly and disgusting hockey bus and beginning the seventeen hour drive to Music Fest Canada. Forgive me if my excitement is a little too palpable.

I get to spend my bus time with a bunch of people that I like, though. And despite the close quarters, icky food and lack of air conditioning, the bus ride is always one of my favorite parts of the band trip. So I'll see you in a week, dearest blog. Wish me luck :)

"Draw a crazy picture,
Write a nutty poem,
Sing a mumble-gumble song,
Whistle through your comb.
Do a loony-goony dance
'Cross the kitchen floor,
Put something silly in the world
That ain't been there before."

-Shel Silverstein

nowhere girl

I want to travel after I graduate. I want to visit all the continents and see new places and experience new cultures. But I like having my little nest--I like routine and I like having all my stuff and a place I'm used to. I love planning trips, though. Planning trips is like making to do lists. It all seems so brilliant and magical until you're actually there, actually doing everything. Sure, "visit open air market in Havana" might sound absolutely amazing, but when you're there, caked with sweat and stressed out from haggling or not-haggling over prices, it's a totally different experience.

It's... more real.

I think that's what makes me uncomfortable. I'm happy living this quiet, fictional life where everything is just so, and things happen according to the plot arc--but when things start to be really, well, real, you're completely vulnerable. And that can be a terrifying, incredible, wonderful thing.

I get so anxious over little and big things. It just comes naturally for me to over analyze and rethink everything. But reality isn't something you can pause while you work things out on the side.

Some days I don't feel like I'll find my fit anywhere. If I stay some place that I'm comfortable, I'll feel like I'm missing out. If I'm constantly on the move, I'll be in a constant state of mild-freaking-out. Maybe I'm just a nowhere girl.

In case you're wondering why I'm writing this, I'm going to be away next week on a band trip. Nowhere overly exotic (we're going to Vancouver, BC), but still a nice change. We're leaving Monday, hideously early in the morning, so I really need to start packing. Since I'm going to be one a bus for almost two days straight, I really need something to read. Something gripping enough to keep me interested even in the worst state of bus-blah, but not too heavy or thick.

Any book suggestions?

quote of the week

Lately I've been collecting quotes and sayings that inspire me or make me feel something... new. Powerful. Heart-pounding. At the bookstore I work at I get to choose a weekly quote to display, and I think I'm going to do the same thing here.

Quote! Of! The! Week!

"I want to see thirst
In the syllables,
Tough fire
In the sound;
Feel through the dark
For the scream."

—Pablo Neruda

pass

I think it's easiest to live in the past. In the present, it's all about what's happening right now. The decisions you make affect your life and everyone around you. And every moment you aren't taking advantage of is gone.

The future isn't too much better. It seems vast and full of possibilities, but the more you try to focus on those possibilities or what they could mean, the more suffocating the vastness can be.

The past is comforting. The past is nostalgic, sepia-toned, and tattered around the edges. It's already been edited by your mind into something ever so slightly different. I like to spend a lot of time in the past. So, to indulge myself, here are a few pictures from my family's past:

tickled pink

If, for some reason, I can't make a living out of writing (because even though I'm only 16 I regularly think about these things), I would love to be an interior designer. I get excited when I think about picking out paint colors, sewing accent pillows and accessorizing a bookshelf. My latest decorating obsession: pink.

I've never had a pink room. I was never a "girly girl" and, more importantly, my bedroom was always too messy to even see the walls (okay, minor exaggeration, but as for the floor? Practically nonexistent). My current bedroom has been yellow for just over two years, and I think it's time for a change. A bright pink sparkly change! Or something a little more sophisticated and calm--something pale pink and French looking. Whatever shade it is, I can't stop thinking pink:

band jokes

I've been playing the trumpet for almost five years. I love taking a deep breath, putting the cool metal to my lips, and making some noise. For the love of all things noisy, band-related and at least slightly musical, here are some bad-but-good band jokes for you:

Q: What do you call someone who hangs around with musicians?
A: A drummer.

Q: How many euphonium players does it take to change a light bulb?
A: What the heck is a euphonium?

Q: How many conductors does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: Only one, but then again, who's really watching?

Q: What's the difference between a basoon and a trampoline?
A: You take your shoes off to jump on the trampoline!

Q: What's the definition of a gentleman?
A: Someone who knows how to play the trumpet and doesn't.

Q: Why did Mozart kill his chickens?
A: Because they always ran around screaming, "Bach! Bach! Bach!"

What about you--do you play any instruments? Were you ever in a band, concert or otherwise?

to be read

TBR. Those three letters that send a swirling vortex of emotions howling through the very pit of my stomach. Wow, sorry that was such a poor analogy.

Working at a bookstore is fun, really, it is. But the ratio of time spent reading compared to time spent actually working is pretty shocking. Toss in the fact that I get a discount on books, and my To Be Read pile can pretty much be seen from space (I kid you not. NASA has sent me many threatening letters saying I'm blocking their view of North America).

Don't believe me? Take a look:

On the one hand, maybe I'm being a bit dramatic. It's not like I have to read all these books. But I want to! This particular collection (and yes, that is a pink hippo sitting on my bed. Say hi to Milk) consists of all the books that were sitting on my bookshelf that I haven't read, and am actually going to make an effort to read.

Guess what guys? While you may note that there are mostly YA books sitting on my bed (lounging, really), there are actually twelve non-YA books (either Adult Fiction or Biography). TWELVE. I think this is a sign. My taste in books is slowly growing up, even if I'm not.

These are the books I bought on my last Book Buying Binge (these things happen). A couple new releases and a couple books I've either been too lazy or too broke to buy previously. I'm currently reading Need by Carrie Jones, and the The Return: Nightfall, a Vampire Diaries novel by LJ Smith. Notice a trend? Yup, I don't think I'll ever get sick of Paranormal or Urban Fantasy. Although it my bed could be a little more comfortable...

the vampire diaries (or, how many times can you kill a character?)

(Contains spoilers of the Vampire Diaries book series--run and hide if you don't want to know!)

A couple weeks ago, I had this crazy idea to try reading the Vampire Diaries. One of my friends has been pushing it on me for a while, and the TV show (or at least the actors) is pretty good. So I got book one from the library. And now I'm halfway through the third volume.

I think the first book was my favorite--the writing itself wasn't anything overly special, but after only a few sentences I would have a total mental image of what I was reading. But with vampires, the whole I want to be with you forever, kill me and drink my blood and make me like you! topic inevitably comes up.

I think death has a special place in YA and fiction in general. I know a lot of people have complained about the lack of parents in YA. I personally don't mind, but I think that death has to affect your characters in a way that almost nothing else can. I've also read a lot of blog posts and articles that explicitly say you can't kill your characters at the beginning of the book. It just doesn't work.

When your characters die, they become something else--something that readers don't connect with nearly as much. This is true for me, anyways. In the vampire diaries, Elena (the MC) not only dies and becomes a vampire--she dies again, this time for good. But then she comes back as a child-like spirit thing. And then she turns into her old, human self.

Is your head spinning, too?

Not only is confusing to keep all the characters and their states of life-or-death straight, it makes it really difficult to connect to Elena when her personality keeps changing. To me, death in fiction is like the ultimate plot twist. It should be used only when absolutely necessary, it should affect everyone else to the very core of their being, and, once death happens, you can't back out of it.

happy birthday, MC

Tomorrow is my mom's birthday, so we've been scrambling over the past few days to buy presents and put together something (note the extreme vagueness, just in case she's reading this now. Hi mum!) for tomorrow night. In my week attempt to tie this back to writing, I was wondering, how does your MC celebrate their birthday?

I always order Indian food to go, and sit on the couch and watch a movie (preferably something funny and/or stupid). Harry Potter sits in his room at the Dursleys', eagerly awaiting presents and news from Ron and Hermione. Bella Swan probably stares at Edward all day.

Whoever you are and whatever your idea of a good time (ie: staring at Robert Pattinson) is, what you do on your birthday (and what you ask for, as presents) says a lot about you. The MC of the book I just finished, Lucy, spends her birthdays eating junk food and watching trashy movies at her best-friend-who's-a-human's house, then comes home to perform some birthday rituals with her Gran. Witches--crazy stuff.

How does your main character celebrate their birthday?

friday five: good things

Today was full of some wonderful stuff, so I'm going to try and resurrect the "Friday Five" idea, however briefly, with a list of good things:

• Breakfast. No matter how many times you say "most important meal of the day," breakfast is still seriously undervalued and often skipped. Here's to you, trusty cereal bowl. You make my mornings infinitely delicious.

• Sunshine. In April. This crazy natural phenomenon almost--almost--made me wish I was still taking PE. Then I remembered the sweaty change room, the horrendously embarrassing gymnastics unit, and my innate lack of talent for athletics. Still, the sun was nice.

• Libraries. Public libraries are like the universe's gift to completely broke teenage writer-reader-type-people. The only downside is that when a cute boy is working, I take out books that will make me look smart and interesting, rather than stuff I'll actually read...

• Weddings. I don't care if monarchies are largely outdated and symbolic rather than actually useful. I think they're darling, and a nice bit of history. Plus Wills and Kate are totally adorable. THEY HAD TREES INSIDE A CHURCH. So cool.

• Warm jackets on cool spring days. It's like curling up under your blankets--but portable! No way! Whoever invented jackets should run for prime minister, or something. Except they're probably dead.

Hope your 29 April was ab-fab, darlings. Have a lovely weekend,

Erika

The Dark and Hollow Places

If you haven't read the first two books in Carrie Ryan's brilliant, post-apocalyptic zombie trilogy, YOU NEED TO RIGHT NOW. They are not only extremely well written and thrilling--this post also contains some spoilers for the third book. So, run away and do some crazy reading. See you soon.

Please close the window unless you want some hardcore spoilers.

Okay, you're good?

Are you sure?

Well, alrighty then.


There are many things that Annah would like to forget: the look on her sister's face before Annah left her behind in the Forest of Hands and Teeth, her first glimpse of the Horde as they swarmed the Dark City, the sear of the barbed wire that would scar her for life. But most of all, Annah would like to forget the morning Elias left her for the Recruiters.

Annah's world stopped that day, and she's been waiting for Elias to come home ever since. Somehow, without him, her life doesn't feel much different than the dead that roam the wasted city around her. Until she meets Catcher, and everything feels alive again.

But Catcher has his own secrets. Dark, terrifying truths that link him to a past Annah has longed to forget, and to a future too deadly to consider. And now it's up to Annah: can she continue to live in a world covered in the blood of the living? Or is death the only escape from the Return's destruction?


Carrie Ryan's trilogy, named after the first novel "The Forest of Hands and Teeth", is basically the ultimate combination as far as fiction goes: a fast paced plot that makes it impossible to put down, and a deep, often painful emotional quality that makes the stakes incredibly high.

Before I go on, we need to get one thing straight. I am terrified of zombies. The idea of them--the living dead--as an unstoppable, emotionless force that could one day take over the world, eating and killing everything in their path. Yeah, it freaks me out.

The zombies in Carrie Ryan's go by many names. Unconsecrated, Forsaken, Mudo, plague rats. They're slow moving and not too bright, but they move like a tidal wave, unstoppable and unshakable. The action in Ryan's novels is totally edge-of-your-seat, can't-put-down-even-to-cross-the-street good. This third book was especially amazing. The main character, Annah, is super strong and totally independent. She's willing to do anything to keep herself--and the people that she loves--safe. She's one of those people that you would definitely want to be friends with, but also never ever cross.

I think my favorite part of the whole book, though, is how little it sounded like someone had actually written it. I'm guessing that didn't make any sense, let me rephrase it: the writer was completely invisible. When there was narration, it was all Annah talking. I've heard this bit of advice many, many times, but I never really understood it until reading this book.

You just put yourself in their place, breathe with their lungs and feel the beat of their heart. And that's what Carrie Ryan did, superbly.

I'M DONE!

Yesterday night I finished the first draft of my WIP which is currently named Something Wicked. It's about witches, curses, boys, forests, spells, potions, spirits and other fun stuff. Okay, because I'm sure that gave you so much information, I'll have a better description for you soon. For tonight: No writing! No creating! No thinking outside the word document!

It sounds awful. It sounds like some kind of cruel punishment. But for tonight, it is just the kind of release I need.

Also, the rare second I wasn't working diligently on my WIP (ahem, actually, I think I qualify for a Nobel Prize in Procrastination), I found some cool interwebs-type-stuff.

• Letters to Dead People is a tumblr blog with pictures of, well, letters to dead people. It's a project started by Celine Song, but she also takes suggestions. It's a bit depressing, sometimes hilarious, and often unspeakably beautiful.
• Tim Walker, a photographer whose fantastical, bizarre pictures have been featured in copies of Vogue all over the world.
• Living Etc, a British home decor magazine that never fails to be colorful, original, and totally inspirational. Did I mention that I'm going to be painting my room this spring? Pink! Pink! Pink! I feel like Evie :)

And now, a little bit of everything:

Erika feels accomplished right now. I can't believe I've written two novels in my life. Maybe one day someone else will get to read them.

Hope you had a great Easter, everybody.

Erika