Writing is my instrument. Words are the notes I play.

hello gurls.

    it doesn't feel like a Monday though, weirdly. Maybe because the early spring sunshine is shining hopefully down on the barren New England landscape, and I finished school early and was somewhat extremely productive, and now I'm sitting on my bunk atop freshly washed sheets and neat blankets, listening to Roy Kim (!!!!!) with my hair in a fantastically messy bun. Or maybe because I took two days off of school last week for the sole purpose of hanging out with my unexpectedly amazing friends and watching Psych All Night and rereading Anne of The Island (and falling in love with Gilbert Blythe all over again) and starting the Return of The King (and shipping Faramir and Eowyn shamelessly). I don't know gurls, I'm just happy in a sunshiney way, fancy-free and more imaginative than ever.
    But enough about me. Time to impart some of my gratuitous happiness on the other, lovelier three-fourths of The Foursome:
    Mercy- your posts do not suck and never suck and never will. I find them bright and warm and GIF-filled and exquisitely Mercyish, the perfect dose of light to bring joy to my usually rushed Tuesdays. Don't you ever change, you beautiful ray of sunshine :)

I pour my heart out to you and then somewhat insult you. That's how I roll yo

    Roseroserooooose- You're cute and we're listening to Roy Kim right now and our little room is filled with sunlight. Also your post was too full of JA and JM (mr. Bag?) but otherwise great. Only, I'm one of those girls who says 'girlie' and I most certainly do NOT go around scratch-and-sniffing people's shoulders. Just saying.
    Grace- I miss your Asian giggle. Is it your mating call? Anyway, thanks for the...enlightening point you made about those Phantom lyrics. My life will truly never be the same.
    Speaking to and of Grace, this Thursday will be our 100th post on Our Thoughts Are Stars! We will be writing a group post to commemorate the shocking reality that we have been posting for 6 months (already?!) and haven't missed a day or started to hate each other or been tracked down by creepers on the Internet. So, on Thursday our loyal readers will have to hear from all fourth of us instead of the lovely Grace all by herself. Be there.
    So, I have been doing a lot of reading lately. I used to read voraciously, before high school and life caught up to me and I did not have many friends. But now I am getting back into the rhythm of reading, getting back into shape like a marathon runner after having kids (great analogy, no?). I stay up later to finish chapters and neglect things -usually schoolwork, but it's my last quarter of senior year and it's not like I even really need to learn anymore- and really just read. I'm not reading as a chore, but I'm almost absorbing the stories, my imagination taking me where my feet cannot or will not go. I mentioned before that I'm working through the Lord of The Rings trilogy. It's like reading poetry that actually makes sense and gives me a yearning for a time of lost princes and chivalry and harrowing battles to conquer. The funny thing is, whatever I read leaks into whatever I write- does that make sense? I journalled about this the other day, so how about I share with y'all what I wrote so you get my drift? Okay, good. Here goes:
    "Something I've noticed is that whenever I read a book I start to write like the author. I devour Anne of Green Gables and become dreamy and idealistic, my essays and blog posts filled with spine-tingling, florid descriptions of autumn sunsets and beautifully imperfect people. John Green makes me gritty, honest, and deep; my words can be controversial but also funny in a teenage way. Jane Austen builds my vocabulary. I write sarcastically, but in such a clever way that only the most cynically intelligent souls completely get it. Tolkien and Lewis make me yearn for the days of chivalry and dauntless questing for what is right. Reading and writing completely go hand in hand- anyone who writes without reading must be a bore, their mind a dried-up riverbed of logical thought. Writers are humble enough to appreciate and learn from the written words of their common man."
    This is what I mean.
    I used to think writing was writing and music was music, that because I'm not a piano prodigy like dear Gracie I'm not as cool or creative or smart. But, writing is like playing music. You use words like notes to create something beautiful- or something cacophonous and disjointed, like awkward notes plinked out on piano keys. I know I go either way with my words. But, writing is my passion- a passion which is just as lovely and well worth pursuing as any other gilded path in the Arts. And my passion would not be as fueled nor as full of potential if  I did not read, for it is the words written by men and women much more established and gifted than I who bring forth the torrent of words stirring within me. Towards the authors I am forever grateful, for without them my words would be as dry and transient as dead grass.
    Towards the authors I also hold many grudges, for killing off favorite characters and ruining my life by inspiring me to leave my comfort zone and try (and usually fail) to achieve greatness. Miss Rowling, that was aimed at you.
     *awkward subject change*
   Finally, gurls, I want you to hear the beautiful song from the beautiful movie (About Time) that I'm going to dance to when I get married:

Listen to it. Love it. Then go watch the movie and freak out over Bill Weasley's face and cry. I know I did :)

How long will I love you?

As long as stars are above you
And longer, if I can.

How long will I need you?
As long as the seasons need to
Follow their plan.

How long will I be with you?
As long as the sea is bound to
Wash upon the sand.

    

    *sniffs* those lyrics read like poetry. I can't handle this. Mercy, I shall await on the wings of hope until I may revel in the pleasure of reading your post on the morrow.

    Oops. I think my Tolkien is showing. ;)

--Laura :)