I am in a Shakespeare mood today. I'm studying the plays for school, and I have watched two different film adaptions of Much Ado About Nothing in the past couple of weeks (the Kenneth Branagh version will always be my favorite, but the one directed by Joss Whedon [who also directed the Avengers] was great). So, I apologize in advance if this post is terribly old-Englishy and I periodically slip in a "thee" or a "thou."
Anyhow. I loved all of your posts last week, although I was very disappointed that I was unable to punish Grace today. I was preparing a long rant about how overcute and perfect you are, but then you figured out how to publish your post so we let you off the hook just this once. Next time, though, you're going to get it, for I shall plagueth thee with a merry onslaught of words. *Laughs deviously* also Gracie, I do not have a plan for NaShoStoWriMo yet exactly. So far I have come up with the back stories, middle names, and astrological signs for every character in a very short story that I have written little of (I always do that- come up with every minuscule detail of the characters in a story before I write anything down). Rose- I love your haircut, and I love staring at it every day (girls, she looks even sassier now when she tosses her head than when she had the Rose Backus Signature Sassy Bun.Who knew that was possible?). We should make tea -or I should make tea, and you should make hot chocolate- some time soon, and settle on the couch under your feather comforter, and talk about the books we have been reading. I feel like I never have time for you lately, and when I do, you're napping. Story of our lives. And Mercy- that gif you posted that describes me has inspired me to wear pajama pants up to my neck and walk around like a bird-lady. Which only further proves how right you were to say that it described me.
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| don't judge I am who I is. |
My brain has been overrun, overcommitted, overtired lately. I keep telling myself I'll focus more on reading, writing, and relaxing after Halloween (Rachel and I are being fairies for Trunk or Treat!) but then I realize that Halloween is this Thursday, and Friday is November 1st, and I am nowhere near the point of allowing myself to relax. I'm overmotivated and my perfectionistic personality will not allow me to stop and smell the roses. I have school grades to keep up, and colleges to apply to, and I'm knitting a sweater and I have a couple of things due back to the library on Wednesday and Lord knows how I'm going to manage that without a driver's license. I have 39405 books I want to read and movies I'm itching to watch and no matter how much I workout my six-pack just isn't happening. I don't even know why I have friends anymore because I am awful at responding to texts and phone calls and Facebook messages (y'all should feel special that I have made time every Monday to post on OTAS). So, it is almost November and I have an A- in Personal Finance, two of four college apps submitted, a lame two-pack, one-tenth of a sweater sleeve knitted, and dozens of to-do lists and bucket lists left unchecked. So why do I keep overcommitting myself to everything? Go to a petting zoo with my youth pastor and his family and some girls from church? Sure! See Mitzi Gaynor at SHU with Rachel, even though I had never heard of her until yesterday? (Rachel says I'm a good friend) Absolutely! Take part in a Bible study with my small group? Of course!
what have I gotten myself into?
I just want to stop all the stress, yet at the same time I strangely love it. How is this possible, to want the motivation and rushing and go, go, go of life to stop, stop, stop, yet take every opportunity to commit to anything and everything and everyone? I didn't leave the house today. I took a shower and put on sweats and my favorite hoodie, and I read fifty pages in a book I have read twice in the past two weeks while sitting outside in the autumn twilight. And the solitude rejuvinated me. I know I am an extrovert. Personality tests and my own instincts have told me it was so. But sometimes -on weekday evenings, and long car rides, and time spent on the beach- I love the silence. I only love the silence then, because most of the time when I am quiet and/or alone, I think too much. I let anxiety turn the person I think I am into a horrible monster that I cannot possibly be. But what if I am, I ask myself, what if I am alone? What if no one really wants to spend time with me? Why else would I second-guess and hate every word that comes from my mouth? I'm rambling, I know. But my mind rambles.
And now my brothers are telling me all about their trip to Cabela's and it is 7:44 and I have to finish this by eight so I can call a friend and my dad is turning on the TV and I strongly do not like men at the moment because the three closest to me are completely oblivious to the laptop I have been typing on for the past hour.
But, perhaps by nine, all will be silent, and I can read. I'm rereading 'A Proper Romance' by Julianne Donaldson called Blackmoore. And it is insightful and fun and very PG-rated and Jane Austenish. And I am almost done, and I cannot wait to lose myself in the last thirty pages of Kate's temper and Henry's grey eyes and the haunting beauty of the moors and seashore of 1820's England. Which is why this post is rambly and anticlimatic and I beg your forgiveness for my scattered, self-focused thoughts which I have translated into this blog post. I am setting a horrible tone for all your upcoming posts this week. But I desire nothing less than to be alone with a book at the moment.
Regards,
Laura Beth
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