We went to look at a new house yesterday, and I loved it. It’s just to rent, and it’s nothing fancy, but it’s wonderful. There’s a small living room and a small dining room that lead into the most beautiful kitchen ever.
It’s got yellow walls and nice countertops and light streaming through sheer white curtains. It’s the kind of sunny kitchen I’ve imagine about my entire life. Ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted a sunny yellow kitchen with a breakfast nook. It’s got no breakfast nook, but the sunny kitchen part is enough.
There’s a lovely basement with nice tiled hard floors and a laudnry room ooposed to the wet, moldy basement we’ve got now. That’d be our family room.
There are three bedrooms, and one’s huge and supposed to be the master but would be the one my sister and I would share. We planned where our beds would go, and I imagine ebds on the opposite sides of the room, my bookcases along the wall and my elephants line up on their shelves. Books everywhere, the way I see it. The other two are about the same size, rather small, and when my brother’s home from college he’d share one with my other brother and my mom would get the other.
The only problem is my brother, when my other brother’s away from college, has his massive room all to himself where he can listen to music and watch Star Wars and put all of his Star Wars replicas on his shelves. He’s older than me and my sister, so maybe he and my brother should share the big room, but it seems kind of pointless when my oldest brother is only there three months in the summer and maybe one month summing up all of his breaks.
My sister and I want half-purple, half-orange walls in what would be our room. If we move, I can start all over with room decoration, and there’s promise in that. Promise in making my room look like a library.
I’m happy today because I’m doing a lot of multitasking and also a lot of writing. A lot for me isn’t the same ‘a lot’ as everyone else; for me it’s a few paragraphs between stumbling around the Internet or long stretches of brilliant dialogue. I really don’t like the way I’m writing it, but I do like the story, and in the writing process the writing can be fixed but the story really can’t. In reading, for me, it’s the exact opposite; as long as the story’s told in a good way with good writing, the actual plot doesn’t matter all that much. Most of the time. There are obviously exceptions, as there are to every rule.
Anyways, I’m really excited for my collaboration blog that’s starting on Monday. I think it’ll be really fun adn on Monday I’ll post something here with more details about it. Writing a lot has helped my writing evolve, obviously, adn hopefully this blog, which will be LOADS of fun, will do that, too.
Sorry I haven’t been blogging lately. Like I said, tumblr. It takes over liiiiives.
I’m kind of out of my blogging groove now. It’s weird, but I’ll be getting back into it because of a collab blog I’m working on! Yay!
And here’s a quote, so this post isn’t entirely vapid:
Crazy isn’t being broken or swallowing a dark secret. It’s you or me amplified. If you ever told a lie and enjoyed it. If you ever wished you could be a child forever.
No idea who she is, but she’s brilliant.
I’m looking into starting a sort of collaboration blog sort of like the Five Awesome Girls channel on YouTube, if anyone knows what that is. Each of us would have a day in the week where we’d do a blog post, and we’d ask each other question, have theme weeks, stuff like that.
If any of you readers would be interested in participating in that or know anyone who would, let me know in the comments. Abundance of thank yous.
I haven’t been blogging as often as usual on here because I’ve now got a tumblr. If you’ve got a tumblr or want one or whatever check mine out. Thanks.
Thanks for turning me from a thought to a person, your first sugar and spice and everything nice and your third duckling to trail after you.
Thanks for giving me crayons to grip and coloring books to fill and laughter and art.
Thanks for taking my hand and leading me into the library, and thanks for letting me get a library card on which I capitalized the wrong letter.
Thanks for never saying, “We already have books at home,” and going past the library’s limit of seventy-five books out at time.
Thanks for reading to me every night befored bed until I was ten, making me appreciate old books too and the cadence of words, the cadence of a story.
Thanks for backing off and trusting me to do well in school, assuming that my homework’s done and tomorrow’s test will bring another A.
Thanks for teaching me to laugh at things that aren’t funny and to laugh at things that are funny. Thanks for turning me into the kind of person who doesn’t turn everything into something inappropriate at the lunch table.
Thanks for the fact that when you’re yelling about something Dad does when he wants us to stay at his house you say, “I can’t believe I married him. God, though, I’m glad I did him because I have four children.”
Thanks for getting me that Barbie creativity book when I was four or five and where I wrote one of my first stories. I was supposed to write about Barbie in a rain storm, and I gave Barbie a bag that turned into an umbrella. I showed you the story, and you smiled, laughed, praised, and I was a writer.
I went to Half-Price Books today and I didn’t buy anything. There was the temptation to buy a few books I’ve reread and loved and loved and loved, but I’ve been spending money too much lately. Really, my restraint from buying books is in order to buy other books later on because that’s really all I use my money for, and I now regret my frugalness, but:
Half-Price Books is an amazing place. There’s wall for vintage books and I reminisced, looking at the books from the 1930s that my mom read to me growing up. My mom bought one and was generally annoyed that they charged her ten dollars because there were loads of stains, and then I had to explain that it was an original so of course it’s more expensive and she understood this but was still annoyed.
I hadn’t been there in ages and I noticed a new display case full of two and three hundred dollar books, early editions. There was Angel and Demons, a first edition with a really cool cover and Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, American version, second edition going for three hundred dollars. I was kind of puzzled by that because a second American edition isn’t rare. I think my brother probably has one.
I don’t think I’d be willing to pay those three hundred dollars for Chamber of Secrets even though I’m a big Potter fan. I just don’t see how what edition it is makes it more valuable because the things inside are the same(unless there was like a typo or something altered in sequential editions).
Anyways, at Half-Price Books, there’s this perfectly lovely, borderline dirty smell. It’s got a really, really strong must and the must of some books coincide, but it smells so good. The bookshelves are packed neatly and there aren’t lame commercial attempts at the sale of unbook-related things.
I was in exactly the right place.