quick update and back to the Anna Karenina!

This is how people lose their minds.

They delude themselves into thinking that everything’s under control; I’m getting food and exercise and doing all of my reading and some pleasure reading on top of that and seeing my friends. Yup, life is just fine.

Then, BOOM! Your life turns into a rejected Lifetime movie script (“Too dramatic to be real,” the producer says,) and run around like a zombie crying and hugging your time turner/Gryffindor scarf/wand for comfort as you dash from class to class and library to dance to home. You eat nothing but tea and poptarts because getting real food takes too long. Your back and neck ache from lugging around your computer and your school bag everyday and hunching over the computer all night.

I guess I really need this Breaking out of the Muggle Mindset thing.


’tis a gift to be simple

I’ve found that just a bit of order can make mundane things like waking up on Thanksgiving and making tea and watching the parade with children and doughnuts a whole lot more enjoyable. I’m finding it hilarious that I am returning to the things I originally shunned when I became a teenager. When I turned thirteen I think I suddenly thought things were going to change. Now I think I care even less about appearances and what people think. I always felt like I should always be growing more aware of my appearance and of what people think of me, but I don’t. I just put up on old pink, flowered canopy for my bed. It’s fabulous. My room is clean and flowered and colorful and there is tons of tea in our cabinets and if my Dad wasn’t such a Scrooge, I think I would be perfectly content this holiday.

I got tons of new books I don’t know where to begin. Here’s a list of what I am reading or about to read:

  • Candor by Pam Bachorz
  • The Mystery of the Crystal Skulls by Morton Thomas
  • Anna Karenina by Tolstoy
  • The Book of Lost Things by John Connelly
  • The Price of Honor by Jan Goodwin
  • The Boyfriend List by E. Lockhart
  • Things I’ve Been Silent About by Azar Nafisi
  • Men and Women by Margaret Mead
  • God Among the Shakers by Suzanne Skees

Alas, the list is even longer than I thought. That’s not even counting the books on my shelves that I haven’t yet read. I guess I will have to read a lot this holiday season!


It’s officially Christmas time! I have just loaded my ipod with tons of appropriate music. I’m excited! 🙂


You complete me. You saw me when I was invisible. You had me at hello. I’m just a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her. I love you, most ardently. We’ll always have Paris. You jump, I jump Jack. Kiss me.  Kiss me as if it were the last time. The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.

Aaaaas yooooou wiiiiiish.

I don’t have time to blog but I am anyway. Next week is my birthday and I want to eat India food and paint my hands with henna and watch old movies. Pride and Prejudice is a definite must, probably Casablanca as well. AND I also really want to see An Education, a movie with Peter Saarsgard and Carey Mulligan, but it isn’t out anywhere. Hrmmmmph.

I’ve always picked up from subtle insinuation that most people think Woody Allen is obnoxious. I don’t know if this is true, but I think he’s fabulous.

My life is exploding right now in a not so good way. I think I may possibly have it under control but I don’t know. Check back at a future date for a consensus on that.

twisted Sainthood…

The dreams of twisted and mutilated Saints have returned to my nightly adventures. It sounds freaky, philosophical and religious, but it’s really just my brain freaking out about my skeletal alignment. Somehow my spine and pelvis have twisted around again and my legs are different lengths and that makes my hips hurt and puts stones along my back and coaxes my scapula to reattach from the rest of me. I’m sixteen for goodness’ sake! I hate to think of how hunch-backed, achy and creaky I will be in 70 or 80 years…

I have officially filled up every shelf space for books in my room. I have three full bookcases, one bookcase with a shelf removed so I can stuff them all into the stacks, two other wall shelves filled, and a few piles overflowing onto other non-book areas of the room. HOW WILL I BE ABLE TO TAKE THEM ALL TO COLLEGE WITH ME?!

edna st. vincent millay

(I wish I had something to say! I love autumn so much…trying to enjoy it!) I love this poem:

Heart, have no pity on this house of bone:

Shake it with dancing, break it down with joy.

No man holds mortgage on it; it is your own;

To give, to sell at auction, to destroy.

When you are blind to moonlight on the bed,

When you are deaf to gravel on the pane,

Shall quavering caution from this house instead

Cluck forth at summer mischief in the lane?

All that delightful youth forbears to spend

Molestful age inherits, and the ground

Will have us; therefore, while we’re young, my friend —

The Latin’s vulgar, but the advice is sound.

Youth, have no pity; leave no farthing here

For age to invest in compromise and fear.

poetry day.

Thick, hot, spicy Indian soup that reminds me of a different place, far, far away. Somewhere over the rainbow where cameras talk and the hot crusted earth reminds you of the danger of romantics.  Where love seems real and cities still have magic and a favorite band blaring through the open windows of a beat-up old truck can remind you that the world is still beautiful. The things I’ve heard– I still don’t believe them. Because you still have magic, and you’re the only one left.

Siamese located left of pole on wall.  Take your anorexics and broken marriages far away from me. That is perfection.

[Insert obligatory change of seasons post here.]

I love seasons changing. Suddenly your wardrobe shifts and your days feel different and you have intense desires to eat nothing but soup. You suddenly want to drink way more tea and cocoa than should be allowed and write long thoughtful novels and shut yourself in your room with an imaginary fireplace.

I’m home alone right now, and the chilly late September air is blowing in through the window, turning me from a sock-hater to a sock-lover. I’m curled up under a sleeping bag, simultaneously working on a paper, a creative writing thing, and watching Gilmore Girls. (Do I even need to write that down anymore? I’m always watching Gilmore Girls. It’s pathetic, but it’s better than drugs, I guess.) The air is brisk enough to seep through my sweater but not potent enough to get to my toes under the layers of socks and sleeping bags. I can’t wait. CAN’T WAIT. Next week begins my absolute favorite month of the year. It always passes by too quickly, like a car driving by so fast you can’t catch what was written on it’s bright pink bumper sticker.

READ something by Francesca Lia Block, if you haven’t. I think she’s brilliant.

Number of pages of Russian literature read this year: 370

Episode of Gilmore Girls (on my re-watch of the whole series): 3. 12

love, Princess B.