On Books

I like to read. A lot. And my preference in books has changed quite a lot, and I feel like either adult books just aren't as good as middle school type books, or there are just so many that I can't find the good ones.

I've gotten very picky about books.

For example, I like my YA fic books to be not vapid. John Green is good for this. All of his books, while staying hilarious and fun and light, have some serious messages behind them, and I love that. Maureen Johnson does pretty well with this too. But there are so many YA fiction books out there that are just...eh. Too silly and shallow.

I used to read fantasy books a whole lot, but lately I haven't gotten into any. I'm moving over to sci-fi, but it's so hard to find really really good sci-fi. I want sci-fi that's not boring, not overly technical, but still mind-blowingly clever. Classic sci-fi rocks for this. I just read Brave New World and it was fantastic.

So anyway, in the spirit of good books, I'm planning on reading a few of my favorites from my younger years. I've got a stack on my bed ready and waiting for me - Elsewhere, The Giver, A Crack in the Line. If only I had a copy of City of Ember and Once Upon a Marigold.

Fears.

So a late night coupled with a very, very early morning, plus an already weird mood intensified by a heartbreaking movie led me to think about my fears.

I'm afraid of so much. And even the people I'm really close to don't really see the extent of these fears. They know I'm afraid to come out to my dad. But no one knows why.

It's not because he wouldn't approve. He's not that kind of person. It's because I'm afraid to show him too much of myself, because I don't want to upset, even slightly, the image he seems to hold of me in his head. I don't even know what that image is; that scares me too. I just want to seem completely perfect, so that only the superficial fiction that doesn't talk much and spends too much time in her room writing shows through. The few times I've tried to share anything real, there's this look I get...

So I can't. Fear number one.

And then there's the fear that I know is stupid, because I'm "only seventeen". But I'm just afraid that I'm destined to spend my life falling in love with people who will never love me back. I mean, I've done it for a third of my life already. So is it really a stretch to imagine that I never will find someone who will love me?

Fear two.

And speaking of that, I'm afraid I'll never get over this love. Because just when I think I can, something draws me back. Or throws me for a loop. Or shows me that I can't.

Three.

Getting away from love, I'm afraid of the future. I know everyone is. But really. I'm just afraid that the path I'm choosing to go down isn't going to be the right one. I'm afraid that I'll never achieve my dream which I've had since I was 8 of being a published author. I'm afraid I'm not good enough.

Number four.

That's not all, but the full list would be nearly endless.

Fear is crippling. I usually just shove it down deep within myself, tell myself everything's going to be ok, believe others when they say the same. But then, on nights like this, when I know I should sleep but don't want to, that all this fear just rises up in the back of my throat and makes me just sit staring at nothing and trying not to cry.

But the mask has to go back on. The fear has to sink back down into its dark little pit. Life is for living, not thinking about all the things that could go wrong. So I've just got to buck up, grit my teeth, and see what happens.

EXCITEMENT!

I have tickets to see my favorite band ever. I am so, so, so excited.

(And trying not to think about that pesky 18+ warning on the website.)

Tea

I was going to blog about my complicated beliefs in coincidences and the universe, but really I just woke up, I'm incredibly tired, and I want to get some writing done this morning, so I decided to blog about the thing that keeps me alive: tea.

Since I'm from the south, I was raised on sweet tea. I've been drinking it since I was probably 2 years old. It's just a staple of life down here; people in restaurants don't even ask you if you want it "unsweet" because no one drinks it that way. It's heresy.

A few years ago I was introduced to hot tea. And not the wimpy fruity herbal kind; the real stuff. Earl Grey and English Breakfast. Black teas. I can honestly say that the best way to wake up, ever, is getting up before everyone in the house, putting the kettle on, making some tea, and then sitting down and writing or reading a good book while you sip it. It's perfect.

My tea is done.

"And if you're more of a coffee person...you can go die in a hole."

- Charlie McDonnell

A Secret

I do this thing.

I like to read other people's blogs. But not the super famous or popular or "interesting" blogs. Just little blogs, sometimes written by people I know, sometimes not.

My favorites are the ones I know, though.

Because, see, a lot of people make a blog, then either tell a few friends about it or don't tell anyone about it. And then they just post these incredibly personal, insightful things that they think no one would ever read. But I sometimes feel like they secretly hope someone they know will read it and it's like a window into themselves that they couldn't open just through texting, or in school, or talking face to face, even in one of those deep late night conversations.

There's one girl who goes to my school, and she's got several blogs scattered across the internet. I love reading hers because of the dichotomy.

At school, she's known as the fairly cool, snarky, funny girl. Somewhat of a trouble maker. Hipster. Smokes cigarettes and never takes anything too seriously. At least, that's how she presents herself.

But from reading her blog, I really got to know her, better than I ever would just from hanging out with her at school. She's scared of the future. Even though she mocks religion around other people, it's only because she's so confused about it herself. Through blogging she makes herself vulnerable and I (and whoever else stumbles upon her blogs) get to see her.

There's a book I really like called Paper Towns. It's all about how people see each other, and how so often people misimagine each other. They think they know someone from what that person has shown them, but there's so much more underneath that. It also deals with how so many people don't actually see others as human in the same way they are. They either hold people up like gods or dismiss them as "less". I know I do it. People I haven't even met.

And maybe that book is why I like seeing this other side of people. Because this girl, the one whose blog I've been reading all morning, right now seems like the most real, most human person in the world.

I wish I could see everyone like this.