Showing posts with label things i love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label things i love. Show all posts

Saturday, January 2, 2016

so before i had cricket, i had resigned myself to the fact that i would spend the next few years of my life without getting lost in books. i had heard, "i used to read, but then i had kids, and you know, you really can't anymore," so many times that i had accepted it as absolute truth. but then i had him and learned something about myself. i learned that a lot of the time, i will choose books over tv. i will choose books over movies. i will choose books over sleep. i will choose books over music (i went from music in the car to audiobooks. it's awesome.) it may take me longer to get through books, i may have to put it down way more often than i like, but i still pick then back up again (most of the time). i had kids, and i did not give up my stories.

so, without further ado, here's a post about my 2015 books. when i realized i was still reading, my goal was to read 15 books. i surpassed that, obviously.

my list of books that i read this year (mostly in the order that i read them in):
bold: favorites of the year
italics: this was a bad book and i read it so that you don't have to
*: disappointing (this doesn't necessarily mean that it was bad)
anything linked goes to my review of the book on goodreads

  1. Pwned by Matt Vancil
  2. Ready Player One by Ernest Cline *
  3. Dragon Run by Patrick Matthews
  4. Hey Natalie Jean by Natalie Holbrook *
  5. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
  6. Six Moon Summer by SM Reine
  7. All Hallows' Moon by SM Reine
  8. Long Night Moon by SM Reine
  9. Gray Moon Rising by SM Reine
  10. Falling for Hamlet by Michelle Ray
  11. Emma and Elsie Meet Fitzwilliam Darcy by Maddy Raven and Monica Leonelle *
  12. The Demon King by Cinda Williams Chima
  13. The Exiled Queen by Cinda Williams Chima
  14. The Gray Wolf Throne by Cinda Williams Chima
  15. The Crimson Crown by Cinda Williams Chima
  16. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by JK Rowling (reread)
  17. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by JK Rowling (reread)
  18. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by JK Rowling (reread) 
  19. Home by Clementine von Radics
  20. Mouthful of Forevers by Clementine von Radics
  21. Healing Old Wounds with New Stitches by Meggie Royer
  22. The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman (audiobook) (reread)
  23. Wings of Fire: The Brightest Night by Tui T. Sutherland
  24. The Boyfriend List by E. Lockhart (audiobook)
  25. Love, Rosie by Celia Ahern
  26. The Epic Adventures of Lydia Bennet by Katie Rorick
  27. A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray (audiobook) (reread)
  28. Rebel Angels by Libba Bray (audiobook) (reread)
  29. The Sweet Far Thing by Libba Bray (audiobook) (reread)
  30. The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness
  31. Deception Point by Dan Brown (audiobook)
  32. Carry On by Rainbow Rowell
  33. Carry On by Rainbow Rowell (reread)
  34. Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell (reread)
  35. Isla and the Happily Ever After by Stephenie Perkins *
  36. Anna and the French Kiss by Stephenie Perkins (reread)
  37. Lola and the Boy Next Door by Stephenie Perkins (reread)
  38. Isla and the Happily Ever After by Stephenie Perkins (reread)
  39. Beautiful Creatures by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl *
  40. Dramarama by E. Lockhart (audiobook) *
  41. Stargirl by Jerry Spineli (audiobook)
and i started but have yet to finish:
  1. Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein
  2. Beauty Queens by Libba Bray *
  3. Emotional Vampires: Dealing with People Who Drain You Dry by Albert J Bernstein
stats (only counting the completed books):

75.6% of the books read were YA or middle-grade books (this year i'm thinking of reading for my age group more)
7% were poetry 
29% were rereads
80% of my favorite books of the year were rereads
43.9% were standalone books

notes:

i feel like i have to talk about the seven realms series (the chima books). i had so many issues with the writing and the consistency and the wasted potential of the characters and the predictability and just so many things, but it took me almost all summer to get through them because i was traveling and mothering and stuff, and by the time i was ending the series, i was legit sad. after spending so much time with these characters, i had fallen in love with them. i read the books on the kindle app on my phone, but i feel like they now deserve a place on my shelves. i just can't bring myself to buy the series again when there wasn't much difference in price between the ebooks and hard copies. anyway, i wasn't sure if i should bold it or not because i did love them, but i also really didn't. 

isla was another one that i was on the fence about. i remember being over a third of the way into the book and thinking "there is no tension!" (which was actually very helpful because that's always been a problem for me (starting the book too soon) and i never really knew how to fix it but seeing it in someone else's work was a very a-ha moment) and then when the "tension" hit i couldn't get over how contrived and stupid the problem was. but i still liked it? i dunno. i reread the rest of the series to see if that changed anything, but it actually did more damage than good because it made me see how problematic things in the other books were, and those were my go-to fluff in times of stress and now they're ruined. sigh. 

overall, though the titles are every bit as embarrassing as usual (and by that i mean you should all wish to have my taste in books), i'm actually pretty proud of the number of books i managed to get through. honestly, it would have been more if i didn't drag out the bad books because i refused to just put them down but couldn't seem to pick them up either. next year i'm hoping to branch out a bit. i'm also planning on getting through the books that i keep buying but not reading. my to-be-read list is getting a bit ridiculous. i think those two hopes may be contradictory. 

Saturday, October 17, 2015

there's another world we're living in tonight

[one] you guys, i want to live in the wizarding world of harry potter. i really do. it was so well designed and executed and just perfect in every single way. it's been a few weeks since i've been back home, and i still feel like i should just quit my life and go back. the "london" side is perfect. like, it seriously looks like a street pulled straight out of london, and then you go into diagon alley and it's like you're home. (if you, like me, have always felt more at home in fictional worlds than this real one i'm stuck in.) fire breathing dragons, people running around with wands performing spells that actually work, sipping butterbeer. i sat in the sun eating a scoop of florean fortescue's ice cream while listening to celestina warbeck perform live, and i cannot even explain how perfect that moment was. i would move to orlando in a heartbeat, get an annual pass, and spend every minute in diagon alley if it didn't mean that i had to live in florida. no offense to floridians, but the news stories that come out of that state have me noping big time. plus, too many bugs. but sigh, take me back.

[two] it's almost nanowrimo time again! i was, as is typical of me in octobers, wondering if i should even do it this year. i have a baby that wants me to spend my days building towers for him to knock down. i have a dissertation that i need to write slash start from scratch with slash cry about in the bathroom. i have a severely neglected blog that i never seem to have time to update. and yet, i think i can write a fifty thousand word novel? am i crazy? apparently. i usually have some hint of a plot idea or a character or a feeling that could be turned into something by the beginning of october. this year? nothing. at first i took that as a sign to take a break from it, but then i got on the site, looked at titles in the adoption station, and started to get the excitement in the pit of my stomach that means creativity is near. i didn't see any titles that jumped out at me and filled my head with a story, but just looking through them started to get my brain turning, and now there is a feeling starting to bubble up that i might be able to turn into something. and it feels almost as perfect as being back in diagon alley. if i could spend my days writing in a fictional world on the beach, i think i'd die of happiness.

[three] baby update! cricket is seven months now. which means that it has been over half a year since he's been around and that is just ridiculously crazy to me. he's eating solids and crawling (sort of. he does some weird version of the worm across the floor.) and sitting up and knocking down towers and jumping and just basically being not a newborn anymore. it's mindblowing to me though it really shouldn't be, this is what babies do, they grow up. but goodness this is fast, having a baby around again brought light to the fact that i know waaay too many kid songs and if i used that brain power to remember something more productive i could probably be some sort of academic genius at this point with three post-graduate degrees, a hundred published articles, and seven schools begging me to work for them. instead i just have a vague sense of guilt and frustration and a much edited outline for a new dissertation topic. oh well.

*Here With Me - The Killers

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

at two weeks postpartum i started a post about how i had my baby. but taking care of a baby, and having crazy hormonal crying jags, and having guests, and grading papers, and dealing with a cold without the magic of nyquil, and forgetting about it makes blogging a little difficult. so i would add to the story every couple of days, and i just realized that it is a monster. you can read it in the post below, but really, it takes a very long time to say what i will summarize in the next paragraph.

i had my baby! my water broke on march eleventh (my husband's birthday) which was a complete shock to me because a) with seven kids between my mom and sister, neither of them ever had their water break so i wasn't expecting it at all and b) as a first-time mom i was told i would likely be late, and since my mom was late with most of her kids i was expecting to be induced. after panicking for a bit, i headed to the hospital where i was admitted and surprised to find that i was having regular contractions. (i wasn't feeling them at all.) i walked around for a few hours, got a couple hours of sleep, and then the nurse checked me and to all of our disappointment i was only one centimeter dilated. i was started on pitocin, and the contractions started to get super painful. my doctor said i would likely have the baby around seven, i said five (because hospital policy was eighteen hours after your water breaks you get a csection if you haven't delivered yet), and my dad said i'd have it at two. i got my epidural, got checked again and surprised everyone with how fast i had progressed, and had my baby at two:oh-six. doctors and nurses were all amazing, and i felt really lucky about how it all went down. recovery sucked.

oh, and we named him yazeed.

the weekend after i had him (when he was ten days old) my sister and her family came all the way over from riyadh to see him in a surprise visit. i was literally the only one that didn't know they were coming, so only i was surprised. it was actually pretty awesome. then my cousin and her family came down from boston and my grandma came down from connecticut and there were so. many. people.

anyway, now you're pretty much caught up with everything. for now, at least. i'll probably talk about all this more when i don't have a crying baby and a really bad cold. 
as you may have figured out by now in my absence, i had my baby! he will be two weeks old on thursday and it still all seems kind of ridiculous to me. i'm someone's mom, guys. i still can't manage to say that with a straight face. anyway, here is the longer than it should be story of how my baby was inside of me one day and outside of me the next, or as i like to dramatically call it: the birth of a mother. (complete with unnecessary details and probably full of parts that you don't want to know.)

my husband turned twenty-seven on march eleventh. we had already decided to skip the whole gift-giving thing this year because new houses and new babies equal lots of money and stress and really, i could not handle the thought of any more. plus, i was giving us a baby, so like, don't be greedy. despite that, i felt bad letting the day pass completely uncelebrated so i decided to make dinner and get a nice card. i am not really the making dinner sort, although i totally seem like i should be, so this was a big deal. (in my defense, our schedules are so weird that we are only home together for dinner maybe twice a week.) i made salisbury steak with gravy, mashed potatoes, corn, and a carrot cake for dessert that my husband had literally been asking me to make for two plus years. better late than never. (side story: when i first got married i had decided to make salisbury steak for dinner one night and my mom said that she hated salisbury steak. so i didn't make it. even though she wasn't even going to eat from it. in the almost four years since then, my husband has said, "why don't you make salisbury steak?" many, many times, and i always respond with, "no. my mom hates it." which somehow seems like a better reason than "because i am lazy and how about i make us some soup out of a can instead?" like the cake, better late than never.) as we sat down to dinner that night, i said, "looks like the baby won't be born on your birthday after all." he was kind of hoping that he would be. and he said, "my birthday is not over yet." 

fast forward a few hours to us sitting on the couch watching tv. i look at the clock and comment on how weird it is that i am still awake and alert because for weeks i had been going up to bed at eight and falling asleep by nine at the absolute latest. it was ten:thirty and i had no desire to go up to bed at all. my husband, on the other hand, was mostly asleep on the couch already. at ten:forty five, i got up to pee because that is really what you spend most of your time doing when you are thirty-nine weeks pregnant. when i got into the bathroom, there was a small pop feeling followed by a gush of water, and i immediately thought, "oh great i just peed on myself." (maybe skip ahead to the next paragraph if you are easily grossed out.) so of course as i walk out of the bathroom, i wake up my husband and say, "i just peed on myself, and it's all your fault." (he had been making incontinence jokes pretty much the entire pregnancy. i was insistent that it would not happen to me no matter how pregnant i got.) i go upstairs to change and then feel another small trickle down my leg and i thought, seriously?! and a small feeling of uneasiness started to creep into my mind. i pushed it back, but when i got to the bathroom i noticed that my pantiliner was not just soaking wet, but also tinged slightly pink. i put on a pad, went to the top of the stairs, and said, "don't fall asleep. there is a very high chance that i did not, in fact, pee on myself." and then i proceeded to freak out

see, i was not prepared in the least bit for my water to break. my mom had five kids. my sister had two kids. neither of them ever had their water break. as i first time mom, i was told that i would likely deliver late. my mom delivered late on most of her kids, so i figured i would too. i was preparing myself to be induced at exactly forty-one weeks. i had already planned out my last few days of pregnancy. there were things that needed to get done, and i had specified the exact times to do it all in. except now, my time may have been stolen from me. there is no false labor with your water breaking. there is no going home to wait for a few days. the thing about your water breaking is that it sets a timer for the doctors. you generally have twenty-four hours from the minute it breaks to get the baby out of you. once the timer is up, they go in and get it themselves. i did not want a c-section at all, but my water broke and i had no contractions so i continued to freak out. it seemed like the best option at the time.

i whatsapped my older sister (several times) and she didn't answer. neither of my sisters answered my frantic messages in our whatsapp group. in the midst of swyping frantically on my phone, i was trying to see if my water really broke or not. i sat on my bed for ten minutes. when i stood up, i felt a gush. i laid down for ten minutes. when i stood up, i felt nothing for half a second, then a gush. meanwhile, my husband was very much awake at this point and trying to get things ready to go to the hospital. my sister finally responded to me with the oh-so-helpful advice of "call your doctor." which i did, of course. i left a message and waited for her to call me back. as i waited, i cried to my husband that i was not ready to have the baby today. i had plans. the doctor called me back, said that based on my description she was sure my water had broken, and told me to come straight to the hospital. the good news was that the doctor i was hoping would deliver me was the one on call. the bad news was that ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod it was time. (other bad news was that there was a golden retriever wandering ownerless around the neighborhood and i am deathly afraid of dogs and was partly serious when i said i wasn't going to the car unless it went away.)

the drive to the hospital was pretty uneventful. i mean, it was almost midnight so traffic was great. i wasn't having contractions so there was none of that drama to deal with. i called my parents and told them that i was headed to the hospital but no, they didn't need to meet us there. we got to the hospital, parked, and went into the ER. "my water broke," i told the guy at the front desk, my voice shaking just a little. so he had me sign the hippa form and the form allowing the hospital to tell my guests that i was there and found someone to escort me up to labor and delivery. (pre-registering is awesome.)

up at l&d, we made our way to the nurse's desk. "my water broke," i told them. "big gush?" the nurse behind the computer asked. "more like a few small ones," i said. she nodded. "still leaking?" she asked. i nodded. "meagan will show you to your room," she said, and then another nurse, meagan, magically appeared and showed me to room 2. once there, she gave me a robe, a giant hospital pad, filled out the chart on my wall, and started asking me a whole bunch of fascinating questions like "are you gbs positive?" (the answer of which was no, in case you are curious.) after meagan finished getting all of my information, jaimie - who would be my nurse for the night - came in. there was a brief moment of disappointment because i was told by several people who delivered at my hospital that anna was the best nurse you could get for delivery, but this quickly dissipated because, as it turns out, jaimie was awesome, and i kind of fell in love with her. jaimie put in my saline lock and called for someone to draw my blood while meagan hooked me up to a monitor and filled her in on my story (water broke, zero cm dilated at last appointment almost a week ago, zero percent effaced).

"so your contractions are not painful?" jaimie asked me. "i'm not having contractions at all," i said. meagan and jaimie shared a look. "actually, you are," jaimie told me. "regular ones, too. see those hills on the monitor? that's what those are." i was floored. after a bit more talk about contractions and doctors and stuff, i asked the inevitable question. "so, i know that having my water break means the clock is ticking. i have twenty-four hours to deliver this baby and then... c-section?" "actually," jaimie said, "the hospital gives you eighteen hours. if it looks like you're making good progress, though, and everything is okay with the baby, your doctor may push it a little or up to the full twenty-fours." and that was when my stomach dropped and all of the nerves came back. eighteen hours?! only?! i was told that first deliveries were long, like really long. and i couldn't even feel my contractions yet.

jaimie brought me some ice water and told me to walk around the floor and/or my room to try and make the contractions stronger. my husband turned on thor 2 and i walked. and walked and walked and walked. periodically a nurse would come in and hook me back up to the monitors. by the time three o'clock rolled around, i was tired of walking - just plain tired, really - and had been feeling the contractions for about an hour. not in an ogmygod oouuuccchh contractions kind of way but in an oh yes i think that may be my stomach tightening or actually maybe i just imagined that sort of way. but anyway, at a little after three i decided enough was enough, and i was going to sleep.

i had been told that i could eat any clear liquids, which meant ice chips and popsicles and broth. i was too nervous at that point to eat and then eventually too tired. i regret this because once i woke up, this privilege was revoked.

i woke up at six when jaimie came back in to tell me that her shift was almost over and also to check if i had made any progress overnight. and i couldn't exactly see what was going on, but i'm pretty sure that jaimie had her arm up to her elbow inside of me before she announced that "i was dilated to a one, but my cervix was still way up in new york." because walking and contracting for hours seemed to have done little to move my body towards getting my baby out, despite the fact that it had decided it was ready to get it out with the whole water breaking thing, my doctor decided to start me on pitocin. i had heard horror stories about pitocin, as most pregnant women have, so i was not too thrilled about this decision, but i was totally willing to try anything that would keep me away from a c-section.

at seven i was introduced to my new nurse, wendy. i was disappointed that i once again did not get anna, and this time i wasn't distracted from that disappointment by falling in love with her. not that she was bad or anything, she was just... fine, i guess. and i couldn't help but notice that she had big fingers and really long nails and there was no way that she was going to check my cervix if i could help it. at seven:fifteen wendy started my pitocin drip at 2 mL per minute, telling me that she would periodically be increasing it, probably reaching sixteen by the end. at almost nine, i finally saw my doctor. she came in and talked for like three seconds (she didn't want to check my progress for fear of introducing bacteria and causing an infection. and i sort of lied to her because she said "you were a two this morning when jaimie checked you, right?" and i didn't correct her because being a one meant that i was progressing pathetically and i did not want to go to a c-section. in hindsight, lying to the doctor is really stupid. you should maybe not do that should you ever be in a similar position). she reassured me that she would wait as long as possible before sending me to a c-section (past the eighteen hours if she could), told me that she was on call until four, and then, when i asked how long she thought this would take, she said, "you probably have another ten hours."

shortly after that, my parents showed up. "you're just in for a long day of sitting around and waiting," i told them. "i really would have called you guys once things start to get interesting." (they were somehow convinced that i would go into labor and not tell them, and i'm still not entirely sure how or why they thought this.) they told me that they didn't mind. wendy kept coming in to up my pitocin, and contractions started to get uncomfortable. and then they started to hurt. and oh my god why was my dad in the room when all i wanted to do was cuss? my dad, to distract me, decided to make a bet on when we all thought i would deliver. "the doctor said ten hours," i told him. my dad scoffed and repeated the question. "five," i said, mainly because that would mark the end of my eighteen hours and based on my lack of progression the previous night, i would be whisked off to my c-section at that point. "four thirty," my mom said. "three:thirty or four," my husband said. my dad shook his head. "the baby will be out by two," he said with such assurance. it was my turn to scoff.

at some point during the morning, it wasn't wendy that came in to up my pitocin dosage, but another nurse. "i'm anna," she said. "i'm going to be helping wendy out for a bit because another of her patients went into labor." and i did a little happy dance inside. outside i started to say something and then gripped the bedrail and forced myself to breathe through another contraction. "when can i get an epidural?" i asked. "whenever you feel like you need one," she said. i gritted my teeth and decided to hold out a bit longer.

shortly after my pitocin dosage hit twelve, anna came back in. it was ten:fifteen at this point and my dad and husband had left the room to raid the cafeteria for breakfast. i had been discussing whether or not i wanted to get an epidural now or hold out a bit longer. "i'm going to have to lower this," she said. "your contractions are getting to be too strong and too close together." right as she was leaving the room, i called her back. "wait," i said. my mom gave me an encouraging look. "i think i want an epidural now."

before i could get an epidural, though, i had to get an entire bag of fluids into me, so anna hooked me up to that. and let me tell you something, getting up to pee when you're having contractions and are hooked up to an iv line is annoying and harder than it should be. adding a second iv line just makes everything even worse. it took about twenty minutes for the bag to be emptied into my veins, and then anna came back. "i'm going to go get the anesthesiologist," she said. "when she gets here then only your husband can be in the room." my parents nodded. "do you need to use the bathroom?" i shook my head.

at eleven:thirty, the anesthesiologist walked in and started to read me all of the bad things that could happen if i got an epidural and i signed a consent form saying that i knew that this could possibly go very wrong, but i wanted the drugs anyway. then anna started moving me into position on the edge of the bed. she handed me a pillow to take and hunch over. "wait," i said suddenly. "i need to pee." "now?" anna asked as the anesthesiologist gave me a look that clearly said "what are you, twelve? i have other patients to see. i don't have time for this.""i'm sorry. yes, now. i'm sorry. i didn't need to until i sat up. sorry." "no need to be sorry," anna said, taking back the pillow. "go ahead." (the good thing about needing to pee literally seconds before getting the epidural was that they decided that since my bladder was empty they would put in the catheter later, after i was already fully numb. getting a catheter was honestly one of the biggest things in my anti-epidural column so i welcomed this news excitedly.) and then the part came where the anesthesiologist ran her hand down my back multiple times before saying something about how all of the bones seem really close together and she's not sure she has enough room and oh well this will have to do, and i decided that i hated her just a little. and then she started to jab me with needles and try and insert catheters into my back all while telling me repeatedly that i really needed to stay still so she could do this. in the midst of contractions and me hating her. "it's kind of hard to stay still when your jabbing a needle into my back," i snapped. and then she got it in. and i felt the cold burn of the drugs make its way down my back and with every minute that passed it got harder and harder to feel my legs. and i decided that the anesthesiologist wasn't that bad after all. after sticking around long enough to make sure that the drugs were working and she wasn't going to have to reinsert the thing, she left. "i'm sorry i snapped at you," i said as she was heading out the door.

once the contractions stopped distracting me from the fact, i realized that i was exhausted. i still had hours to go until the baby got here, so i decided to take a nap for a few hours. of course, before i could get into a real deep sleep, the clock struck twelve:thirtyish and my doctor came in to check on me. "let's see if you got further than a two," she said, and i took a second to pray that i had. anna told her that she hadn't put it my catheter yet, and my doctor said that she would "while she was in." ugh. but, as anna stood by with the catheter at the ready, she said "oh! you're already at an eight." she and anna were both thoroughly shocked because i was a first time mom and couldn't even feel my contractions until a few hours ago and anna kept saying "she was handling her contractions like she was at four." because i was so far along and had an empty bladder, they decided that i didn't need to get a catheter at all, and i did a mental happy dance. i was told that if my water hadn't broken, they would have checked my progress and decided that i was too far along for an epidural, and for the first time i was grateful that things had happened as they had. "you know what this means?" my doctor said. "you definitely could have handled delivering without the drugs.... but why should you?" she added, and i thought exactly. then she sent my husband out of the room to go get lunch because "that baby will be here in an hour. "my dad was right," i said, and told her about our bet. "that's amazing," she said. "would he consider working for me? if i could tell my patients exactly when they'll deliver... think of how much money we could make."

my mom stayed with me in the room as my husband left to get lunch with my dad (who had been taking phone calls at the time of the doctor's visit). anna told me that i would likely start to feel some pressure and to page her if it got too bad, but that it was really best to let my body work my baby down the canal itself for as long as possible before i started to push. after a while anna came in to lower my pitocin again because my contractions were getting out of control, and then wendy walked in and i immediately got less happy because i did not want her. "i can take back over here if you want," she told anna. no no no no no no  no no, i thought. and after a few minutes of them both saying that they didn't mind, anna said that she would just stick with me since i was almost done and she was basically my nurse all day, and wendy said that she would go find another patient and i heaved a sigh of relief. (because, as it turns out, anna was awesome.)

at one:fifteen, my doctor came back in to check on me and said, "you are ready to push." "i can't," i said, feeling like i had just walked into every tv show and movie ever. "my husband isn't back from lunch yet." my mom went to get him quick, and they started prepping the room for delivery. the room lights were turned off, and instead this overhead spotlight thing was turned on. gloves were snapped on, tables covered in tools were wheeled in and prepped, and they got me into pushing position. and yet my husband was still not back from lunch. at one point i let the horror stories i had read on the babycenter forums get the best of me and asked the doctor, "and you're sure that he's head down, right?" she laughed at me and said, "that's either a head or the hairiest butt i've ever seen." and that was how i found out he had hair, which surprised me because my husband and i were both bald babies. we laughed a bit about the things people say online.

apparently my body had done a pretty good job of pushing my baby through the birth canal and my doctor said that it was time to push for real. so as the nurse held one leg up, she held the other, and they told me to push. and then promptly told me that i was pushing wrong. and then my husband walked in. he took over leg holding duty from the doctor and was also put on making sure i curled my head in while pushing duty and when the next contraction hit i did three pushes again. wrong again. apparently i wasn't pushing hard enough but it is surprisingly really hard to push for ten seconds while holding your breath with half of your body numb. after the next set, she said, "your face is turning red when you push which, it shouldn't. that's wasting your energy. you should only be pushing with these muscles." a million snarky replies came into my head as i tried my hardest not to snap at her while simultaneously thinking that maybe i should have listened to the instructor at my childbirth class when she said we should practice relaxing and controlling specific muscles independent of the rest. "it's like taking the biggest poop of your life," my doctor said. "it really is," agreed anna.

eventually, i got the hang of pushing. (though let me tell you, ten seconds can be really, really long.) and i'm pretty sure that he was crowning forever. and thank god for drugs because the pushing part? it was actually sort of fun. i couldn't feel anything that was going on down there, and between contractions we were all laughing and sharing stories. my doctor asked about other stories that people had shared on the forums. i mentioned to anna how everyone had said she was the best. we talked about little debbie snacks, and apparently my doctor loves them too and any part of me that did not already love her quickly hopped on board. apparently she and her sister used to throw swiss cake rolls at the scary german shepherd next door when they were little and trying to get on its good side and didn't know that dogs aren't supposed to eat chocolate. (the subject came up when she said i should get a treat after this and i mentioned that i had little debbie in my hospital bag.) she also kept putting baby magic on the baby's head to help him slide out, telling me that i was awesome (except at the beginning when she said if i wasn't up to pushing she was going to deliver another baby and come back to me after), and when the baby was finally coming out she pressed on my stomach and said, "you were all baby, girl."

when it looked like the baby was almost here, anna went out and called in the rest of the delivery team: a nurse to tend to the baby and a nurse to help the doctor, and at two:oh six, i finally delivered a beautiful baby boy. the nurse took him from the doctor, rubbed him down quickly with a blanket, and put him on my chest. and it was the most amazing moment of my life. i remember looking at my husband and saying, "we made a baby" and staring down at him whispering "my baby" while ignoring whatever the doctor was saying to me. he was tiny and warm and curled up on me like he thought he was still in the womb. i honestly did not even hear anything she said. up until they took my baby away to weigh and measure him, and then i heard lovely words like "second degree tear" and "you'll need a stitch by your rectum." as she was stitching me up, i asked if i had delivered the placenta yet. she said no, but that she likes to be efficient with her time, and i remember a moment of panic (i think the exhaustion and adrenaline rush got to me) thinking that if she stitched me up, how would the placenta get out? the minute i asked about it, it started to slide out "as if i called it" as the doctor said. it was gross. the doctor also kept saying that i needed to stop clenching my muscles and that she was surprised that i had so much control over them with the epidural that was still working really well. (even though at one point during the pushing i did something that caused the drugs to spaz out and stop drugging me. the doctor assured me that there was enough left in my line that i wouldn't even notice, and she was right.)

meanwhile, the baby was off under the heater with my husband and his nurse. "this nurse is really good at guessing baby weight," my doctor said. the nurse picked up the baby and weighed him in her hands. "seven pounds three ounces," she said with confidence. we all laughed as the doctor said, "you're good, but not that good." and then she put him on the scale (or something? i couldnt actually see how he was weighed). "seven pounds three ounces," she announced excitedly. the doctor looked over at her, clearly impressed, then turned to me, "if i could get her and your dad together, we could have a great act."

i'm just going to take a moment here to gloat. just like i did when i heard his weight for the first time. the doctor that had given me the most grief about my weight gain, even when the other doctors said that i was normal or doing great, always said that the ideal baby weighed seven pounds two ounces, and that mine was likely going to be closer to ten pounds because i obviously wasn't taking care of myself and gaining too much (although some weeks she walked into the exam room all, "you're doing great mama."). my baby was only one ounce heavier than her ideal. ha. in your face. i think it was the drugs, but i did my gloating out loud at the hospital like an idiot. my doctor graciously refrained from calling me an idiot to my face and instead laughed about how exact her colleague is compared to herself, as she always says that the ideal baby weighs between seven and eight pounds.

soon enough the doctor and nurses sans anna left the room, and i sat there with my baby on me once again, marveling at how tiny and absolutely perfect he was. before we had even left the delivery room, he was sucking his thumb. it was kind of the most adorable thing i had ever seen.

over all, the nurses i had were all awesome. and when i was moved to the recovery/family room, i had amazing nurses and nurse technicians, too. i was lucky: with my pregnancy, my labor, my delivery, my recovery, and my baby, and i am so grateful for it all. (actually, though, recovery sucks. the first two days home were probably the worst in my life. and stitches are awful. and gross. but as soon as i had convinced myself that it would never end and i would be miserable forever, things got better. and continued to do so. and if i haven't said this enough over the course of my pregnancy, the human body is amazing and miraculous.)

Friday, February 27, 2015

these are just a couple of my cravings

there are fourteen days until my estimated due date. that's exactly two weeks. i have gone between nervous and excited so many times that i am now stuck in some sort of weird dazed limbo. baby clothes and sheets and everything else are washed. take home outfits from the hospital are chosen and packed. bassinet will be set up today and car seat is being installed on sunday. the list of last minute items to get on saturday is shorter than i thought possible, and really only has one item on it that will be used before four months. i filled my car with gas on wednesday even though i still had almost a quarter of a tank left. (i never fill up my car unless i am at E or the line right above it.)

with my pregnancy drawing to a close, i thought i'd preserve on my blog the answer to the question i have been asked the most over the past nine months: have you had any weird cravings? and i get it. i mean, just watch any tv show or movie that features a pregnant lady and you'll start to think that all we want to eat is pistachio ice cream with pickles. but unfortunately - or fortunately i guess - the answer is no.

here is what i did crave this pregnancy:


  • wegman's chocolate cake. it is pretty much the best chocolate cake you will ever eat and being pregnant was the perfect excuse to have my husband go out and get me a slice way more often than i probably should have.
  • ice cream sandwiches. and none of that fancy tollhouse cookie stuff. the original cheap ones that people say are gross because they never melt or something. though why you would let it sit around long enough to see if it would melt is beyond me.
  • ruffles chips. this was perhaps one of my most tv cliche pregnant moments. i wanted ruffles really, really badly. i was going to die if i didn't get some right now. i didn't even care what flavor they were. my husband went to the store and came home with four huge family size bags of chips and... none of them were ruffles. i cried and threw a hormonal fit.
  • chicken caesar salad. i ate this for lunch/dinner at least four or five times a week for months. i kind of want one right now.
  • black beans, microwave some in a bowl with pepperjack cheese OR throw some on your salad and you basically have the most delicious meal i could think of. when i wasn't eating chicken caesar salads i was eating this. one time i thought i'd be fancy and throw some corn in with my beans and cheese, and it was probably the worst decision i have ever made. well, tied with that time that i thought it would be a good idea to put both blueberries and raisins in my morning oatmeal. blech.
  • hot fudge sundaes. this one makes me want to cry a little. i've wanted a real hot fudge sundae since the summer. i have gotten a bunch of sundaes over this time (three in the past two weeks) but they are all either hot fudge with soft serve ice cream or real ice cream with caramel. because apparently the ice cream shops around me have all decided that they don't believe in hot fudge anymore. i think it's a conspiracy of sorts.  
  • zucchini.  there was one time that my husband was picking up burgers from ruby tuesday and i told him to get me zucchini with my burger instead of fries. he looked at me weird and asked if i wouldn't rather get a side of zucchini and my fries instead. i am a huge fry person (really any type of potato) and so i got his confusion, but no, i just wanted the zucchini. he was so sure i was going to regret my decision when he came home with the food, but that zucchini was delicious and choosing it over fries was maybe the best food-related decision i made this year. i am having zucchini for lunch today and am already excited for it. (of course, i'm not crazy and have gone out to get just fries on more than one occasion.) kind of on the same note, i've always been kind of whatever about green beans, but one night my dad made them with a roast and i realized that green beans were probably one of the best vegetables to grace the earth. i immediately went out and bought my own. my love affair with them has since fizzled, but i do appreciate them more than i ever did before.
  • root beer floats. i don't think this needs explaining. last week the two liter bottle of root beer that i finally caved and got finished and now the vanilla ice cream in my freezer and i are both really sad.
  • cheese enchiladas. but really, who doesn't want a cheese enchilada for every single meal? even not pregnant i could have gone for that. i love my mexican food.
  • strawberry milk. this one was weird because if it is not in my granola i really don't do milk. i will occasionally go for a chocolate milk but i have this weird obsession about milk going bad so i have to mix it really fast and practically drink it with my head in the fridge. i think that before this pregnancy, the last time i had strawberry milk i was probably six. for the past couple of weeks i've been really into chocolate milk.
  • there was the day that i really wanted chipotle (and ended up getting it for dinner). i'm not sure if it should make the list because it was really only that one time, but i'm putting it on here because it was like a physical need how badly i wanted it. kinda like the ruffles. 
so there you have it: the things i craved the most this pregnancy. nothing really weird. and a lot of them are things that i love all the time (ice cream, root beer, cheese enchilladas, caesar salads) but that moved from just "favorites" to "i need to stuff my face with this right now or something really bad might happen." i've been wanting pickles a lot, too, but i don't think i've wanted them any more than i usually do, so... 

*Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk - Rufus Wainwright

Monday, January 26, 2015

i want it now

this will be a whiny rant.

i have been dreaming of girl scout cookies lately. because it is girl scout cookie season, and i should be able to get some. but i can't. because girl scouts are nowhere to be found. seriously, it's like they have all gone into hiding or something. i suspect my doctor is behind this. i want thin mints and samoas and tagalongs and trefoils. and i want them really, really badly.

i get that selling cookies is supposed to teach the girl scouts a bunch of things, and if the company just sold them online no one would learn anything. or something. but, really, most girl scouts aren't actually selling the cookies these days. their parents are. they are using facebook and pinning up order sheets in office break rooms. and because the cookies are crack, people buy hundreds of them. and the scouts get to take the forms back to their troop leaders and get whatever prize they were working towards. so they should just let people order online is what i'm saying.

the booths won't start popping up until the end of february. the first one in my area will be at four o'clock on february twentieth. yes, i checked. that's like, a month away. and i'll be at the very end of my pregnancy and who knows if i'll want to venture out to get the cookies then. i want them now. and i know that even if i order from a girl scout now i won't get them until end of february (because the world is cruel) but at least i'll know they're coming.

sigh. first world problems.

*I Want It All - Queen

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

the things we lost in the fire fire fire

so i read we were liars last night (because i have awesomely amazing friends that surprise me with books i want to read in the mail because they are awesomely amazing). i'm not going to talk about the story because if any of you want to read it, you should go into it completely blind. (i will say though that i predicted the ending super early in the book but still found it really enjoyable. so. also i wrote a review of it on goodreads and if you read it (the book) then i want to talk to you about it. because book talk.)

but anyway, the book is written in this lyrical slash poetic prose (and don't you hate reviews that say that? don't you hate even more books that are written in verse or try to be "lyrical?" so much pretentiousness. this one grew on me, though.) and i started reading it last night after a pretty crappy day ending. i had that dull headache that you get after crying too much and my eyes were burning and still not sure if they were done crying and would randomly tear up again when i least expected them to. i was only going to read the first chapter or two (or ten when i saw how short they were) but i ended up just reading through to the end. because of the story and the writing style and my headache and my thoughts that i didn't want to think and the quiet that settles on the world sometime after one:thirty in the morning and the bright light of my bedroom compared to the dark of the rest of the apartment and my husband sleeping next to me (i asked if the light was bothering him, okay? i'm not entirely selfish) and the way that every position gets uncomfortable when you read in bed for so long and the random lines in the book that would jump out at me and crawl into the folds of my brain to stay there forever, there was something surreal about the whole thing.

now, usually, when i read a book that i like, especially one like we were liars, the first thing i do when i finish it is turn it right back over and start reading it from the beginning again. when you read a book for the first time, you are reading to know what happens. and sometimes you miss things. little lines or glances between characters or small references that your brain just skips right over to get to the big ending. so i read it again. and i read it slower. and i enjoy picking up on all the little things that i missed the first time. last night, though, i closed the book, thought about it for a minute, played candy crush, checked instagram, and went to sleep. and now i can't decide whether i want to reread it or not.

i mean, i really liked this book. (the good thing about being busy this summer was that i missed all the hype for it and got to go into it without expectations or spoilers.) but i don't know if i liked it so much because the surrealness added something to the chaos of the book or because the book really was just that amazing despite the predictability and if it would fall short on a reread. i don't know if i want to risk how much i like the book just to get the small things that i missed. (these are the problems in life that i don't mind having, that i wish all problems were like.)

what i do know is that i have missed books. more than i realized.

*Things We Lost in the Fire - Bastille

Saturday, June 21, 2014

i know it's hard

back in high school, there was a running joke of sorts about my girl-scout-ness for lack of a better word. you know, because i did things like bake brownies from scratch and we had a craft room (slash box after we moved) in my house. they would make comments about how i probably made my skirt and my tights and my bag and... you get the idea. a friend wrote in my end of the year notebook thingie:
"I'll remember your craftiness/girl scoutness and how you practically made everything you own... I can imagine you probably made this notebook yourself you liar... that man didn't give it to you."
(those ellipses are not me editing the quote. we were all really big on ellipses back then....) she then wrote that if i was a shape i would be a rectangle, but that is neither here nor there.

anyway. it has been eight years since i graduated high school, and i feel like i am becoming the person that they said i was back then. i just want to make everything. i want to spend hundreds of thousands of hours knitting and only stop when my hands are so cramped that i can barely hold the needles. and even then, i'll just switch to crocheting. (who woulda thought? me, crocheting.)  i want every blanket in my house to be made by me. i want to knit all my clothes. (i'm not even joking, i had the strongest urge to knit myself an entire outfit the other day but i refrained because although i'm fine with being the person who wants to knit their entire wardrobe, i don't think i'm ready to become the person that actually knits her own clothes.) once i finish this turtle scarf for my sister, i plan on crocheting a teddy bear. because why not. i want everyone i know to have babies so that i can make them blankets and hats and sweaters and toys. i want to have made every pot, plate, and mug i own. every vase and box and bowl. i want to make my own notebooks. (i've only done paper-making once outside of science class in sixth grade, but i loved it.)

my most recent crafty urge is to take up weaving. my mom has this huge loom (that i totally plan on stealing someday) that we were kind of obsessed with growing up. so she bought a table loom (that i plan to take a lot sooner than someday) and taught us to weave. we made blankets for our dolls, but then moved on, like kids do. recently, though, i have seen a bunch of woven tapestries and cannot shake the feeling of i need to do that. summers are kind of crazy, so i asked my mom to reteach me to weave in the fall, which she said she'd do. but i still want to weave right now. i am trying really, really hard not to buy myself a lap loom which pretty much needs no teaching because that is fifty dollars that could be used on so many other things. but good god is it hard. if i make it to the end of the summer without writing about my new woven artwork for my walls, i think i deserve a prize.

*Keep Your Head Up - Andy Grammer

Monday, June 16, 2014

outside the sun is shining, seems like heaven ain't far away

the thing about marrying a crazy sports fan is that sometimes, your plans to visit hershey, pa, home of chocolate and all things awesome, get delayed a couple of weeks due to sickness and stuff and then happen to fall on the first weekend of the world cup. and then suddenly your crazy sports fan husband decides that driving two hours there and back is much too long of a drive for a day trip, despite not having any problem with this a few weeks earlier. and you're a bit confused until the day is instead spent watching an endless stream of soccer games and how are there so many games played in one day?

have you been watching the world cup? is it just me or are there more players scoring on themselves than there probably should be? and did you see that player from uruguay that looked like his jersey had shrunk in the wash and he didn't have time to get a new one before the game?

i can't really complain, though, because in all honesty i do not mind watching sports games. and also the lazy days spent sprawled on the couch while he watches soccer and i read books are probably some of my favorites. plus, i figure that we should savor these types of days while we get them. i can only postpone growing up for so long. one day i will have a stressful career and/or a family (with real live kids) and i will look back on these early years of marriage with nostalgic longing. 

speaking of growing up, i've been doing some research for my dissertation. (sort of. like background information for background information. but hey, it's something.) research makes my brain fuzzy even though i'm pretty sure it's supposed to be making me smarter. that's the whole point of research, isn't it? i have also been burning a lilac candle and my apartment smells heavenly, and i'm just feeling really good about today. you know those days? that are nothing special at all, that are not memorable in the least bit, but that are still really good days? yeah. (i was at walmart this morning and candles were on sale and i've had lilacs on my mind (refer to previous post) and so i obviously bought one. i want to go back and buy five more. usually the candles that are on sale smell like crap, but this one is so pretty. i forgot everything i actually needed to get today, though. oops. i also got a really good smoothie. not from walmart.)

i'm thinking of making brussel sprouts for dinner. you can have a side for a meal, right? i just really don't want anything else. you probably don't care what i eat for dinner anyway. this post has gotten wildly off topic.

you know, maybe it's this candle that's giving me floaty brain syndrome. there's like half an inch or so of liquid wax that just looks so pretty i kind of want to jump into it. candles are so distracting. anyway, i should probably get back to research before i completely lose the ability to be smartish. 

*Exitlude - The Killers

Saturday, June 14, 2014

all i could think about

[one] so i've been stuck on this level in candy crush for months. this is not an exaggeration. i think i got to it in january or february. maaaybe early march. and i cannot for the life of me get past it. i think they should have an option available after you try a level a few hundred times (i usually go through all my lives around twice a day, which means i try the level ten times a day on average, which means i have tried way more than a few hundred times, which means i am pathetic.) that says, "you suck and we feel sorry for you. pay ninety-nine cents to move on." i would totally pay. anyway, this morning i was playing and doing awesomely. like, i really thought i was going to win. i still had twelve moves left and was close to clearing all the jelly and then my phone up and dies on me. out of nowhere. despite being fully charged. and of course when i turned him back on, candy crush just figured i had rage quit or something and counted it as another loss. ugh. way to ruin my life, jasper.

[two] i really like rainbow rowell. the author? i've read everything she's written multiple times despite just discovering her late last year. shortly after i discovered her, her newest book (due out this summer) became available for pre-order. which i obviously did. i have been waiting all year for this book. i really have been. for some reason, though, i have thought it comes out july first. and i planned my summer travels around that, as stupid as that sounds. well, okay, so i didn't really plan it around it but i did happily think for the past three months that the timing was so perfect because her book would come out on the first and i would leave on the third and is there a better way to spend your last days before leaving the country than lost in a book you have looked forward to all year? i think not. but i just found out yesterday that i am an idiot and the book doesn't come out until july eighth and i am so disappointed. it's obviously not the end of the world and my husband can easily just bring the book when he joins me later (because he is not leaving the country with me because he went and grew up and got a job and now has to worry about things like vacation days), but still. i won't properly be able to read it because i will be doing the visiting family thing and then i will come back and do more of the visiting family thing and taking a day to devour a book will probably not be appropriate. gah.

[three] sometimes i think about the way we actually are and the way that we are remembered and the gap between those two people and if it matters at all and which one is more important. (i once started a short story that kind of touched on this that i constantly think about and say i will finish, but three years later and most of it is still in my head. which i guess is better than forgetting about it completely, but still. get your act together, sarah.) anyway, what brought on this latest round of pondering things which probably don't matter much at all in any scheme of things, grand or ungrand, was lilacs. i love lilacs in the way that i love navy blue and the number seven, in a nostalgic eye-rolly phantom limb sort of way. they were my favorite for a long while (all three of those things) because they were my mom's favorites, and growing up i really had no personality. (it was also a case of crippling insecurity and self-doubt and liking things that were valid to like, and who was a better judge of worthiness than my mom, right? sometimes i want to go back to little me and just shake her.) anyway, lilacs are no longer my favorite (they are second, though. and i'm pretty sure it's because i really like them and not just because i used to like them. my favorite flower is sunflowers and daisies because they can both share the number one spot if i say they can), and every time i see them i think of my mom. but, as it turns out, lilacs are not my mom's favorite flower. oops. i found this out last year (possibly the year before) and yet in my head, even though i know they aren't, they are. because they are what i associated with my mom for so long. i don't think i'm making sense anymore, but you get what i'm saying, right? lilacs are not my mom's favorite flower, but i will always remember my mom loving lilacs the most: my mom vs how i remember my mom.

*Landing in London - 3 Doors Down

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

i have written you down, now you will live forever

i am so grateful for the things in my life that allow me to be creative. that's what i'm feeling today as i sit on my couch crocheting and thinking, "hey, maybe crocheting isn't so bad after all." (the list of things i will do to avoid cleaning my apartment is ridiculous.) it's no surprise that i like to write, and sometimes i'm even good at it. i have also mentioned on here a few million times that knitting is one of my most favorite things to do in the whole wide world. (i will never understand the people who choose crocheting over knitting. never.) i take pottery classes and now have a coffee table that is virtually useless because i have nowhere else to put the stuff i make in my tiny apartment. i bake all the time - sometimes with recipes i make up on the spot. i make tshirts when i'm bored. i think nail art is fantastic and try out different designs whenever i get the chance. i have two glue guns. there is a point to this laundry list of activities, i swear.

you see, this blog has become a sort of reference for me. when i want to know when something happened or how something happened or even if something happened, i turn to my blog posts. i can usually find the answer. it's also a place where i come (albeit less frequently than i used to) to gush and rant and ramble about the things that make up my life. the other day, i realized that i failed at both of these. a while ago i baked cookies and decorated them as members of my family. they were pretty awesome. when i went to check when exactly i did this, i found that i hadn't mentioned it on my blog. not much happens in my life, guys, and i'm used to finding these small things on here. in fact, i barely talked about baking at all. or anything really. i post specific pieces of writing, so why should my other creative outlets be neglected?

anyway, i decided that i would take a few posts to talk about some of my favorite projects. partly to have them stored here for when my memory fails me and partly because i have spent the past few days sitting in front of a blank screen wondering what to blog about. here you have project number one:

(this project makes me feel like a jerk. i'm just going to go ahead and let you all know that in advance.)

at one point last summer (i think) i was scrolling through kickstarter projects and stumbled upon a lady who made and sold handmade shirts for kids. they were really cool. i couldn't decide whether or not to back her project, but i decided to get a couple of the shirts for my nephews. when i went to her site, though, i saw that toddler shirts were being sold for forty dollars each, and i am sorry but i am unwilling to spend that much money on a shirt that will only be worn a handful of times before it is outgrown. so i completely stole her idea - like a jerk - and made shirts of my own for my nephews. and then i forgot to back her kickstarter, too. oops. anyway, they are interactive shirts that allow the kids to choose what they want on them (using snaps and buttons!) and were super fun to make (kinda time consuming, though). added bonus: what i would have spent one hundred and sixty dollars on, i got for under thirty. and that includes buying a snap gun. 



space tshirts! the white and yellow stars were made with fabric paint. everything else can be snapped on/off to make the space scene you wanna wear.



sandwich shirts! wear a cheeseburger, pb&j, egg sandwich, or even tomatoes on toast or other random combinations. whatever floats your boat. 

i ended up really liking these and wanted to make more but felt like too much of a jerk to do so. part of me wants to open an etsy store and sell these. the other parts wants to punch me in the face for being a plagiarist. 

*Poet - Bastille

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

i am taking today to write. whether it will be prosetry, novels, dissertations... i'm not sure yet, but words will be coming out of my head and into some semi-permanent format. by the end of the day i will have something that i can pass on to someone and say, "look. i wrote this today. these words were just thoughts this morning, and now look at them. all grown up."

so of course i'm procrastinating on blogger. i mean, what else would you expect from me?

on a related (for once!) note, last night i had a dream that i had published a novel and that was really only one small tiny overlookable part of the dream, but i am going to mention it here because the novel was titled mary had a little lambda. and i dunno about you, but i am really in love with that title. i feel like i now need to write a book about a math nerd or something just so i can use it. maybe a short story. whatever it is, though, has to be good enough to deserve the dorky glory that is that title.

anyway, i am off to write. and at the end of the day i will edit this post to include my favorite line or something of whatever it is i have written. just to prove to the world that i wrote today. that i have thoughts in my head right now that, by the evening, i will be able to look at on paper and say, "they're all grown up."

***EDIT: so i did do a bit of writing. not as much as i was planning on or as i was really hoping for, but there are words that are written down. there are a few paragraphs that give a rough outline of a story that started as an introduction to a character in a blog draft and has kind of been simmering in my head for a while since then slowly developing a plot of sorts. there is also an extra scene in my nano2013novel. and to be perfectly honest, i probably could have written more if i didn't start rereading that. but i remember less of the novel than i thought i did, and if i want to finish it (which i do!) i will have to know what it has now. so cue the read-through. (this was all to say that i don't think i have a favorite line to put here. i guess maybe, "you can't even grow a beard" would be my favorite of the day just because it is kind of ridiculous out of context.)

but anyway, words. they exist now as pixels on a screen and bits in my computer's memory instead of just abstract thoughts in my mind. i can look at them and say fondly, "aww they're all grown up." mind you, they're grown up in the way that a child is grown up on their first day of kindergarten and the day of their sixth grade graduation. the way that means that they have made important strides on the journey of growing but that they still have quite a long way to go. the way that means, i'm proud of you but you're not finished yet. my words have started kindergarten and i just hope that one day they'll make it through high school and college and into the real world. (note to self: stop abandoning elementary students on their way through life.) (note to self number two: stop dragging out analogies.)  

Monday, April 14, 2014

i had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor

i have been feeling not the best lately. hence the break from blogging. (although there are some hastily jotted down thoughts in drafts, like "why are audiobooks so freaking expensive?" and something about books to movie adaptations this year. it's a good year for those, if you like that sort of thing. also, a rant about the phrase "the only thing to fear is fear itself" which you can now read in all its unedited glory:

you know what i never understood? the phrase "the only thing to fear is fear itself." and how that supposedly makes you some super awesome above everyone else human being. but... and maybe i'm understanding this wrong, but wouldn't that really just make you really, really weak? like, if you are afraid of being afraid then doesn't that make you afraid of everything? "people are afraid of spiders. hmm i wonder if i'm afraid of spiders. ahhh me being afraid. i must never see a spider because then i may be afraid of it." and like, you are only brave when you do things in the face of your fears. if you are not afraid of dragons then petting one does not make you brave, it makes you a good pet owner. if you are afraid of fear, how are you even supposed to overcome that? do you get scared? because doesn't that defeat your whole endeavor?)

and the fact that this post has taken me literally over half an hour to write so far (and the majority of it was copy-pasted from a draft) makes me want to take an even longer break.

anyway, the point of this post is to have a post. and also to record for the future that i was alive. that my parents were in CT with my grandma for a while, and that now they're back. that they took a break from CT to spend ten days here with my grandma before going back up. that they brought back boxes of family history that i've been going through, looking at old pictures and marriage certificates and diplomas and phone messages and notes on napkins and craving the stories that go along with them. that's the problem with being a voracious reader who blurs the line between books and reality just a bit too often. you start to need the stories. all of them. i want to be the omniscient narrator that sees everything, from every time, and knows what everyone is thinking, always. i  see a picture of friends on a beach with "junior prom picnic" scribbled on the back and i want to read an entire book about it. i want to know what they were talking about, who took the picture, what day of the week it was. i want to know what they ate, who went to the prom with whom, and what the decorations were like. i want to watch a movie of their lives. i want the stories.

i'm one of those people that could look at old pictures for days without getting bored and listen to my grandmother tell stories for years without getting sick of them, so i'm kind of in my element right now.

if nostalgia was a drug, i'd probably overdose on it.

and really, though, why are audiobooks so expensive? (please don't comment with something about how the voice actors need to be paid now too instead of just the writers and publishers and whoever else which obviously means the price needs to be jacked up because i know that.)

*Photograph - Nickelback 

Thursday, March 27, 2014

there must be fifty ways to leave your lover

so i was going to put this anecdote into a story, but i have no characters to give it to at the moment and no started stories that it would fit with. (not that i have many started stories at all. *sigh.* remember when i used to talk about being a real writer who wrote things?) so i decided instead to put it here. on my blog. and then years from now when you have all forgotten it, i will put it into a story and none of you will remember that a) i already told you this and b) i totally stole the idea from someone else. plus by that time i will be rich and famous and any complaints you have about me will be chalked up to jealousy. (i plan on spending an entire year being completely obnoxious and conceited if i ever get a book published. it will come right after the year i spend gushing excitement and omgicantbelieveitactuallyhappends and right before the year i spend writing out an entire book thanking the people in my life for being the people in my life. (seriously, though, sometimes i am just so grateful for everyone and everything that it's not hard to think that i would/could write a book about it. i've composed entire chapters in my head that revolve solely around strangers on the bus.))

i am getting wildly offtrack. back to the anecdote. 

i spend a lot of time sitting in a student lounge near a bunch of offices. some of that time - the exact amount depends on who is in the office that day - is spent eavesdropping on the faculty members while i "do my work." for a lot of this semester, one person has been sharing stories about her boyfriend. her boyfriend that she was starting to really get tired of for reasons that are not very exciting (or really mine to share) so for the purpose of this blog let's pretend that he was constantly feeding her pet dragon garlic which - aside from making her entire house smell like garlic for days any time it got cold enough for a fire or she craved a roasted marshmallow - was making it impossible for her vampire friends to visit her. every week or so we'd get another story about how he did it again! and she didn't think she could handle any more garlic and why can't he just listen? and everyone would laugh about the boyfriend who sounded like he would fit right in with the husbands in laundry detergent commercials. 

anyway, on monday the dragon owner comes in and starts talking about how her boyfriend's birthday was coming up and they were having a party for him in a few days. they laugh about garlic cakes and vampire party crashers and then someone says, "i thought you were going to break up with him." she answers with, "i am. after his birthday." someone else asks what she got him then, and she says, "a subscription to match.com. i plan on giving it to him after the party."

and if you do not think that that is the funniest way to break up with someone then maybe you should go back and reread it slash imagine the scenario playing out until you do. 

*50 Ways to Leave Your Lover - Paul Simon

Monday, March 24, 2014

the drop dead dream, the Chosen One

this weekend, which was supposed to include me doing some actual work, helping a student (oops), and reading a book that i need to review, somehow ended up including none of those things, and instead was filled with harry potter. it was awesome.

i used to read the series with my brothers when they were younger, but what with me getting married and moving out and my younger brother getting impatient and just reading them on his own, well, it just sort of fizzled out somewhere in the middle of the fourth book. this resulted in one brother having a semi-complete knowledge of the wizarding world (it's amazing how much you forget when you only read the books once) and one having even less than that. (the older one's knowledge of everything post quidditch world cup-ish comes from the lego harry potter video games. you can understand how upsetting that has been for me.)

anyway. i've spent the past few years trying to get the older brother to read the books (which he hasn't) and then finally decided to go the second-best route and just watch the movies.

(completely unrelated side note: i just had to go outside to transfer my mom's and my pottery stuff from the trunk of her car to the trunk of my car and oh my god why the hell is it so cold outside? i thought we were into spring and warm weather and blossoming flowers. my hands are burning. you know that burn-sting feeling from the cold? yeah. and they feel sore all the way down to the bones. i wasn't even out that long. ugh.)

but back to harry potter. a few weeks ago i decided to do a harry potter movie marathon with my brothers because a) they hadn't watched all of the movies which is ridiculous because abc family throws a marathon every three weeks, b) they needed a refresher slash basic education of the world and characters, and c) it's been a while since i had a harry potter marathon despite abc family's broadcasting tendencies mentioned in (a).  the problem with this, though, is that my parents do not know how to marathon, and since we were watching them in their living room, this cut into our fun. it took us about a month to get through the first three movies. (which sounds worse than it was. we were only watching when i visited on sunday and one of the sundays we were unable to watch anything because of some football or soccer or other organized sport thing that i do not remember.) but then my parents left to connecticut and i moved into their living room and my brothers and i were finally able to get through them. my youngest brother was half watching-half playing minecraft up until the deathly hallows movies  because he claimed he had seen them all (though i am almost positive he hadn't), but the older one got really into them. which was awesome.

there was the usual disgruntlement that everyone has after watching a movie adaptation for a book they have read. for example, he was super excited for the quidditch world cup and that was pathetic in the movies. they were both outraged after watching the first movie that they cut out dumbeldore's "nitwit oddment blubber tweak" speech, and after the final one they said, "man, i was really hoping that they were going to put that speech into one of the later movies. they missed a golden opportunity with that." and then of course there were the usual comments that you would expect boys that age to make dealing with butts and other similarly pleasant subjects *rolls eyes*. turns out that my brother is a harry-hermione shipper, but i forgave him for it because of his deep loathing of snape. his hatred for him was beautiful.

i think my favorite comment of his, though, was during the fourth movie when the weasley twins have just dropped out of hogwarts and there are fireworks going off everywhere and the entire student body is in the courtyard cheering them on as they fly away and harry gets the vision of sirius being tortured by voldemort. he groaned and said, "god! whenever anything good happens, he has to make it bad." which i think sums up the series pretty well. (he was a huge fan of harry's, though. liked him way more than i did when i was his age.)

the weekend, though, left me really wanting to reread the series. it's been something ridiculous like two years since i read them last. i was planning on getting to them after finishing the stack of need-to-reads i have, but i may just bump them up to the top of the list.

*Read My Mind - The Killers

Monday, March 17, 2014

a long time ago we used to be friends

i have never really had a problem with mondays. like, i know that they are universally known as the worst day of the week, but aside from the occasional, "ugh i don't want the weekend to end" dread during my school years i never had an issue with them. until now. why is it that the universe is suddenly conspiring to make mondays the worst day of the week? i mean, really. i suddenly find myself relating to garfield in a way i never thought i would. i don't know what it is, but suddenly mondays are the embodiment (can a day embody something?) of everything awful and my usual grit or whatever it is that allows me to get through the rest of my life seems to take off sunday night and saunter in tuesday mornings slightly disheveled and looking like it slept in its clothes all the while acting like it didn't completely abandon me the day before. ugh.

but anyway. that's all of the attention that i am willing to give to mondays until they get their act together. they don't deserve any more words.

instead, let's talk about the fact that i really like to introduce characters. like, i love to sit down to an empty word document or compose blog post box or blank sheet of paper or whatever and start writing out a character. i'll be happily typing out their basic introduction, deciding what kind of narrator they will be, figuring out what their voice sounds like, and then, a few paragraphs in, it gets to the point where it's no longer enough to have a character. i need a plot, too. and then i sit there for a minute, realize that i have nothing for this character - who happens to be quite awesome - to do or talk about, and i stop. they'll be in the middle of running away (though from who/what/where i don't know and please don't ask about a why) or they'll be about to tell you about the really cool thing that happened that day a year ago when they woke up thinking that their life was just normal and boring enough to be a commercial for car insurance and then nothing. i close the document or the notebook or go back to my blogger dashboard and never see these characters again. it's kind of sad, but i have hopes that one day i will go back and write all of their stories. (i'm thinking that in the future i will probably realize that a few of them belong in the same one.) that is my new life goal. 

i think this love of developing characters is the reason that i have so little patience for books that are all plot and no character. like, yes it is great that this massive war is going on and aliens are about to suck this guy's brain out with a straw, but i would care a lot more if the guy wasn't a cardboard character that talks in cliches and i'm told to like. i'm still working on balancing character and plot in my own writing, but that is neither here nor there. 

in other news, i feel like i should document the fact that i watched the veronica mars movie. [it is highly possible that you have little or no interest in veronica mars and will have no idea what i am talking about in the following paragraph. if this is the case, feel free to just stop reading here. you won't miss anything. i promise.] i used to watch it on tv with my sister. then it got cancelled. then years went by with nothing. then i backed the kickstarter for the movie. then i rewatched all of the episodes and fell in love with it even more. (my fangirl capabilities have grown so much in the past seven years. i don't think i was capable of being a true fangirl at the time of its tv airing.) and then i finally watched the movie friday night. (and am currently debating whether i should buy the books coming out if they aren't in the library or save the forty five dollars i have left to spend on books for the year for something else.) i was going to write a whole post about my movie thoughts, but i don't think i will. i will say that the first words out of my mouth when the credits started rolling were, "what the hell, rob thomas?" but i liked the movie more the more i thought about it afterwards. i feel like i need a rewatch to properly assess it. no matter how many times i rewatch it, though, i will never be okay with how they dealt with the piz story line. (and this is coming from a person who watched it on her couch wearing a team logan t-shirt because yes i am a huge dork thanks for noticing. i was also eating marshmallows.) 

*We Used to Be Friends - Dandy Warhols

Saturday, January 25, 2014

giving the academy a rain-check

okay, so. it's common knowledge around here that i like books. and that i think that writing competition shows should be on tv just like cooking competition shows, remodeling competition shows, and who looks prettier competition shows. and since it is award season (is it? i honestly have no idea. is there even an award season or do award shows just kinda happen throughout the entire year? i've never actually watched an award show ever in my entire life. i plan to sometimes, but then i forget. i do enjoy the gif sets that appear after an award show though. anyway, let's just pretend that i know what i'm talking about and that it is awards season, okay?)  i think that books should be awarded right along with movies, tv shows, and music. and yes, i know that books do get awards, but where is their televised glitzy show with a red carpet and readings from the top books of the year and trophies given to the authors? it just doesn't seem fair, if you ask me. so i will be awarding some book-oscars. the nominees are all of the books that i picked up to read last year (you can find the complete list with all of the authors here) because they must have done something right to get picked up, you know?

i'm adapting all of the categories that wikipedia tells me the academy awards use as best as i can. and now, without further ado, i present to you our winners: 

Best character (male) in a leading role (leading role means narrating to me): tobias (allegiant)
Best character (male) in a supporting role: gus (the fault in our stars
Best character (female) in a leading role: cather avery (fangirl)
Best character (female) in a supporting role: reagan (fangirl)
Best children's book: wings of fire: the lost heir
Best short story: life on the refrigerator door (since i finished it in half an hour it counts as a short story)
Best narrating voice: lawrence (when we were romans
Best costume design: the divergent trilogy
Best author: rainbow rowell
Best nonfiction story: discovery of luray caverns 
Best nonfiction short story: climbing everest: tales of triumph and tragedy on the world's highest mountain (this was a library book so i can't tell you which exact story was my actual favorite)
Best editor: it would NOT go to the editor of the tmi series, the divergent series, chose the wrong guy, or the host for sure 
Best story in a foreign location: stolen
Best action story: trash 
Best character descriptions: the host
Best self-published book: off with her heart
Best title: chose the wrong guy, gave him the wrong finger 
Best book: fangirl
Best cover design: the fault in our stars
Best dialog: eleanor and park
Best setting description: stolen
Best world-building: the mortal instruments series (cassandra clare)
Best play: long day's journey into the night
Best poetry collection: teaching my mother how to give birth

this was a lot harder than i thought it would be. i wanted to have ties for almost every category, and the books that i read later in the year were freshest in my mind which was slightly unfair. if i read through the list again, i'd probably change half of them. i would also like to point out that i really  liked the beach street knitting society and yarn club even though it's not bolded in the previous post or the recipient of any of the awards here. i have no idea why because i really enjoyed the book. a lot. 

if you feel like awarding your own books, then let me know who wins. 

*It's Time - Imagine Dragons

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

it's the last day of the year, and i was planning on doing some sort of compilation post or a year in review or something, but i think we all know how blogging plans have been going for me this year. basically, they haven't. also, my brothers are sleeping over and, being tech junkies, i haven't gotten much time to my own computers. i don't mind, though. there's something really awesome about having them sleep over. i'm more "me," when i'm with my siblings, if that makes any sense. like, there is no need to compromise anything or worry about conventions or filters or offending anyone. siblings know the truest form of you, and there is something really great about that. they know every embarrassing moment and all the highs and lows that have filled your entire life. they have all the same little crazy bits that come from growing up in your family and they get things that no one else could ever understand. i'm not one for resolutions, as you may know, but i am one for taking moments to be thankful, and as i look back on this year, i am immensely grateful for my family. 

Thursday, December 26, 2013

give it a try

this is a christmas related post that really actually has little to do with christmas and is coming to you the day after christmas. although, i typed it up on christmas. (four christmases in two sentences.) but i already posted that lovely and pointless post that was sort of about hope but mostly just my way of saying that i have that feeling that something big is going to happen. usually when i have that feeling, nothing happens, but it doesn't make it any less exciting. and i kind of like the fact that i can't quite quell the excitement when i feel it even though i know it's probably just nothing. it's kind of disney-esque, only mostly just inside my head. it's hard to explain.

but anyway. back to christmas. well, sort of.

being muslim, i don't celebrate christmas. (except for those years when my sisters and i were growing up and we did the whole christmas thing every year. the whole nine yards with tree and lights and stockings and christmas music and paper chain countdowns and waking up at dawn to open presents.) i, however, love the christmas season. christmas lights are without a doubt one of my favorite things in the world. there is something about the small colored lights that fill me with magic. i also love christmas music (although it is really annoying when you are trying to sing along to the radio and every singer changes the song just enough to make it sound like you are way out of tune every single time). i also love stocking stuffers. i have this really bad problem with buying stuff that i don't need or want because it is either on sale or a good price. dollar stores and drug stores and the sale aisle of craft stores are my weakness. stocking stuffers fall under that umbrella. but that's neither here nor there.

despite not celebrating christmas, i do have my christmas season (which lasts a little longer than most people's) traditions. like, gingerbread cookies. every year, between the end of thanksgiving and martin luther king (jr.?) day, i have to bake gingerbread men. at least once. and every year i have to watch the santa claus. you know, the tim allen one. (the radio the other night told me that the movie has been out for nineteen years and that made me feel so old. ninteen years guys. i could have raised a child to voting age in that time. i could have raised two children to voting age (given they were born in consecutive years) in that time. there is something about the word consecutive that makes me think of math problems.) i used to watch all of those christmas tv shows (santa, rudolph, frosty, etc) that have been on for generations and are actually pretty terrible and incredibly sexist/racist/generally politically incorrect, but i stopped those a couple of years ago. mostly because i kept forgetting to watch them and time became a lot harder to come by. i also love to go on  drives through neighborhoods to look at christmas lights. my older sister and i used to that a lot during our college years before she up and moved to the other side of the world. my husband just does not see the appeal in it. it's not as fun going alone, and so i opted to skip it this year. sad, i know. this is not the point, either.

(i guess this really has turned into a christmas post.)

but what i really came here to say, though, was that, during my read-through of the blog posts from the last two months, someone mentioned that they had already watched elf twice, and i have never seen elf. not even once. ever. i never even really wanted to. but it is often listed as one of the christmas movies that you have to watch every year, and i'm thinking that maybe i should take the plunge. a different blogger wrote about how she makes chocolates for all of her friends and family for christmas, and i kind of want to try that, too. what other christmastime traditions should i try out while i'm at it?

*Give it a Try - Badfinger

Saturday, November 16, 2013

maybe we're a little different, there's no need to be ashamed

so yesterday was one of those days when, i had been cold for the previous two days and decided not to repeat the same mistake for a third time, so i got like really bundled up. i'm talking about layers and layers under my hoodie and my wannabe ugg boots and the whole shebang. so i go out all prepared to battle the cold and oh my god it was so hot. like, it was beautiful weather, but under all of my layers i was sweating. i go to walmart, regretting my outfit the entire time, and then stop home again to change before school. i go to school with no boots and a significantly lower number of layers and... i was cold the entire rest of the day and night.

in other news, i was talking with someone the other day (like someone who i greatly respect, who has actually done things with her life and has a phd and has traveled extensively) and the subject somehow turned to books. over the past couple of years, i have grown wary of book talk with most people. (which is why so much of it ends up here.) i've just been faced with self-proclaimed book lovers who seem to read for the sole purpose of looking smart. there are the people who will only read philosophy books and books on politics and only foray into novel world for literary fiction. there are the people who simply refuse to read fiction at all because it is somehow beneath them (although, with their nose so far up in the air, it must look like the entire world is beneath them). there are the people who only read the fiction that was written for adults by the "real authors," whatever that means, because everything else is a waste of time and makes them stupid. and then there are the people that will admit that they've read - and *gasp* might have actually liked - young adult fiction in whispered confessions with guilty looks and "don't judge me" ready at the tip of their tongue.

so i was pleasantly surprised when, near the start of this conversation, she told me that the school library (which i was convinced was stocked only with text books and unread dissertations for the past seven years) had a really good adolescent fiction section hidden away that she was steadily reading through. and it was so great to talk with someone who could say that she just read the BFG with no hipster intentions of looking cool without it sounding like she was admitting to murder or to picking her nose in public. it has been a long time since i talked to someone new that read for the stories, for the escape, for meeting new characters and going on new adventures. someone who wrote fanfiction and understood that getting lost in a story - whether it was written for five year olds or five hundred year olds - was the greatest feeling in the world. someone who admitted to liking twilight and seeing the faults in it, who read good books and bad books and loved them all, and it was amazing. i definitely left the conversation with a bit of a high.

now, i know that there are people out there (i know quite a few!) that read like i do. people who may prefer reading ink on paper over pixels but don't judge you as less of a reader for choosing the latter because they understand that the story is what matters, not what's holding it. people that will read literary fiction and young adult and harlequin romances and fantasy and everything in between in the span of a month. people who can appreciate a really well-written book but can enjoy fluff just the same. people who don't care what you think because they'd rather talk to harry than you anyway. it's just getting rarer and rarer for me to meet one in real life. but they're out there, i know, and i hope you all know that you are my favorites.

*Read All About It - Emeli Sande