Anonymous
you used to have a link in your sidebar or tags or something to your writing blog, but it's not there anymore and i was wondering if you'd mind terribly linking to it again? :) i love your writing and i draw a lot of inspiration from it. if you don't want to link it, i understand! thanks and/or sorry in advance!

it was in my about me, and the link used to be in my sidebar but now it’s gone, which is purposeful, because I forget how much I like my blog to be about me in a more obscure way? I like to use my blog to represent myself online while not… worrying TOO much about how I come across… because I’m not in an important enough position in the world to have to fashion an image like that, and that feels like something I need to remember right now. you did not ask for the thought processes behind my blogging and revamping my blog layout, I’m sorry.

I’m also sorry that my writing blog is a gray wasteland full of nothing but unedited, overemotional vomit garbage that I for some reason feel compelled to dump on the people on the internet, rather like this personal blog of mine, as a kind of catharsis. AND especially sorry that I’ve not posted anything new for ages and ages.

I’m planning on rectifying that very soon. I took a little detour from finishing On Writing, the end of which marks my return to writing on a schedule, because goddamn it, I will write, every day, again. I will not grow rusty with disuse. I will not squander my mother’s faith in my abilities, and I will not forget that there are people like you out in the world, drawing inspiration from me.

do you know how much this message touched me when I first got it? I was overwhelmed. I think it might’ve been the last thing I read before I fell asleep, because I wanted it to be right there in my head. or maybe it was the latter; I wanted it to be the last thing I read, because it was so kind, and generous, and wonderful, and seemingly impossible. every time someone comes forward, claiming I’ve done something like this for them—inspired them, helped them win an emotional battle, comforted them in a way that’s allowed them to love themselves better—I am overcome by the sense that there is a purpose to what I love to do, and a purpose to my trying very hard to be what I am. it’s life-affirming and gorgeous and I am deeply grateful to every soul that offers such feeling.

it’s 2 AM and I meant to go to sleep a bit ago but I’ve been reading Kristin Cashore’s blog since I’ve just finished re-reading all of her books (it took me less than a week, which proves I’ve not lost the ability to read quickly, obviously, and a stupid thing to worry about, but nonetheless) and I’ve got so many things to say about them and her but it’s rather late and I’m tired and full of!!! promise? hope, maybe. I’d forgotten how well a book could do that for me. I’ve been very afraid of never reading in the same way ever again, but reading these (for about the fifth time) I’ve realized that of course I still love books just as well as I did and they still love me back, and it’s very heartening, and a huge comfort. I’m very afraid, still, to love them so much, and want so much to write my own, because while I’ll agree that probably everyone talks as much in their head as I do, I don’t know that it’s everyone who narrates everything, or invents so many conversations and situations in different rooms with people they’ve never met or heard of, and uses them as a way to relax and pull back from the stresses of their life, and maybe to muddle through problems or emotions they’ve not gotten a proper look at. and even if it is, even if I’m not at all unique in any aspect of myself, even if there are a thousand people who are cleverer or quicker or more generous or better at managing their time, even if every person I ever meet from this day forward is better at whatever thing it is, in my moment of meeting them, I’m wishing to be better at—it doesn’t matter, because I’ve decided, and I’ve told myself, and my heart, that I want to write, that I love to write, and I do, and I will. and if it takes forever for the fear to leave me, of if it never does, and only retreats far enough to allow me the room to do again what I used to in order to keep it at bay, then that’s fine. I can live with that. I can live with anything, so long as I remember to love and trust myself. so long as I remember to allow myself the things I’ve chosen, and want, and adore, and need. I am big enough to carry my fear and my faith. I am big enough to hold within me everything I need to hold and still be seen, by those who love and know me, as strong and smart and good, and capable. above everything capable, and a writer.

bygrlprty:

have u all thanked space + time + ancestors past for leading us to a life that exists at the same time as hope? if you have, do it again. be grateful every day that things have worked out in such a way that we get to know hope and have her know us.

this is probably a hundred million years old but I just saw it and oh my God????

me in actual real life

mollywaddle:

i just watched the mv for ‘good time’ by carly rae jepsen and owl city for the first time and i cannot believe, i cannot believe that it was treated as a legitimate release i cannot BELIEVE that this slightly more expensive version of rebecca black’s friday was actually given the ok to be heard and seen by humans on earth, but even as ridiculous as those 2 facts are, i mostly cannot believe that They saw the owl city guy leaning against a car in a flannel shirt, gumming along to his lyrics and thought ‘yeah, this is cute. this is fun’ i mean have you SEEN the owl city guy????? he doesn’t know what fun is!!!! i don’t even know if he’s alive!!!!!

clean my floors and do my laundry for me

my horse keeps getting killed by dragons…