Tuesday, December 2, 2014

30. Drawing

Hi!
I know I've been inactive lately, so my apologies for that.... But I've started an Instagram account, where I post new drawings every day. Click below to follow me if you're interested. Thanks in advance! =)

http://instagram.com/sarahdawsonshoes

Saturday, June 28, 2014

29. Hiking

We've had a warm spell recently, so with cloudless skies above us, my dad and I decided to go on a hike. The mountain we chose (if you can even call it that) is less than an hour from our house, and the hike itself is only eight miles round-trip -- the perfect amount for gorgeous views at the top and a sense of accomplishment once you've made it down, but not so strenuous that you're exhausted for the rest of the day.
At the start of a hike, I always find that my mind is jumbled with school assignments and YouTube videos and job obligations. But after about twenty minutes of walking, my head starts to clear, and I become more aware of what's around me. If you take the hike a step at a time, you can't help but be present in the moment. You can do nothing more than focus on what's right in front of you. By the time I get to the top, my legs are burning, but my mind is free of any distraction.
Being on top of a mountain really helps to put things in perspective. Humans are nothing more than dots in the city below, and roads and rivers spread their fingers out over the landscape, snaking through the valleys. All the petty problems seem to float away, and barely even matter anymore.
So little of these hikes are about whether I get to the top; instead, they are about escaping from everyday life, and finally being free.

Sunday, June 22, 2014

28. Writing

This year was the first one in a long time that I got to do creative writing as part of my English class. It's something that I've always enjoyed immensely, but in the past few years I've been too busy to find time to write consistently, so I was overjoyed when we did several creative assignments this year.
Instead of the normal post today, I figured I'd share my latest assignment -- I had way too much fun writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

The assignment was a pastiche, which is basically a pretentious way of saying that you must imitate either the style or the story line of a specific author's work. Of course, I chose Virginia Woolf; I think that, stylistically, our writing styles are fairly similar, and I loved reading her stories, so it was an obvious choice. But coming up with a topic to explore was much more challenging. I finally settled on how much time we spend doing various things over the course of our lives; sleeping, eating food, exercising, et cetera. But the most ridiculous one was that, over a 79 year lifespan, the average person spends six months waiting at stoplights. Six months! So, in homage to Woolf, I decided to write my paper on this modern conundrum. Enjoy!

It is rather unsettling for one to consider the passage of time. It feels as though our stories are yet unwritten and there is much that life still has to offer us, and yet we have already completed a large fraction of our given time on this planet. Even if we live to see one hundred, our lives are already twenty percent finished. And, while musing upon that, one cannot help but consider the amount of time spent engaged in various activities. It seems we waste an undue amount of time consuming food, sleeping, sitting in classrooms, watching television….  But in this modern society, the crime most plainly incurred against Chronos himself is the torture we all must endure while waiting at a stoplight.

The world is out there for the taking, visible, plainly in reach, but something is suddenly preventing you from seeking it out; cornered, trapped, shoved back as though by an invisible hand. The sudden jolt courses through your spine as you are unkindly jerked to a stop. It is a feeling of wasteful meaninglessness quite unlike any other; to be trapped within the metallic confines of the modern vehicle, sidewalks and storefronts visible, but not quite within reach. It is bad enough when you are moving, making progress to some petty destination likely as devoid of meaning as your journey was, but nothing tests one’s patience like being captured by the changing color of a light. How many minutes, hours, days, months, years, are wasted? In a society so advanced that we have put a man into space and become masters of medicine, why is it that we do not have a system of transport that does not involve endless waiting?

Eyes green with envy, glaring at those next to you who are lucky enough to be turning right; what gives them the power to forgo this photon’s powerful clutches? Are they so important that they must arrive at their destination, whilst you remain trapped?

And where are they going, anyway? Maybe to work their tedious 9-to-5 accounting job, wherein they waste the majority of their time stalking people on Facebook. Or perhaps they work at a fast-food restaurant, flipping burgers and burning themselves on french-fry grease to pay their way through college. A barista at Starbucks? A scientist at the research center? Maybe they are part of a covert operation for the CIA, working under the guise of a shop-clerk, secretly spying on people while they peruse clothes at Value Village. They’re wearing sunglasses, so, seems pretty likely….

 You are wrenched out of your reverie by the rude blaring of horns – the traffic creeps forward, and you are finally moving again. Another minute, second, hour wasted; never to return again.

 

 

Saturday, June 21, 2014

27. Goals

I haven't even been out of school for a week, and it's already going by too fast. But, in reality I've got the whole summer left to accomplish whatever I want to. It's pretty liberating, really -- two months of unadulterated freedom, with no homework and very few rules and altogether way too much free time. So, if I want to have a hope of actually accomplishing something this summer, I'm gonna have to start setting goals.

Each summer as part of the summer skating program, we are asked to set goals concerning what we want to accomplish over the next few months. They can be pretty much anything, from landing a jump, to learning a new spin, to improving body awareness and musicality. They could even be something as simple as, "pay attention better in class". We meet once every few weeks to discuss how much progress we've made so far, et cetera, et cetera, and it's all very encouraging, and helpful, and perfectly boring.

But the first few weeks of summer are less organized. There's no pompous coach telling you exactly what type of goals you need to set, or asking you in that condescending voice to read them aloud to the group. No, in the first fortnight of summer, the whole world is open, and you can accomplish whatever you put your mind to.

It's just up to you to do it....

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

26. Drawing

I used to draw all of the time when I was younger -- on the back of used printer paper, in the margin of my tests, over cardboard shoeboxes.  My homework assignments were covered with disembodied eyes, hands, flowers, abstract swirls, anything I could think of. My pen would wander freely and on it's own accord. Sure, my random sketches were rarely of any sort of quality, but they were nonetheless art, in it's rawest form.
As I've gotten older, however, art (and the reason for drawing) seems to have changed. It has become rigid, formalized, and structured. It's no longer acceptable to doodle on the corner of my math assignment; now, if I draw, it seems as though it has to be on a certain type of paper, with the perfect lighting arrangement, specific "drawing pens", and an engaging subject matter. Gone is the spontaneity of scribbling whatever comes to mind, and with that, gone is some of the artistic freedom that you once had. In this new, more rigid environment, I was scared to explore different styles of drawing, fearful that I would mess something up.
But, looking at this fear, and seeing it written out on paper, makes it seem absolutely ridiculous. Anyway, doesn't the whole idea that you can mess up on something of a creative nature completely fly in the face of a basic tenet of art? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so to say that something is "wrong" or not good enough seems subjective. Even if you're not satisfied with how something looks initially, it's important to remember that art is a process, and that you will improve over time. So don't worry if things don't turn out how you want them to along the way -- go out there, doodle something stupid, make mistakes. But, no matter what you do, keep drawing.

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

25. Flavored Water

As summer approaches, the herb garden is overflowing with delicious flora, and the kitchen counter is overburdened with fresh berries and melons and peaches. I decided, rather on a whim, to cut up some strawberries fresh from the garden and put them in a glass of water. The results were delicious; the water was infused with the subtle acid-sweet sensation of the berries. Over the proceeding days, I tried a few other combinations, all to overwhelming success. A few were rather unusual (rosemary and raspberry, cucumber and blueberry), while some were more familiar (mint and strawberry). If you have never tried making flavored water before, I would definitely recommend it -- the results are almost guaranteed to be delicious.

Monday, June 9, 2014

24. Cookies

I swear, there is nothing better in this world than coming home to the scent of freshly-baked cookies. It is impossible not to pull the rounds of chocolate-morsel-studded goodness out of the oven and shove the still-soft circles of deliciousness into your mouth.

Second degree burns may occur...

But it'll be totally worth it.

Sunday, June 8, 2014

23. Inspiration

I had the chance to watch one of my friends dance in an end-of-year recital this afternoon. It was incredible to see people who I usually see at school being in their element on the stage. Of course, there were the obligatory groups of pig-tailed girls (and the token male) whose performance value was based solely off of their adorableness. However, among the older members of the company, the dances were thoroughly entertaining, varied, and enjoyable. The musicality, strength, and artistry that the performers exuded was inspiring; I came home wanting to dance.

Saturday, June 7, 2014

22. Sunscreen

Am I the only one who loves the smell of sunscreen?

Anyone? Anyone?

 Bueller?

I think that sometimes smells create more poignant memories than your other senses. I can smell something and associate it with an event that happened 12, maybe 14 years ago. I remember the most random things; the sweaty stench of the gym where I did gymnastics when I was six, and the chemical smell of the cleaner used at the school I went to when I was ten. Now whenever catch a scent, it brings back memories, good and bad.

For me, the memories associated with sunscreen are almost exclusively positive. The pungent, coconutty aroma reminds me of sweltering road trips and sandy beaches; of building forts in the woods that surrounded our house; of our hands stained crimson from picking pound upon pound of dusty raspberries to make into jam; of the endless, pleasantly uneventful days.

In short, sunscreen reminds me of everything that makes summer so great.


Thursday, June 5, 2014

21. Freshly cut grass

Or, more specifically, the smell of freshly cut grass.

Because of some exams going on at my school this morning, our classes started over two hours late. By the time I drove to school, the sun was shining, the sky was cloudless, and it was an idyllic start to the perfect day. As I glided up to school, the smell of freshly cut grass wafted in through my window.

It's mornings like those when everything in this world is perfect, when all the puzzle pieces finally come together and make sense.

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

20. Friends

I've been thinking a lot recently about how lucky I've been to have all of the great friends that I do at my current school. They are some of the most loving, supportive, funny, and fun-loving people I have ever met. It hasn't always been that way; when I first moved to my current school, I was paralyzed by an intense workload and the massive number of students, and thus I struggled to make friends. But within the past year, I have finally found my niche, and bet dozens of wonderful people because of it. By taking notice of their values, and adapting some of those values as my own, I have become a more open-minded, conscientious person. They have taught me how to think through the repercussions of my own actions and words, and how to stand up for what you believe in. They have taught me how to have fun and make the most out of life. As cheesy as it sounds, my friends have made my school experience better than I could have ever imagined.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

19. Chocolate

It was a rather overcast and gloomy day, in spite of the temperature hovering around the low 70's. I planned to write about sunscreen and it's various summertime associations, but it seemed a little hypocritical considering the weather....

so, chocolate!
'nuf said.

Sunday, June 1, 2014

18. Cookies

As school is slowly grinding to a halt, classes are easing up and I finally have time to do those things that I enjoy so much. One of the things that I missed dearly is the simple joy of baking cookies. So last Tuesday (on a school night, no less) I resolved to bake a batch of shortbread. I proceeded to spend the next several hours calmly measuring, sifting, mixing, rolling; after a short stint in the oven, the resulting creations were a pale cream color, tinted just around the edges with caramel brown. The rich, buttery scent eminating from the oven wafted soothingly throughout the entire house. In spite of
the heat of the oven scalding my fingertips, it was impossible not to pull a jagged piece of cookie straight off the sheet.

Delicious.

Saturday, May 31, 2014

17. Sunshine

Sorry I have been MIA for the past little while -- I had several weeks of grueling exams, and was completely drained afterwards. But I'm back, and will be posting more regularly again, now. School is almost done for the year, and I'm looking forward to the pleasantly long, uneventful days of summer.
In the month and a half that I have been gone, the weather has shifted schizophrenically between a gloomy overcast and a cloudless sunshine. It's impossible to dress for weather like that; you either wear shorts and freeze in the still-frigid mornings, or wear pants and boil in the pounding afternoon heat. But the sun seems to finally be here to stay. And there's nothing like nine months of dreary cloudiness to make you want to make the most of those three months of summer.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

16. Rain

Over the past week or so, the weather has been beautiful, in a way that is not exactly typical for Washington; there has been lots of sunny skies and beautiful sunsets. But it was all too good to last, and the sky has reverted to the dark, dreary grey so typical of our state. It started last night with a blustering wind, accompanied by a light drizzle. But by the time the morning broke the drizzle had morphed in to a steady stream, coursing rivulets of water down my windshield and pooling in miniature oceans on the uneven parts of the sidewalk.
Just like any situation in life, you can look at the rain in a couple of ways. You can see it as a nuisance, with the chilling sky-tears ruining the sunshine, hiding any hope of summer for at least another week. Or, you can see the beauty in it all -- the  infinite, moody purples and greys and blues of the stormy sky, and the intricate patterns of water droplets as they splash onto the ground. You can notice the streetlamp-light being refracted and distorted by millions of atoms of water. You can admire the rays of sunlight breaking through the oppressive clouds, lightening the sky around them. Even if you don't enjoy the bone-chilling torrent itself (and I mean really, who can blame you?), you can still appreciate the rejuvenation and rebirth that the rain will bring; April showers bring May flowers, as the old adage goes.
In life, there has been, and always will be, challenges. And you can chose to complain and lament, recounting stories of the "good old days" when the sun shone brightly and the world was happy. Or, you can take a step back and find joy within sadness, beauty within pain. Even if, at the moment, it seems that all is lost, and that there is no benefit to all the endless struggles, you will come out on the other side a stronger, more compassionate person because of it.
So find the beauty in the dismal days; treasure the sunshine, but learn to enjoy the rain, too.

Monday, April 14, 2014

15. Music

There is not  much unique about my love of music -- it seems to be pretty much universal. But there's something about the notes that can connect with me in a way that almost nothing else can. It's not that I love a certain type, or will only listen to one genre; my musical tastes are broad and indiscriminate. I will listen to anything, from one-hit-wonder pop music to musicals to rap to punk rock. I love eighties songs (see my previous post on Kyrie Eleison), and I've got a soft spot for nineties music, because that's what I grew up listening to. But I will listen to pretty much everything.

Even country.

There are times when I'm most excited to go to the rink because it gives me an opportunity to listen to my music. And better yet, it gives me an opportunity to indoctrinate all of the little minions with my brilliant, highly refined playlists. I mean, really, who wouldn't pass up the chance to expose the wonders of Nickelback to the impressionable young minds of nine year olds?

I'm kidding...

Mostly.

But in all honesty, there is something magical about music. It allows you to be transported to any place, any time. I associate songs with events or times in my life; when I was in 7th grade, for example, I was obsessed with "Leave Out All the Rest". I still love that song, but now whenever I hear it, it brings back memories of new schools and puberty-induced awkwardness.

This post obviously doesn't even begin to describe music; I could rant for hours about it, although I'm sure y'all have better things to do with your Monday nights. I have so much more I want to write! But I don't want to bore you to death, so this is all for now.

Do you have any memories or events that you associate with a certain song?

Sunday, April 13, 2014

14. Summer

We've just had the first week of good weather of the year. Well, good weather is all relative; it was still a pretty frigid week, averaging around 60 Fahrenheit. But it's enough to incite a little restlessness in even the most dedicated students. And this weekend, the temperatures have risen to almost 70 degrees. So I figured that, in homage to the coming summer, I would post something a little different.

Below is an essay that I wrote for English class. It is based (albeit loosely) on Virginia Woolf's Talland House, wherein she recounts memories of summers spent at a vacation house on the English coast.

The objective of the prompt was to employ the descriptive language and lengthy sentences used so often by Woolf. I apologize if the essay seems a little bit stilted or choppy -- I never got around to editing it -- but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.


There’s a little town a few hours east of here that lies just on the Canadian side of the border. It’s not much in the way of a town, really; just a random smattering of imposing lakeside hotels jumbled with ramshackle houses and convenience stores. Right next to the main hotel was the Starlight Marina (much less romantic than it sounds) with the typical Ski-Doo’s and speed boats and kayaks. Osoyoos is pretty much like every other small lakeside town.  But especially when I was younger, it seemed an almost mystical place. The thing that struck me most when I returned to a few years ago was that, even when it seemed that everything and everyone had changed, this island of normalcy remained unchanged. Five years after I visited it initially, there was the same hotel that we always went to, same delicious restaurant, even the same ice cream stand. It always seemed almost anticlimactic once we got there, but the drives to Osoyoos were practically unbearable. My sister, older cousin, and I would always go there after having spent two weeks visiting with our grandparents’ farm in the interior of British Columbia. Our parents would come for the last few days on the farm, which was a rather tense experience. Even back then, there was always a barely perceptible feeling of animosity, a buzz of cold electricity that injected itself into every sentence and movement. It wasn’t that there was one event that triggered this anxiety, so much as a series of small events that made those few days a little choppy. We would pile into the car under the stifling Okanogan sun, finally free from all the family drama. The car ride seemed endless (six hours can feel like an eternity, especially when you’re nine years old). But we amused ourselves for the arduous journey, knowing that once we made it through, Osoyoos would be waiting for us, patiently as always.

As soon as we made it to the hotel, we would leap out of the car, impatient to get to the beach as soon as possible. Taking our bags out of the car and into the lobby seemed a Sisyphean task with the wonderful sandy beach barely a hundred meters away. We waited impatiently, shuffling from one foot to the other, unable to stand still when our goal was within reachable distance.

And finally, freedom. The second our parents gave the most miniscule nod, we took it as the go-ahead and raced onto the beach- Through the dimly-lit lobby, down the slippery tiled stairs, along the hallway wafting with chlorine from the pool, and onto the gray paved balcony. We could finally see the beach in its full glory- everything from the chipped bright orange paint on the metal hand rails to the dusty sand that went on forever on either side of us. We leaped down the short set of stairs and onto the warm sand. You could feel the sun-soaked grains covering your feet, each individual granule seeming to soak the stress away. We would tentatively dip our feet in the water, slowly wading up to our ankles, then our calves. Maybe our knees if we were feeling brave. None of us really liked getting into the water, and we would dare the bravest to dunk their head under the bracing water first. Being the youngest by two years, I was almost never first. I would stand alone at the shallowest bit of water, the ground coated with that same fine sand that now glopped in between your toes like cafeteria pudding. I would get up the nerve to go a little deeper in tortuously slow increments, wincing as the cold water lapped at my ankles. My sister always believed that the best way to get in was to dive all at once, and she tried to convert me by splashing me with pails full of sandy water and slimy strings of kelp. But once everyone was finally in the water, we would stay as long as possible.  We would splash around until our bodies were numb with cold, our skin pocked with goose-bumps. We stayed out until the sun got hazy on the horizon, stretching out time until our parents finally called us in for dinner.
 
 

Thursday, April 10, 2014

13. Flowers

Where did they come from?!

I just noticed the flowers as I glanced out my window. I don't know how I missed them before: now that I'm looking out for them, there's probably at least fifty, in their own little clusters of color. A few deep magenta tulips, and buttercups in muted cream or vibrant yellow hues. Without my noticing, they must have poked their little heads out of the soil, and grown into majestic flowers, towering over the musty dirt.

This is one of the reasons I love spring: you don't notice the flowers until you stop one day, and realize they were there all along.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

12. Stars

I have always been intrigued by science. I love piecing together observations and facts to figure out how the world works. That isn't to say that I'm particularly good at science -- it's one of my weaker subjects -- but that doesn't stop me from loving it.

After that brief respite of sunshine, the sky is back to its typical, angry grey. Looking at the ominous clouds looming above makes me yearn even more for the clear nights of summer, when the sky is wiped clean of cloudy blemishes, and only a blue-black canvas, pricked with starlight, remains.

Over the summer, my family took a trip to Arizona, and I got the opportunity to go on a rafting trip down the Grand Canyon. We spent seven days at the mercy of the water, being tossed through rapids turned turbulent and rust-colored by the recent storms. On the calmer sections of river, a gauzy film of fog hung like a phantom above the river. We traveled slowly through the canyon, stopping to eat or take a side-hike along the way. The only sign of civilization was the occasional motor raft passing by. We would stop our journey by around 4:00, and then explore and make dinner before the fading light of summer's end made any activity all but impossible.

But when the darkness fell was when you finally took notice of the sky. Without any light pollution from surrounding cities, night after night, the canyon is enveloped in velvety darkness. Stars normally invisible stood clearly against the sky. On clear nights, we would line up a row of sleeping bags and fall asleep gazing at the stars. It's there that I learned about a whole host of new constellations, with each star playing a part in the story of the night sky.

There is nothing more humbling than realizing that, in the context of the universe, our world is little more than a speck of dust, making up less than a dot of light in the sky. Because beyond those stars, there are more stars, and beyond are more stars, and beyond and beyond, into forever.

On the one hand, it is terrifying to be so small and insignificant in the scheme of the universe. But on the other hand, it is incredibly gratifying to be a small part in it all, even if nothing more than a blip on the radar of time and space.

Looking at the stars, one cannot help but feel incredibly lucky.

Sunday, April 6, 2014

11. Dance

Noticing a theme here? Figure skating, choreography, and now dance.
In case you haven't noticed yet, I love creative movement. It started (rather embarrassingly) with watching an episode of Dance Moms on YouTube. I was instantly drawn to how effortlessly the dancers were able to convey a story through the simplest of movements. I started watching more and more dance videos, in many of the different styles. Lyrical and ballet pieces are my favorite, being (in my opinion) the most expressive.  And I can at least hope to be able to mimic the dancers some day....

Not counting ballet classes when I was six, and a few lyrical classes for skating, I have never taken dance in my life. I've never learned the turns or jumps that most dancers would consider basic. But I have discovered something: the turning movement from figure skating spins translates incredibly well to turning off the ice. I can't spot to save my life, because it's something you would never do in a skating spin. But the basic mechanics of it is the same, and you get that same exhilarating rush of the wind in your face.

I just got my first pair of ballet shoes, and I think I might be in love. On a good day, I can do a triple pirouette, and my record for fouettés is eight. I'm sure that my technique is horrible, but, I honestly don't care. When I do a turn, it's not to make it perfect; it's to enjoy it. Just moving with the music changes everything; it feels like your body is creating the music, creating this unified force of the senses.

Nothing makes me feel more alive than dancing.

Friday, April 4, 2014

10. Choreography

So typically, when I'm in a lesson with my coach, we work on jumps, or spins, or (my least favorite), my program. But in the past few weeks, we've been doing something a little different: choreography. In this case, it's not even necessarily for a program that we'll add to later, or even set to music, but rather a series of cool-looking movements that happen to flow well together. Most of the time it's just improvisational, moving to whatever comes to mind. It's not as polished-looking as a program that you practice daily, but there's something so raw and true about expressing what you feel through your body. There's no hiding behind the veil of robotic, practiced steps; whatever movement you make has to come directly from you. On the one hand, it makes you incredibly vulnerable, like having your heart cut open and the secrets pouring out for all the world to see. But on the other hand, it's also incredibly liberating, because who are we to be judged for the steps that we take? There is no right way, and there is no wrong way. There is only movement.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

9. Chocolate

Need I say more?

8. Sunny Days

Sometimes, sunny days are hard to come by here in Washington state. And sunny becomes a very relative term when the thermometer is barely creeping past 60° and the sky is still half clouds. But there is something so comforting about sunny weather. After months of dreary, storm-darkened skies, a solitary day of sunshine reminds you that there is more good weather to follow.

Comment down below what your favorite activity is to do in the sunshine!

7. Bumper Stickers

Well, this is sad.... I don't even have ten blog posts yet, and I'm already low on ideas. I guess that's where the real point of this blog is, though; to notice the little things that make life worth living. If you didn't notice, I took quite the hiatus (*cough* three years *cough*). Pardon me. But, after that regretful lapse in judgment, I am back at it again: hopefully for good this time. If you haven't noticed, I have been posting something every day, but they have been little more than brief paragraphs. Honestly, if I stumbled upon this blog, I probably wouldn't take the time to read it. I figure that it's better to just write a little every single day, instead of writing essay-length blog posts every five months. And once I get into the habit of it, these posts will be longer and maybe (if you're lucky), edited! =P

But I digress.

So, over the years, I have garnered quite the affection for random and/or witty bumper stickers. There have been a few to catch my eye over the years; notably, this includes an old VW bus with the phrase, "you might pass me, but you won't outlast me", and another car proclaiming, "I believe in life before death". Being the mercurial teenager that I am and being still unsure of my beliefs, the latter was very thought provoking for me.

So I was joyful when, today, I came across a bumper sticker with the inscription, "The world needs more Canada". Now, ignoring the obvious issues involved with the world becoming enveloped in multitudinous Canada's, I thought this bumper sticker was an interesting one. Is the owner of aforementioned bumper sticker making reference to the political systems of Canada? Perhaps their famous fur products? Or maybe it's the frigid climate? But, come on, guys, I'm all for the snow and all (and moose are pretty fantastic), but I think that having more Canada would just be really freakin' cold....

Have you seen any intriguing bumper stickers lately?

6. (Re)reading

There's something about books that allow you to be transported. Not just to the other world contained within its covers, but also to the time and mentality you were at when first reading the book.
I am currently re-reading The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kid. It is set in a small town in North Carolina during the 1960's. The text explores many themes about growing up that, when I first read it, I could relate to perfectly; not fitting in, and wanting so desperately to be like everyone else. But now that I'm older I see it from a new perspective as well. I am more apt to notice the little inklings of fear woven throughout the novel: talk of atomic bomb drills and Khrushchev, as well as the race tensions that were so characteristic of the Civil Rights Era.
I love reading books over the years, using these tomes as landmarks to see how I have evolved and changed as a person over the years.

Do you have any favorite books that you read when you were younger? How has your perception of them changed over the years?

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

5. Flowers

Well, flower petals to be exact.
When I was younger, I lived in a more rural area, on the side of a secluded cul-de-sac, with a rambling, steep driveway leading up to the house. The driveway was framed on either side with  two or three cherry trees, and in  spring the blossoms would arrive with their pale, creamy complexion. We barely noticed them until the day that they would all float down all at once, covering the ground with  rose-tinted flurries. To me it was like walking through a mystical snowy land, and I would always have to pause to admire the beauty of it all. I would stand hypnotized, watching the petals float back and forth, forth and back, before gliding softly to the ground.
It's the sort of thing that I forget about each year until the day in spring when the petals are released from the tree's delicate clasp and swirled off into the wind.

Do you have any favorite spring-time memories?

Sunday, March 30, 2014

4. Reading a Good Book

Or just a mediocre one.

I spent about 3.5 hours yesterday reading Divergent by Veronica Roth. Not a bad book, and the story line was intriguing, though for how mature some of the topics addressed were, I thought it was written very simplistically.  Not too much descriptive language going on there.... But there's something comforting about curling up with a book and escaping into another world. If you've got a few hours on your hand, I would definitely recommend it. It's a pretty fast read, despite being almost 500 pages long, and has some relatable and interesting characters. I won't give anything away by trying to summarize it, so you'll just have to read it for yourself.... =P

Have you read Divergent yet? If you have, comment down below who your favorite character was, and why!