tea and misery?

{photo by anna morosini}

The Past has started to shine with such a bright haze it is painful to look upon. These Autumn and Almost-Winter months have brought a haunting nostalgia upon me. More than anything, I want to go to my grandparent's house. But it was sold a year and a half ago, and while I am happy that its occupants are still with us and close by, I still mourn the house that was a second home. (It's because we're nearing the holiday season, I think. Holidays, autumn leaves, winter coats, certain books - all these things seem to make me want to go to my grandparent's. And perhaps to be a child again. I'm going to stop before I start crying.)

Since I've last updated I got my hair cut (finally) to about shoulder-length; I finished the 18th and last (sigh) series of Byker Grove; and I (somehow) got work twice a week cleaning someone's house. Huzzah for earning money for something I enjoy doing, which also involves minimum interaction with people!

I've been well and content, for the most part. Now that I am not obsessively trying to finish Byker Grove, I will (hopefully) be devoting more time to writing. I've not felt like writing the past couple months, but I feel more open to it these days. November I shall hopefully be working on my 1960s story and another story which I've never mentioned before.

Ugh, I am freezing cold today. I'm already wondering how I'll make it through the winter. All I want to do is hide under the covers and eat, which is bad. Really bad. I'm seeing a long winter full of tea and misery ahead. :P


Would anyone care to come hibernate with me?

-EDIT-

I don't know if anyone else cares, but Jenica does and that's all that matters. So here are two pictures of my hair, as it looks today. It's grown a bit since I got it cut, and it's not this curly every day.

The first picture is just my hair hanging loose, but in the second picture I pulled back the less-curly front part to display the glorious curls that live under them. :P Okay, so it really doesn't look that much different. I don't think my hair photographs well. (Also, the bathroom lights really bring out my highlights in the first one...)

the wanderer

tranquil roaming, wind knocking against my soul.
the spaces 'neath my eyes look kissed by the lavender wings of the moths that would fly up against the stars on summer nights.
summer nights--oh, strange they should come up again, just when the scar wrapped around me became another irrelevant story. twas you! your doing. you had me in your jaws; caused me cringes in the ringing silence between clock strikes.

you made a wanderer out of me.

domesticity is no way to live when one's hands are too raw to even pick up the truth. you were too, too anchored to your reality. what call could i answer but that of transiency?
now a wanderlust beats where cowardice once lay. power in every step, though my bones have magnified and delirious perseverance is my main emotion.

it is autumn & i know i will fall with the rest.

as the leaves flame & break away, i watch: drifting to my knees, admiration on the tip of my tongue. beautiful, i sigh. beautiful.
i reach a hand up to catch their whispery caresses. things are so beautiful when they are dying, i murmur.
the earth reaches to hold me; a rustle under my head, a last rustle of my heart.
beautiful! i am beautiful!





{I don't know what this is, really. It was written one recent midnight, and I was so happy to actually have a story to tell. I think while writing, I unconsciously had in mind conversations I'd had with my friend Jessica about autumn and transiency and such.
The picture is by me, and was taken on our back porch on a lovely, lonely rainy autumn afternoon. Those are my fat feet, yes. :P}

October

I miss his voice speaking in the distance as I wandered through the shelves of worlds waiting to be discovered. (As was I.)


I played hide and seek with my heart in the aisles. I hid from confronting what I really wanted: him.

As October approaches again, my thoughts drift like dead leaves into a pile at one place: his feet.

(I wish...
Why didn't I...
It's better...
this way
right?)

Yes.
It's just October sweeping through me with an incisive wind of near-sadness & almost-regret; bringing to the surface all I let drop.
Soon I will be able to let these things fall into the opaque waters again; but first I must remember, I must embrace each recollection: the barbed and the sweet. (Each one has been gilded with a sheen of significance they do not deserve.)
I let the words of old diaries pour over my cheeks, I try on those secret smiles again. (They still fit.) But more often than not they wrinkle into winces and I remove them with a sigh.


These things: I want to remember them because Common Sense is standing nearby and soon she will shake her head, tell me to put them--to put him--out of my mind again.
Bravely, I'll uncurl my fingers, let these cherished things sink and nestle in the arms of the depths. (All the while knowing perfectly well I will fish them out again. Perhaps too soon...)

...Definitely too soon. Already I've retrieved one or two: just my favourites! Please allow me those! I dry them off and place them in a box. A mahogany box that keeps secrets as well as my own heart; they're safe here, yet accessible. I am content.

(I just ignore the arrows Common Sense aims at my head. Their blows have grown as soft as sighs over the years, anyway. For she knows I don't care, and any effort will be wasted. She keeps on trying, though, and I admire that. Still, I will not forget for her; I cannot just yet.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Been feeling nostalgic lately, for it was October last year that signaled the beginning of a strange and horrible year that would turn me into a girl I didn't recognize. (A girl that still sneers at me when I look closely at my reflection.)
Of course, this piece focuses on one of the highlights of the year, though one that caused as much stress as joy (a stranger who happened to be perfect). Here's hoping this next year heals instead of harms...

I am happy, though, for it finally feels and smells like autumn! My mother asked me the other week what autumn smells like. I said the first thing that came to mind: Dead leaves and blooming hopes.
Though it was random at the time, I now realize: my hopes are blooming. All sorts of wonderful things feel possible in the autumn. Which is a sentiment I expressed during spring, I believe. It's true for both seasons, though! No wonder they're my favourites.



{1st image found here, 2nd image is my favourite painting, 'Eleven AM' by Edward Hopper.}

Thoughts of Spring!

I am going through a barren spell, at the moment. I didn't even notice till the other day I realized I have been writing next to nothing. It's alright, though. I know the words will come back. With a vengeance, undoubtedly, in copious, overwhelming amounts. I have been writing in my journal, though. I thought I'd post this journal entry I wrote last week. It was written on a day that felt like spring. My mother had opened all the windows and I sat on the floor in front of mine and wrote this entry. (It was penned over a period of 20 minutes or so with quite a few pauses in between to revel in the inspiring atmosphere. So, it is a little choppy. Especially since I copied it verbatim from my journal... with a few punctuation and spelling corrections, of course. :P)

{My window! Taken from my seated position on the floor.}

Feb. 28, 2011

I love Spring. I can see why people (stereotypically?) fall in love during springtime. There is something in the air that is most inspiring. An intoxicating scent that makes one feel like doing foolish or impossible things.
Just after I wrote that I impetuously decided to put on a skirt I have worn only once before when I was home alone. It is what I call a "regrettable shade of pink". It is also a rather shocking shade. But there is Spring in the air and I don't care.
I am sitting in front of my window which is open. I was reading "I Capture the Castle" but was captured myself by the bewitching breeze.
It is only 2:09 but it feels hours later. I don't know what the sun is doing but its presence is somewhat lacking.
Bright, sunny days are shallow things, anyway.
The breeze, that temptress, just caressed my cheek & whispered thoughts of rain in my ears.
I have just leaned up against the windowsill to get closer to the intoxicating air. I can hear sounds like raindrops hitting the pavement but I do not see any... Perhaps it is the leftover autumn leaves playing with the breeze.
I wish I could stick my hand out the window but I cannot. Darn window screens!
Ah! It is raining! I couldn't tell by looking at the street or our driveway but I can tell from our neighbour's driveway.

The rain song & scent have become very noticeable now. Though I still cannot see the rain. I can see the effects of it, though. The workmen across the street have stopped working & I just saw someone with an umbrella.
I still want to feel it, though.

My mind is made up:
I'm going outside!
Love, ineffable me

{A corner of my journal and my "regrettable pink" skirt.}

In case you were wondering, I did indeed go outside! I stood on the back porch for a minute or two and got speckled by the raindrops.
Ah, I am remembering how much I love spring. Especially since it feels like winter again here. :(
I cannot decide which I love more, spring or autumn. I seem to love each one most while it is happening. How quixotic of me! Or perhaps I am just forgetful. ;)


What is your favourite season?

Winter... or summer?

My favourite season is upon us!!!

As much as I love the carefree flavor of summer, I prefer autumn. And yes, even winter is preferable to summer. {Spring is marvelous too but it only lasts for about three days here!}
I don't know why, I love the crisp autumn months and the frosty days of winter. I feel that there are so many delicious opportunities to feel cosy when it is chilly out. Cold days mean hot cocoa & soup, dancing fires, and snuggling into blankets with a favourite book.
Though, my cynical self is saying it also means school, winter doldrums and frozen fingers & toes. {My cynical self likes to put a damper on things! I try to ignore her.}
In my opinion, summer is too hot. I have always thought it is much easier to make yourself warm when you are cold then to make yourself cold when you are too warm.
I was delighted to find that my favourite author, Bess Streeter Aldrich, believed this to be true as well. In a book of her short stories called Journey into Christmas, she shares a few of her memories in the last chapter, aptly entitled 'I Remember'. This is one of them:

'...And in a higher grade there was the first experience in debating. The procedure was explained, including the new words "affirmative" and "negative". The question to be debated was: Resolved, that winter is better than summer. I was affirmative. And what's more the leader of the affirmative. Came the great day and I went to the front of the room. "Ladies and gentlemen," I began, at which there was a faint titter proving that my appellation had been chosen unwisely. But I was firm with them. "Ladies and gentleman," I repeated. "You can always get yourself warm on a cold winter day, but you can't never get yourself cool on a hot summer day." Maybe my earnest glibness caused the outburst, or maybe it was their pent-up emotion, but everyone broke into laughter. And the teacher said: "Sit down. This wasn't meant to be funny. If you can't think of good reasons, don't give any." I sat down. Funny? I had no more intention of being funny than Douglas did when he debated with Lincoln. Through all the years - at least until air conditioning became known - I have never changed my mind that you could always get yourself warm on a cold winter day but could never get yourself cool on a hot summer day.'


It's always so nice to know the authors we love share similar thoughts and ideas with us. {Looking back, I realize, I may have mentioned Bess Streeter Aldrich an inordinate amount of times... What can I say, she is my favourite author!}



{Painting: "Stapleton Park near Pontefract" by John Atkinson Grimshaw}