In Which I Analyze My Own Character by Means of Fictional Ones

Two orders of business: firstly, if my language sounds stiff it is because for the past week I’ve been studying St. Thomas More for school, and having both read a book by William Roper on the subject and finished watching A Man for All Seasons less than an hour ago, using contractions seems… odd.

Secondly, I am writing this in a notebook on the way to Algebra tutoring, as I have limited my computer time to an hour a day for Lent – because of which the blog has suffered. Suffice to say, it’s Holy Week now, so I should be back in the swing of things post-Easter. (Speaking of, I’m so excited!)

On Saturday I got into a discussion about my favorite characters in books and movies, and how they all tend to be grouchy or unpleasant. It’s not the case 100% of the time, but it seems that more often than not the characters I like the most are the endearingly (I think) cranky ones. I think it’s interesting to contrast the characters I most relate to with the ones I most admire – I think it says something about who I am.

When I was younger, I always loved the fiery characters: the ones with the bright red hair and the sizable tempers – usually in the form of princesses who refuse to marry and go off to be knights or something instead. I admired feistiness. (Still do.)

Aside from this, I’ve always had a love for the snarky and slightly cranky characters: Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street, Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh (funnily enough, I was never too fond of Rabbit – I liked Tigger too much, I guess: “T-I-double-guh-errrr…”), Lucy from Peanuts, Miss Piggy from the Muppets, Grumpy from Snow White, Constance, the sleepy, grouchy, hyper-intelligent three-year-old from The Mysterious Benedict Society…

I think I loved them because they were a little like me: sarcastic, a little bit pessimistic, and overly fond of scowling. (I like to pretend I’m more mature now, but as I routinely make displeased groaning noises, roll around on the floor in protest of things, bare all my teeth like an uneasy chimpanzee when someone pulls out a camera, and frequently use the word “Pooh!” as an expletive, well… I perjure myself if I deny the evidence.) As I’ve grown, this affinity for the characters everyone else thought were mean grew with me – I still have it.

I love Artemis Fowl and I have loved him from book 1, even when he was kind of a jerkface who, despite his genius, didn’t quite have any common sense. I love Holden Caulfield, who’s a little annoying. I love these characters not only because they personify my lack of patience with a good 90% of society, but also because they have hearts, and big ones – you just have to look for them. The crankiest people are really the biggest softies…. You just have to crack the shell. (But you knew that, I’m sure you’ve seen Up.) Artemis and Holden are scornful by nature, and big sissies inside. I love them.

Looking to literature, the characters I identify with speak volumes about me, but the characters I idealize speak just as much.

For example, in my favorite Shakespeare play, Much Ado About Nothing, I am very much like Beatrice – a little rude, witty, always looking for a laugh… and sometimes I can be unintentionally mean. However, as dear as Beatrice is to my heart (especially how she melts for Benedick), I long to be more like the Lady Hero. (You’re getting insight into my name, if you haven’t caught onto that yet.) Hero is cheerful, goodnatured, mild, and polite… She is liked by all, laughs a lot, but can pull off a wicked prank when she wants to.

This says nothing about myself that I didn’t already know; when asked what I would change about myself, I always say I wish I wasn’t quite so loud. Gentleness and a cheerful temperament are things with which I was not born, just a desire for them. I am not Snow White, I’m a bit like Alice – tripping over my own feet as I get lost in my insane Wonderland – shouting at things and being clumsy. It’s a bit of divine irony, that I was born as a Beatrice who wants desperately to be a Hero. (Though, if memory serves, the original Beatrice wants to be more like her cousin, too.)

At the same time, I do recognize that while this divine irony exists, God made me as I am for a reason. My mom told me once that when other homeschool moms said they wouldn’t let their daughters do this or that because they wanted them to have a “quiet soul”, she thought it was frankly ridiculous – some people are born with quiet souls, but others are not… After all, becoming a saint takes audacity as well as humility. That being said, let’s keep going with this analysis.

The next character is Jo March, from Little Women. I love Jo – I love how she’s tomboyish and loves to read and isn’t always a little ray of sunshine. She accidentally sets things on fire and isn’t afraid to scowl. She’s got a big heart and an even bigger personality. I relate to Jo very much, but I relate to Meg as well, in her love of pretty things and, well, her vanity. Of the “little women”, I most admire Beth – once again, for her quiet, cheerful gentleness.

I want to be a saint and I want to be meek and ladylike. I’m not – I try, but I’m not predisposed to it – so my track to sainthood looks more like the track of St. Athanasius, who used his stubborn and argumentative nature to debate and defeat heresy, or St. Thomas More, who stood true to the Church in difficult times. A Man for All Seasons portrays St. Thomas as stubborn, resolute, and a little bit of a crank. I am more like him than St. Therese of Liseaux or St. Bernadette – I’m loud, and I think I’m loud for a reason. I need to figure out how to be a saint in my own boisterous fashion.

The rest of this post is devoted to Jane Austen, as she’s been on my mind thanks to the Lizzie Bennet Diaries ending and the fact that I worked a quote from her into my Richard III paper and I am exceeding pleased by it. (“The Character of this Prince has been in general very severely treated by Historians, but as he was York, I am rather inclined to suppose him a very respectable Man.”) There are two Austen characters that I’ve been told I’m quite similar to: Emma, from the novel of the same name, and Lizzy from Pride and Prejudice (specifically in the incarnation of Lizzie from the Diaries –  Frankie once asked me if I’d gotten some of my mannerisms from her; I hadn’t.)

I’m like Emma & Lizzy both in my frequent inability to think before I speak. Emma likes to meddle – I’m kind of meddlesome. My friend Nick calls me a matchmaker: I don’t like to sit and watch things happen if I can help along the process. I am, as D says, a mite “pushy”. I also see a similarity to myself in the way Emma acts rashly and then bitterly regrets it. “It was badly done, Emma.” Boy, do I know the feeling. As for Lizzy, I am predisposed to judge – all too quickly, it seems – only to have my opinions change upon further inspection. Like Lizzy, I am sometimes injured by those of the male race – and have to cope by proclaiming them losers and laughing at them, vowing to become an old maid, like Lizzy does, because there’s not really anything else I can do unless I want to go mad. I also see myself in how Lizzy always has a snappy comeback and isn’t afraid to admit her shortcomings. I wish I was Jane, but I’m not, and that’s okay. In 16 years of life, if I’ve learned one thing, it’s to like who I am. If I don’t, everything becomes grey and miserable. In fact, there’s a St. Catherine of Siena quote that fits the situation quite well: “What is it you want to change? Your hair, your face, your body? Why? For God is in love with all those things and He might weep when they are gone.” Why do I want to change myself? Adopting virtue, growing in grace, those are good things to change about myself. But to throw myself over entirely and become someone else? Would God weep?

So I’m me: Emma/Jo/Lizzy/Meg/Alice/Thomas More/Mr. Frederickson/Holden/Oscar the Grouch. I am loud, stubborn, hardworking, snarky, outgoing, unabashed, meddlesome, clumsy, spirited, and I never shut up. But I have a heart so big it sometimes makes me wish I had otherwise, and like Lizzie, Jo, and Beatrice, I can see when I need to step back and strive for the virtue of Jane, Beth, and Hero.

Well.

I try, at least.

Best wishes and much love to you all,
Hero

Save ALL the babies!

Disclaimer: I’m emotionally volatile today. Perhaps this post can explain why.

Today in Washington D.C., an estimated 500,000 people have gathered to defend the rights of those who cannot defend themselves: the unborn.

Since Roe v. Wade was passed 40 years ago in 1973, 55 million unborn children have been ripped from their mothers’ wombs. That’s 55 million babies killed. One third of my generation is missing because of abortion. That’s completely unacceptable.

As I write this, the March for Life is going on. In addition to being an awesome witness for the strength and the resolve of the pro-life community, the March for Life also happens to be a magical event where almost all of my best school friends from all over the country come together – not only to march, but also for a dance, and lots of fun times being doofuses at the hotel… Most importantly, they’re together.

I’m in the peculiar situation of having some of my closest friends being miles and miles away. I’ve never met any of them. Because my homeschool curriculum has classes online and a community of students that exists on the internet, you find it possible – through the wonders of email, Skype, and cell-phones – to cultivate meaningful friendships without seeing the other person face to face.

This is awesome, but it has its drawbacks. Drawback number one? Not seeing them face to face. The main reason I feel so sad today is because so many of my friends are in D.C. together this weekend – not only did Morgann fly up on Wednesday, but two of the sweetest, greatest girls ever are there, some of my fellow moderators on our forum as well as a plethora of our members; and lest I forget, the greatest, most infuriating guy of all time – Nick. I never thought I’d say this, but I am supremely disappointed that he’s not getting to make fun of my ice cream addiction IRL.

I think the worst thing is that I almost got to go. I was so close; but even though I am first and foremost a Catholic and the pro-life cause is so important, I do have a responsibility and have made a commitment to my orchestra. Our next concert is next week and I couldn’t miss our rehearsal to go to the March. I know now, as this week is playing out, that I made the right decision in not going, but that doesn’t make me miss my friends any less.

Still, I am turning out to support life. Tomorrow I’m heading up to the rally here in my state with the usual gang. My brother and I have made posters (they’re Doctor Who themed, because we’re nerds). I’m excited – we always have a blast on the bus ride up and we’re headed to a party afterward, so that’s even better.

Photo on 1-25-13 at 3.10 PM

(My brother’s)
Photo on 1-25-13 at 3.11 PM

(Mine)

As exciting and compelling as the various marches and rallies are, they are still a hugely sad event. Thinking about it has been the second reason why I keep bursting into tears today. We’re fighting because there’s a genocide sweeping our nation and our world. We’re murdering millions of innocents – the most innocent creature there is: an unborn child who cannot survive outside the womb – and it’s totally legal. I just don’t understand how the heck that’s okay. I really don’t.

I leave you with a few quotes:

“To assert that a human being is only present once a specific anatomic landmark has been achieved is absurd. The argument is analogous to pointing at a construction site where the foundation has been dug but no concrete yet has been poured, and asserting, “Clearly there is no building company involved in this, because there isn’t yet a structure sufficient to be called a ‘building.’ We must wait until at least six stories have been completed.” This argument confuses the product of construction with the existence of an agent capable of doing the construction. If we must wait until a certain level of structure exists before we conclude a builder/contractor is present, how do we explain all of the many orderly events that occur prior to this point? Does the organized assembly of concrete, girders, glass, wire, pipes, and countless other components just happen spontaneously?

Analogously, does a collection of human cells just so happen to put together eyes, fingers, internal organs, and countless other structures in a coherent, integrated manner, and then wait for “consciousness” to breathe life into this amalgam of random parts? Clearly, this is an argument that cannot be rationally maintained in the face of factual evidence.”

– The Science and Politics of Personhood

“Lord Jesus,

You who faithfully visit and fulfill with your Presence the Church and the history of men; You who in the miraculous Sacrament of your Body and Blood render us participants in divine Life and allow us a foretaste of the joy of eternal Life; We adore and bless you.

Prostrated before You, source and lover of Life, truly present and alive among us, we beg you.

Reawaken in us respect for every unborn life, make us capable of seeing in the fruit of the maternal womb the miraculous work of the Creator, open our hearts to generously welcoming every child that comes into life.

Bless all families, sanctify the union of spouses, render fruitful their love.

Accompany the choices of legislative assemblies with the light of your Spirit,so that peoples and nations may recognize and respect the sacred nature of life, of every human life.

Guide the work of scientists and doctors, so that all progress contributes to the integral well-being of the person, and no one endures suppression or injustice.

Give creative charity to administrators and economists, so they may realize and promote sufficient conditions so that young families can serenely embrace the birth of new children.

Console the married couples who suffer because they are unable to have children and in Your goodness provide for them.

Teach us all to care for orphaned or abandoned children, so they may experience the warmth of your Charity, the consolation of your divine Heart.

Together with Mary, Your Mother, the great believer, in whose womb you took on our human nature, we wait to receive from You, our Only True Good and Savior, the strength to love and serve life, in anticipation of living forever in You, in communion with the Blessed Trinity.”

– Pope Benedict XVI’s Prayer for the Unborn

Also, you should read this.

Love and prayers go out to all of you in D.C. today. To my friends who are there, I miss you so much and it breaks my heart that I’m not with you.

Best wishes,
Hero

A Series of Lists

I think the worst part about making promises on a blog is that I can’t lie and pretend y’all misheard me and that I said I was going to post on Monday, not whatever silly day you thought I was going to… Because then you could just pull up the post before this one and call me out on being a loser.

Which I’d deserve. Because I am a loser.

But, anyway. Here’s a series of lists of excuses and things I’m into and maybe some resolutions and stuff.

Excuses

1. I promised pictures of my room… But my camera that committed suicide last month (or the month before that) has not miraculously revived itself yet, so I don’t have any pictures.

2. Also, it’s a mess.

3. I could take pictures with my mom’s phone of my bathroom, since it’s nearly done, but I have to put up my Little Mermaid posters first and they’re still at Essie’s house in a box somewhere and I have to retrieve them and it’s raining and I can’t go fetch a box in the rain.

4. I decided to be studious and take a religion test that I was supposed to take a week ago last night instead of writing this post, except I was so afraid of doing poorly on it that I took an hour and a half and didn’t finish until ten o’clock because Tanith called me in the middle of it and it’s entirely her fault I swear.

5. I am very tired. I only had two cups of coffee today and they didn’t help.

6. It’s raining. That’s somehow relevant and blame-worthy.

7. The Packers won last night and I was too busy rejoicing to post. Yes.

Reasons Why October is Awesome

1. I turn 16 this month! Yikes!

2. I take the PSAT. Wait. No. That’s not good.

3. HALLOWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN! *flails* I love Halloween. The one day of the entire year when it’s socially acceptable to wear a costume everywhere.

4. Chair auditions for my orchestra…? Erm…? Maybe that’s a good thing.

5. We have a dance this month! And every month! But this month especially! Yay!

6. I now live in the fun neighborhood, with Landon and Essie and Tanith! And the house is full of boxes and I have no idea which light switches do what and we have no food in the fridge. Ugh. So, basically, fun times.

7. The new Taylor Swift album is out this month! 😀

Things I’m Into This Month

1. NEWSIES. As is obvious. Kelli gave me the final shove and I’ve now got it on hold at the library! 🙂

2. I just discovered the Addams Family musical the other day… ‘One Normal Night’ is one of my favorite songs ever. “Were you folks right for the Mezzanine? Who’s to say.”

3. Rain! I don’t know if rain is something you can be “into”, but it’s been raining all week, and that’s not something that happens often here. When I get home from Algebra tutoring today, I might try and dig my rain boots out of whatever ridiculous box they’re in (I’ll never find them) and go stomp around in the puddles. Of course, the rain has a dark side: our dogs are tracking muddy footprints abso-blooming-lutely (if you get that reference, I love you) all over the kitchen.

4. Sweaters. It’s still too warm here for sweaters, but we’ve had a bit of breeze this week so I’ve been using that as an excuse to wear sweaters. I mean, come on! It’s October! Could we please stop having sweaty humid days and let the leaves fall already?

The Most Annoying Things About Moving

1. I don’t know what any of these light switches do. There are a hundred light switches in the breakfast nook I’m sitting in right now, and I know what exactly TWO of them do because my mom got so sick of flipping the wrong switch that she pulled out the label maker and labeled them.

2. My room is a mess and I don’t even have all my stuff in it. I haven’t gotten anything organized, so the entire room looks like something exploded.

3. I’m now behind in all my schoolwork. I sent in a chemistry test today that was due on Friday. *fumes*

4. Loads of things are still packed. I had to go bum a stamp and envelope off Landon and Stella to mail the aforementioned chemistry test (that hopefully I didn’t fail – this chapter was hard, I had to call in Frankie for moral support/tutoring).

5. We only have one TV and it’s in the loft, right next to my room. (I’m the only one upstairs.) Which means my dad watches TV late into the night right outside my door with the surround sound on. Because he can.

6. I wasn’t able to practice my cello all week, and now that I’ve picked it up again (chair auditions next Sunday! Agh!), my fingers are falling to pieces. Again. (By falling to pieces I mean that I get blisters on top of my calluses because my calluses are divas or something and refuse to help me out, and so those blisters break and peel and the skin on my fingertips look like they’re falling apart. Ugh. It’s gross, but whatcha gon’ do? Grin and bear it.)

I’m going to go now, get back to my schoolwork so Tanith and I can go puddle-stomping this evening (provided she finishes her school). (She won’t.) I will try my very hardest to get my room cleaned and organized so I can take some preliminary pictures and get them up tomorrow!

Thanks for reading! I love you all! Sorry about being late.

Again.

~Hero

P.S. Resolutions

1. I have one resolution this month: to do a daily devotional. I have a little reading corner in my new room, so I’m going to try to curl up with the Bible readings for the day and a cup of coffee and my journal, and start my day off right. 🙂

BEDA Day 17: The Final Installment

Part 1
Part 2

I’m pretty much sick of talking about art camp, so I’m wrapping things up here. To tie off any loose ends, I’m gonna show you my artwork and then mention that boy who I said would become relevant and maybe some other things, depending on how I feel at the end of this post. 😉

That’s a photo of my little gallery at our exposition. I may post close ups of these if you guys want me to. In the top right corner is an arcimboldo – the technique is to arrange fruits and vegetables into a face and then paint the fruit/vegetables. Mine isn’t the best, but here’s an example of an original Arcimboldo.

Next to that is a mask I did that was supposed to represent opposites – I did night and day, obviously, but I wish I’d done happy and sad instead. Next to the mask is a felted piece – Counting Sheep. Next to thaaaaat is a mandala – I really enjoyed making that. You create and circular symmetrical design (the mandala) and do each quadrant of it in a different sort of media – I used colored paper, metallic paper, watercolor, chalk, acrylic paints, and metallic markers.

(Note: I just went to go find the mandala and photograph it for you, but it has apparently been packed. Here’s a real mandala for your enjoyment instead. It’s not multi-media, obviously.)

Underneath the mandala is my masterpiece from the week. On Wednesday we were instructed to grab some paint and do a 16×20 canvas painting in three hours. I grabbed every tube of blue acrylic paint in the classroom, waltzed up to Miss Pam and said, “I want to do a Modigliani/Picasso cross in monochromatic blue.” She laughed for an inordinate amount of time before congratulating me on my death wish.

As you can see, I’m still alive, and the painting turned out well – though Picasso didn’t show up as much as I’d originally intended. Because I painted her entirely blue, blue sort of became a running joke about me during camp – if somebody couldn’t find the tube of blue, everyone would shout to go ask me if I had it; my friends would randomly start singing “I’m blue, da ba dee, da ba di,” just to tease me, and if I said, “Guess what color I’m using?” the whole room would respond, “BLUE.”

So to prove everyone wrong, I painted the painting of the sunset/ocean/hill whatever. Without any blue. At all. It was hard – I shouted about the orange wanting to stab me with a knife for about half an hour… In fairness, I may have had a concussion. But seriously, that painting brought out the crazy artist in me. I went insane.

And then the last piece is some weaving. Obviously.

Okay, before I sign off here, I’ll mention the relevant boy. So, this week at camp was strange for me in that I was outside of my bubble. Almost all of my friends are Catholic/homeschooled/pretty much share the same worldview as I do. This was my first time completely outside of that circle while old enough to actually realize it and experience it. What am I building up to? Basically: during art camp I got asked out for the first time in my entire life.

Sheltered? Maybe.

I had to turn him down, because I don’t date and lots of other complicated reasons (also, I don’t really subscribe to society’s view of dating – I don’t understand how you can like someone enough to want to go out with them without knowing really ANYTHING about them).

Anyway, I’m off to bed. If you have any questions about camp or whatever, or if you want to see some close ups of paintings, say so in the comments. Your wish is my command! 🙂

~Hero

On Learning to Trust (or How VBS was Entirely Too Relevant to My Life This Year)

Here’s a fact about me: I am terrible at trust falls. Maybe it’s because I’m heavy – or at least perceive myself to be – and so don’t fully expect the person catching me to be able to, well… catch me. I always end up buckling my knees at the last second and catching myself. This is probably because every experience I’ve had with trust falls in which I actually trusted and fell, I knocked the other person over and we both went tumbling to the ground. Landon can attest that I have “trust issues” when dancing – when I’m dipped, it’s rather awkward because I won’t just relax and allow the guy to dip me. (Because I’m afraid he’ll drop me, or that I’ll knock him over – both have happened before. Grace is not my strong suit.)

It’s not that I’m afraid of falling, or of embarrassment. I fall over all the time: usually not intentionally, but there are times when I feel the need to demonstrate how to properly collapse. And I’m outgoing to the point at which nothing really embarrasses me. (At youth group our leader will give us motivation for gathering together quickly by saying, “The last one over here has to stand up in the front and sing ‘I’m a Little Teapot’.” I always linger back so I can run up to the front and show off my now-famous I’m a Little Teapot routine.)

So why do I have trouble with trust? Maybe it’s because of my temperament: I’m reading a book called The Four Temperaments, and I’m pretty sure I’m a choleric, which basically means that I’m motivated, strong-willed, stubborn, and outgoing. It also means I have a tendency to think I’m sufficient all by myself, and I don’t need others. I don’t need to trust people to get along in life. I’ve also always fancied myself like a spy… Trust no one, I work alone, etc.

The problem is, now I need to trust… Need to trust more than I ever have. And I can’t.

I mentioned a couple blog posts back that I’ve been having some issues (that I did not elaborate on). I’m not going to go into much detail, but I’ll just say that there was a boy I very very very much liked who recieved the call to the priesthood. I was heartbroken: really, actually heartbroken – not like my thirteen-year-old version of ‘heartbroken’, which seems laughable in retrospect. My whole world felt like it had been flipped on its head, and I alternated between crying and kicking myself for acting like such a Bella Swan.

This all happened about three weeks ago, and I’m still hurting, but I’m healing, too. My problem is the whole trust thing. I thought I had things under control. I had a plan. Things were going well. And then everything flipped and now I don’t know where I am or what to do.

I don’t even know who I am.

I’m not implying that my entire identity and life rested in this boy, because it didn’t. I’ve been troubled by not knowing myself for a really long time. In Marian Group (a sort of religious/youth-group-y/study group I’m in with some friends of mine), we’ve been talking about identity and discovering ourselves – who we are, truly. It’s a hard question answer: 2-4-6-0-1 doesn’t cut it, in this case.

So add to this whole situation the fact that I’m fifteen and hence overemotional and overdramatic, and you’ll see why I’m sort of a wreck. There are other factors at play besides everything I’ve listed that I am not going to go into, but for our purposes, just assume that nothing makes sense and I feel like I’m stumbling around a maze, blindfolded.

I am lost.

I should also mention that this all happened on the Friday night before VBS started. I woke up Monday morning to discover that the entire theme for VBS was ‘Trust God.’ I spent the entirety of VBS teaching kids about trusting God in every situation, the whole while I was finding it hard to trust God myself.

We sang this entirely-too-relevant song a lot.

That song is basically my life right now.

Everywhere I look, the world is screaming at me to trust God. I have a little plaque in my room that I got for my confirmation. Guess what Bible verse it has on it?

Basically the most accurate thing I’ve ever seen ever.

And this morning at Mass, the homily was all about trusting God despite your troubles. It’s ridiculous: is everyone inside my head right now? Like, living in there? (Hello population of the world. What are you doing inside my consciousness?)

So the solution seems simple, right? It’s being broadcast at me from every outlet – it’s not even trying to be subliminal. God has constructed a flashing billboard and planted it in front of my face: TRUST ME, HERO.

But it’s not simple! It’s not simple at all! I’m not one to sit by and be passive – I want to trust God, but I don’t know how! And I feel like I have to do something. I can’t just sit here and hope God brings about whatever’s supposed to happen to me… I mean, I need a plan, an idea of what’s going on so I can move forward in my life, so I know what action to take.

But like I said: I’m blindfolded. I’m lost. I don’t have a map.

I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I’m here for. And I don’t know where to go. People try to offer me advice, and it’s not helpful. I’ve been taking lots of naps because when I’m asleep I can escape it all. Pretend I’m five years old, when life was easy: cheerios and Blue’s Clues. No problems.

I have to learn to trust Him. I have to remember something that Julia told me, something that really struck me: God doesn’t just have a plan for this boy – God has a plan for me. And I have to realize that trusting God doesn’t mean not doing anything and expecting my life and identity to just plop itself into my lap. After all, I’m in a maze and I’m blindfolded – I need someone to lead me out… But being led out requires effort on my part. I have to walk forward through the twists and turns and I have to trust God that I’m going the right way. And that’s really hard for me – to let go, to not have a game plan or a map. But I know He is leading me somewhere, and I just have to trust that it’s somewhere good.

I’m going to figure it out. Somehow. (Someday… Somewhere… What? You thought I could get through an entire blog post without referencing West Side Story?)

In the meantime, I’m going to be praying and journalling a lot to try and get a handle on things. I would really appreciate it if you guys would all pray for me. As much as the Slytherin in me says I can do it alone, I can’t, and I know that.

I’m falling backwards, but my knees are buckling before God can catch me. I’m not letting go, and I need to. No matter how I feel, I’ve got to trust God – I said that so many times at VBS. Now I have to start believing it.

~Hero

I Legitimately Forgot

I was working today, hunched over my computer, eyes glazed over, clicking intermittently… And my brain helpfully offered me this golden nugget of information: “It’s Thursday.”

And I was like, “Thank you, brain. I was aware that it is Thursday.”

“No, Hero, you don’t get it. It’s Thursday. As in, not Wednesday.”

*fpppppppppppp* “Oh.”

So, I’ve decided to sort of be lazy and stuff and give a general update on my life.

  • I AM FAILING NANOWRIMO. Like, seriously. FAILING MISERABLY. I haven’t even hit 25,000 words, but you know what? I got started writing a novel that I really enjoyed, and that’s all that matters.
  • Today is my friend Kristin’s birthday! (Notice, I linked to her tumblr: this is where I pretend that I don’t have the URL to her tumblr memorized because I have a life and stuff hahahahahaha…) Anyway, we met up with, like, a gazillion of our friends from church and we went to Cracker Barrel and Landon and Tanith and Odysseus and our awesome seminarian friend were there and it was a lot of fun. We got to Cracker Barrel at 9:15 and we left at — wait for it — 11:00. We finally yanked ourselves away from the table (to the relief of the waitresses) and then stood outside on the porch with all the rocking chairs for another ten minutes. It was a lot of fun and really awesome to get to have breakfast with my friends (first time I’ve ever paid for myself at a restaurant you guys: I’M SUCH A BIG GIRL). Kristin is beautiful and amazing and I freaking love her to death, so go to her tumblr and spam her ask with messages about how incredible she is because if there is one person on this planet who deserves ‘you are magical and a goddess’ spam, it’s her.
  • Tuesday night I went over to Essie’s house with the usual gang (plus Odysseus and Stella) and had a musical marathon. 😛 We watched West Side Story (which Essie somehow found neither romantic NOR SAD) and then we watched The Music Man — at which point Landon, Odysseus, and Stella (obviously those aren’t their real names, you guys – what terrible parent would name their children like that? I mean, all those names on their own are okay, I guess, but all three? Together? No worries, their real names are very not-crazy) had to go home because it was like, 11:40. *hd* And then Morgann and Essie and I stayed up until 2 watching Phantom of the Opera and the Phineas and Ferb musical… It was a lot of fun. I love my friends. 🙂
  • Working is annoying but being employed has benefits, such as being paid. So that’s that then.
  • I’m on a diet because I’m commiserating with a friend of mine, but my diet kind of stinks because I’m totally lame at dieting and I’m not exercising every day because I’m lazy. Also I ate cake yesterday that sent me wayyyyy over my calorie limit for the day (like, I was at 172% of what I was supposed to be at heh heh heh). But I’m trying. Yeahhh.
  • I really want to take a nap. Or maybe watch Mary Poppins. Or something.

Anyway, that’s all for me right now! I will now go pretend to have a life all holed up in my room watching Mary Poppins on my laptop.

~Hero

I Got Tagged (Also, Julia is a Butthead)

Disregarding the fact that Julia is awesome and has been helping me through some issues I’ve been having recently (which is why I didn’t blog yesterday, FYI), she tagged me in a ridiculous meme and I now hate her forever.

Yayyyyyyyyy.

So to make up for not posting yesterday, here is this MARVEL of a blog post. Enjoy.

The Lucky 7 Meme Award Rules are as such:

1. Go to the 7th or 77th page of your work in progress.

2. Go to the 7th line of the page.

3. Copy the next 7 sentences or paragraphs. Remember, they must be as they are typed.

4. Tag 7 authors.

5. Let them know they’re it!

Okay, so step one. *opens Semper word document*

Step two: *locates 77th page and 7th line*

Tada.

Eila made a face. Clearly Caerwyn had some sort of romantic feelings for Rhys – and Eoin and Rhys had them for her. What she had said to Seamus earlier had been right: apparently everyone was in love with this stupid girl.

She pushed Rhys away. “Shoo, both of you. Eoin, you have guard duty! You’ll be late!”

Eoin looked concernedly at her. “Aidan will cover me. Are you sure you’re…?”

Caerwyn rolled over, burying her face in her pillow. “Let me be, I’m fine. Both of you worry like old mothers with nothing better to do.”

Rhys put a hand on Eoin’s shoulder and led him toward the door. In the darkness, Eoin stumbled over another book and into one of the many bookshelves. There came a series of dull thuds as a number of books fell to the ground.

A muffled groan echoed from Caerwyn’s landing. “Eoin, you git!”

Eoin looked sheepish. “Sorry,” he muttered, gathering up the books and setting them on the bottom step of the staircase. “G’night, Caerwyn.”

Now, as for the next couple steps, I am too lazy/refuse to tag other people. Hurrah.

I’m pretty busy with VBS this week, but maybe on Wednesday I’ll snap a picture of my costume for the week and post it – I’m a 60’s flight attendant. It’s pretty awesome.

Write later, my loves,

Hero

P.S. I won a comment contest on This Page Intentionally Left Blank, which is this super awesome blog that updates way more regularly than I do – so you should check it out. 🙂 As a prize I get to write a guest post, so I will definitely link to that when I do.

P.P.S. Shout out to my friends Tatiana and Julia (even though I hate her right now, haha) – they really are some of the greatest friends a girl could ask for and I love them to complete pieces. Go read their blogs: they are much more intelligent and awesome than I. 🙂