baby animal of the week: hedgehog

Because I forgot...

Just something cute to get you through the day :)

we are choices

So I mentioned a few days ago that I am horrible at making decisions. Really. I will complain for hours, ask the opinion of everyone within earshot, worry constantly, and get super stressed out when I'm forced to make a decision. And that's usually just minor stuff--what color should I paint my room? Should I pierce my nose? Do these jeans make my butt look big? (Kidding about the last one, by the way. If my butt's big, it's going to look big no matter what I'm wearing, and I'll be proud of it!)

When it comes to minor choices, I freak out. I think that's because I'm so terrified of getting something wrong. My whole life, I have gotten things right. I get straight As, I practice things, I memorize facts and I answer questions. I know that makes me sound horribly conceited, and I'm sorry, but it really isn't a good thing.

Major decisions, I can usually figure out. Give me a few days, or maybe weeks, and I eventually decide what's best for me. Like yesterday, for example, when I decided the classes I'll be taking next year.

No big deal, right? But these courses determine which classes I take in grade eleven, as well as which courses I'm able to take in grade twelve, and which subjects I can study in university.

I'm taking a whole ton of academic courses: Bio, Physics, Chemistry, Pre-Calculus, English, Socials, French and--my one fun class--Photography.

For some reason, even though I know I've made the right choice for me, I'm gripped by this awful fear. I don't want to get this wrong. I don't want to get my life wrong.

So there we go. I just wanted to vent, I'm sorry. Life is stressful, life is anxious, life is... distinctly wonderful. And I hope I've made the right decision--I hope I will be happy--but even if I haven't, even if I'm not, I won't regret anything.

excuses, excuses

Good evening, my friends,

I'm sorry, I do realize it's been 12 days since I last posted anything. I spent my spring break in a rather uneventful fashion, visiting my dad in the small town he's been working in. The downtown was small and lonely. As someone who has spent her entire life in a small town surrounded by mountains, it shocks me that other places are so open, so unguarded. On the plus side, I got to ride the train, reading trashy magazines. Very posh.

I'm attempting to work on a story right now. I'm only 8k in, and it already needs some serious work. Maybe I'll finish the first draft first, maybe I won't. It's awfully exciting, though, starting something new. I have an idea of what will happen, and what needs to happen, but there's so many possible directions I could take it in...

It's quite daunting, all the choices. This coming from a girl who takes up to twenty minutes to decide between breakfast cereals. Yeah.

Hope your spring is off to a fabulous start :)

Erika

where do you write?

Happy Wednesday, world.

I just wanted to post quickly to ask you a question that's been bugging me a lot lately:

Where do you write?

I don't have any space in my house that is clean and orderly and, well, inspiring. All those beautiful pictures of nice and neat offices or libraries, painted bright yellow or soothing green... Yeah, not happening. But I think it would be fantastic to have a space wholly devoted to writing and creating. Especially a cork-board for pictures or outlining to hang above your writing space.

Yeah, that'd be awesome.

So where do you do your writing? Do you have a dream office, or a cupboard under the stairs? At least Harry Potter was organized.

teaser wednesday

Believe it or not, I was totally stoked for yesterday. Why? Because it just isn't the same to do Teaser Tuesday on a Wednesday.

As some of you may know, I've started writing a YA Urban Fantasy novel. And when I say started, I really do mean barely-have-any-words-written. I'm on page three, guys. But I'm excited, and I'm happy, and it's about witches, which I love. And these are the first two paragraphs:

I love to watch my grandmother work. Her bony hands are a blur as she chops a piece of ginger into fine ribbons. When she’s happy with the ginger, she dumps it into the cauldron simmering away over the fire. Yup, you read that right. Gran thinks making potions on the stove—or, God forbid, in the microwave—is practically sacrilege. Says the woman who stores her eye of newt in a Tupperware container.

My grandmother is a witch. Or, at least, that’s one word for it. I like to think of her as more of a healer. She makes potions and poultices for everything from tooth aches to ingrown toe nails. And she’s allergic to cats. I don’t think you’re allowed to call yourself a witch unless you have a black cat.

Anyways... I need to get back to work! See you later.

Erika

baby animal of the week: arctic fox

Good evening, blogosphere. So, my 16th birthday was in January, which means that I can take a test to get my learner's permit to drive. But... I haven't studied. I'm just starting now, which is very bad. Also, it's near blizzard conditions outside, so I'm not sure this whole 'driving' thing is a good idea.

I know, I know, that's not why you're looking at this. Without further ado:

It looks so warm!