this is the heartbeat that just catches itself
this is the heartbeat that just catches itself
Holy crud. Since when is it December twentieth? No one asked me if this was okay!
That means there are four more not-Christmas days until Christmas, today not included. You know how many presents I’ve bought? ZERO! I have bought zero presents! Zero is THIS many:
This is unbelievable! Unacceptable! Completely and utterly not okay! I haven’t gotten around to writing any super cool Christmas-themed stories. Heck, I haven’t even put up a tree yet. I’ve been doing some serious slacking. We need some Christmas up in here!
After finals today, a friend of mine (who happens to be agnostic Jewish) wished me a Merry Christmas. And I was like, “SHOOT! CHRISTMAS! I ALMOST FORGOT!”
I have been so caught up stressing out and going on the internet to avoid studying that Christmas has barely crossed my mind. Everyone’s asking me, “So what do you want for Christmas?”
And I just want to say, “How am I supposed to know?”
Maybe I’ll just ask for some Christmas for Christmas. Seriously. Just a deep breath, a cup of hot chocolate, and a nap. That would be great, thanks. And how about some mistletoe, when you’re at it?
Just when I thought my stress was going to be over for the next two-ish weeks, the holiday season has to start blinking its warning signs at me. Not cool. SO not cool. I just hope there’s enough time left to deal with it.
It’s hard to believe that today is the first day of December. Only yesterday, it would seem, was October; now Thanksgiving and Black Friday are a thing of the past. There have been some little whispers of snow in the sky, but nothing that survived on the ground for 24 hours. And yet, winter feels close.
Winter is a great season for a few reasons. For starters, there’s the joy of the holidays and all they entail. Go a little deeper, and you’ll remember the good times of childhood building snowmen and snow forts, and then coming inside with a pink nose to hot chocolate and the weird prickly feeling of warming up. For me, winter goes beyond that, to be an inspiration and maybe even an emotion.
Christmas is a big thing at my house, as it is with most who celebrate it, but it has bigger implications for me personally. Each snowflake, each blistery gust of wind, has a story inside it. Something I like to do is find those stories and write them.
Maybe this sounds crazy. Maybe it is crazy. However, the entire season of winter for me is an inspiration. I can find anything in it: survival in the cold, holiday romance, or frozen, broken hearts; maybe even someone coming in contact with innocent joy like one would an old friend. You name it. I’ll find it.
Last year, the coming of spring scared me. It brought the idea that the ink flowing from my pen might come to a halt. Nearly everything I wrote between December 21 to March 19 had to do with winter, even indirectly, and I predict that this year will be the same. It’s a fantastic thought.
Considering the amount of writing that has come from me recently (not a lot), the coming solstice will be a welcome change. And for that and everything else that comes with it, I can’t wait for winter.
Ciao for now,
I simply cannot wait until Halloween.
I know it’s not for another week and two days. Don’t remind me. I actually have a countdown app on my phone just for this holiday.
So far, the spooky season has been working out for me. A wonderful dress at Goodwill actually worked out, so I’m going as “Zombie Prom.” It’s going to be creepy-tastic.
There’s nothing not to like about Halloween. There’s candy, there are happy children, there are cheesy horror flicks, and there’s a great excuse to cosplay. It appeals to almost every demographic you can name. It’s just as commercial as Christmas, too: stores pop up in September that cater only to this festival of the frightening; Americans spend $370 million on pet costumes alone. Really, it’s the coolest holiday on the calendar. It rarely disappoints.
Remember when you were a child, trick-or-treating? the way complete strangers smiled as they passed out sweets? how you screamed at the plastic heads hanging in trees in front lawns? That’s the point of Halloween. Finally, a holiday dedicated solely to enjoyment. It’s just what everyone needs as they get settled into the stressful end-of-summer routines of school and work.
That’s why I’m crossing my fingers and begging Halloween to come sooner. For the love of fun!
Ciao for now,
They squiggle upward on a spiral staircase
to heaven, and when they
arrive they explode with joy and
shudder a booming heartbeat
that ricochets off the trees and the
buildings and takes a nose-dive
into a chest, where
it replaces a heart’s own pulse for
half a second; they
light up the whole sky, from edge to edge,
filling it with long, spindly
fingers and a delicate plume of
purple feathers, in the shape of a
mushroom cap, and these dissipate
into golden diamond shimmers that
flutter and dance and split off
in triads, and glitter like the sparkles
on a dress of a fabulous lady in an old movie; they
diffuse their glow onto the entire
audience, diffuse the attention
from the circular lights of children’s necklaces, put
everyone in the spotlight but make themselves the stars;they
leave behind a chorus of “oo” and “ah
and breathless “wow” and drunken “holy––
as if to glorify themselves through the same vessels that
they present themselves to; they give their presence to
lesser beings who are far from
worthy; and, for their time on stage, they
are deities, idols, wide-open doors
to the majestic, creatures of the night too
complex for us to understand; they
paint the pictures of perfection; they
leave a web of awe until the cycle starts
It’s National Star Wars day, and I don’t think I could be a true fan if I didn’t say a little something for one of the greatest movie series of all time. (Original trilogy, of course.)
There are a lot of reasons why I appreciate Star Wars, and here are five:
2. Princess Leia is one of the best girl characters of all time.
3. Yoda taught me, “Do or do not do; there is no try.”
4. It helped me connect with the people that really understand me.
5. The movies made me interested in sci-fi.
I have lots of friends who just don’t “get” Star Wars, which is okay. I won’t hold that against them. (That’s not true; I’ll just try not to think about my sad, bottom-dwelling friends who will never understand what is to live.)
Without Star Wars, I wouldn’t have much to fangirl about. Because when push comes to shove, I don’t have a lot of interests that have characters and plot lines (that someone else made) and I need to hold onto Star Wars because it empowers the nerd within me, and makes me who I am. Without Star Wars, considering asking someone out wouldn’t have taken so long. My life would have less humor and joy. I wouldn’t be able to wear a shirt with Darth Vader walking an AT-AT and feel like that’s socially acceptable.
A lot of people have been looking with dread upon the Disney revival of the series, but that person is not writing this post. I hope that, since it didn’t happen today, the first Disney Star Wars movie goes into theaters in exactly one year. So that on National Star Wars day I can wear my previously-described tee and waltz into a theater and feel like one of the greatest nerd-fans of all time.
Ciao for now,
P.S. Here are some great Star Wars jokes to laugh at!
“What color are you getting?” Amy asked, drumming her fingers against the arm of the chair.
“Red?” Amy questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Why red?”
“Because,” Daryl answered, “Valentine’s Day is coming and red suits the occasion.”
“Yes, but you’ll have to have it way past Valentine’s Day.”
“Alright?” Amy was puzzled. “I thought guys hated Valentine’s Day.”
Daryl shrugged, saying, “Only some of us, I guess.” Then, realizing how that sounded, he added, “It’s not that I love it or anything. I just don’t hate it.”
“If you don’t love it, then why are you getting red brackets?”
A woman in a light blue uniform called for Daryl.
“I gotta go, Amy,” he shrugged, a rue smirk on one half of his mouth. Amy rolled her eyes in response.
She knew for a fact now that he was planning to invite Felicity to the Valentine’s Day Party that Dan Coledike threw every year. Her fingers kept drumming against the arm of the chair. Felicity was an incredibly decent person who, for no apparent reason, was still single. Amy herself was planning on getting an invitation from Clark, a tall-dark-handsome type with a quick wit and the most amazing sense of humor that anyone’s ever had. His smile was so perfect that just by looking at him
Felicity is obviously who Daryl likes, even if he hasn’t come out and said it yet. It’s the way that he looked away from her whenever she came into the room, not like he was mad at her but like he didn’t want to be caught looking at her. Amy wondered if she did that whenever Clark walked into a room. But that would make sense, because Clark was easily the most attractive person she’d ever met. He had these eyes that were blue, not like a light blue or a gray blue, but a blue like the blue that the top of the sky is in the middle of the day. He had the most amazing eyes that put her in a trance every time he
Amy would have to talk Daryl into asking Felicity. She didn’t care how long it took, as long as he did what he really wanted to do in his heart.
Amy’s fingers drummed faster and harder than before.
Daryl thought about Kyle. Kyle was who Amy liked. It was really obvious that she did. Not sure what gave it away, but it was really obvious. Daryl hated Kyle. Daryl hated the way Kyle would laugh through his nose like he was a choking walrus. That stupid obnoxious laugh. The way he flirted with every girl he’s ever met, and then some. Whether or not he’s interested. He hated how he made Amy like him, if even Daryl himself couldn’t. Daryl couldn’t get her to bat an eyelash at the idea that they could be more than friends. Not that he’d tried so much. Clark tried. Clark tried every day. Clark wanted to ask her to Dan Coledike’s Valentine’s Day party. He might have had the guts to, but Daryl didn’t. Daryl couldn’t come close, not even after being her friend for a year. He felt like a wuss next to Clark. Clark planned on asking her. Why couldn’t he? What made him so cautious?
A woman called for Amy.
“What color are you getting?” Daryl asked Amy as she walked in and took the heavily padded seat next to him.
“Pink,” she said. “For Valentine’s Day.”
He gave her a genuine smile. “Copying my idea?”
She shrugged, making a face that said maybe all on its own. “Maybe… Hmm. Can I tell you something, Daryl?”
“Can you promise not to overreact?”she begged.
“Promise,” she ordered.
“I like Clark.”
Daryl gasped. “Really? Not Kyle?”
“Kyle?” she demanded, then, in a more deliberate tone, “Kyle? Why would I like Kyle?”
“I thought you did, is all.”
“Okay, that works.” She smiled, then said, “Would I be correct to assume that you like Felicity?”
Daryl shook his head in a part-mocking, part-intensely-disagreeing way. “You would be very wrong to assume that.”
“Who do you like then?”
“I’ll tell you later, maybe.”
“Are you okay, Daryl?”
“Yeah, just tired.”
“If you say so.”
“Do you know what color you want, or would you like to see the chart?” someone in blue asked.
“Silver,” Daryl answered. “Because it’s cold out, you know?”