“Wha d’ya bring grapes for?”

“Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.”

– Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Brothers Karamazov

I recently finished up the third and final season of Broadchurch, a police procedural drama aired originally on iTV in the UK that was then run on BBC America. It stars the incredibly talented David Tennant and Olivia Colman, as well as a bajillion other incredible actors.

If you know me pretty well, you know that I have loved the show from the scraps I could watch during UK-only initial airing of its first season. The dry humour and expressive reactions crack me up and the production value is stunning. The score (Olafur Arnalds!), lighting, writing, acting, directing, cinematography, David Tennant’s hair… all of it is redonkulous. I mean, just LOOK at this gorgeous camerawork:

Comeback Kid

I certainly wasn’t planning on taking an annual break from blogging, but here I am, writing my first post of 2018 in December.  Welcome back, and happy new year!

I graduated from Oglethorpe in May having drafted a novel in three months, and between that project and the nightmare that January turned out to be writing here fell through the cracks.  Since finishing my B.A. I’ve had a series of odd jobs, competed in my first #NaNoWriMo, and bought my first car.  I traveled to Kentucky, Virginia, Nashville, Vancouver and Seattle in 2018, & I’m headed overseas in January!

The Freedom Giver

“Artists of a large and wholesome vitality get rid of their art easily, as they breathe easily or perspire easily. But in artists of less force, the thing becomes a pressure, and produces a definite pain, which is called the artistic temperament.” – G.K. Chesterton

spring runs from mountain to mountain
igniting the snow with the dawn
and the snow pours down its sides
gushing like crystal wax
ahead of the green & gold
lifting up its voice
in echo

//covered in gold (or, a library older than light)

(started here)//for all the burdened who chase the Son

the light was exhausted from shining.  volcanic air had thrown so much dust and debris and hurt in its face as it rose, and refused to let more than weak strugglings of light reach the ground in mexico.  it cheered up when it saw georgia, but choked on the atlanta air and pollen. finally, it stumbled into the broad, comforting arms of a library.  the struggled through the window, even though the sky was finally clear again, and fell into the library’s lap with all the exhaustion of a child.

‘i need rest,’ the light said.

‘then rest until the morning, when you are new,’ said the library, and stroked its hair.

Breaking Broken

Last night I saw a student production of The Tempest.

I’d never read the play, but knew it featured a shipwreck and a character named Ariel, as well as (in this case) a circus interpretation.  Usually, I try to read the play first: my synapses take a while to sync with the nuances of Shakespeare’s words.  But, as I did not have a chance to read the play beforehand, I sat back and tried to track the flow of the narrative instead.

At first, I hated Prospero.

Interview: Of Darling Wrens

You know how there are some people you talk with for a few moments, and you inexplicably feel like you’ve known them all their lives?  That’s pretty much how my friendship with Annie Hawthorne (my petname for her is Cinthy, since she reminds me of hyacinth flowers) started: we clicked right off the bat.  Since then, we’ve exchanged writing and talked on the phone, I’ve adopted her as my dragonkeeper, and we ramble on about all sorts of things.  And now, at long last, she’s launched a blog!  EEEEEEEE!  I’m delighted to be able to introduce her to you guys today, and to point you to a lovely new site soon to be filled with perusals and things. ^_^  So, without further ado, read the interview and bookmark her blog!

chasing the glass

“What would it look like for you to walk away from the opinions of people who don’t see the dream?”

How do you stop caring about other people’s opinions? Especially when they’re wrong?  How do you shut off feelings of frustration when people don’t understand you and your desires?

When I was 15, I had the start of a hellish year.  I grew up fast, in some ways.  I had precious relationships ripped from me, relationships all the more precious because they were so rare in my younger years, and the aftermath was raw.

And somehow that fire burned my vision.  I saw so much more clearly.  I started to see people as people, as flawed, tragic, beautiful beings living in a story.

207A (This is My Thesis)

A spontaneously drafted short story from the beginning of freshman year, when I imagined someone falling in love with someone they had never seen.  The rest is utterly imaginary for the most part: although a few elements are drawn from reality, I’m pretty sure no one has fallen in love with my voice.  Also, photo taken by my incredibly talented friend Sarah.  Enjoy.

~::~

I was a Senior that year in suite 207, with three roommates.  The lobby and stairwell were always blank and dilapidated, unlike all the pieces of paper you filled to be allowed into the upperclassmen housing.

Room 207A, and there were two tiny holes in the concrete beneath my linoleum floor.

The studious freshmen applied for the first floor in this dorm, the quieter freshmen, with headphones and double majors.

That’s why it was so funny that I could hear you.

seen:

I wish I could stare at the falling stars
and weigh every 6-point diadem
every finite edge and
curve
sharpened in my visage
without the galaxy pouring into my head
without the demanding of answers
without the cosmos of dust motes

Pages in a College Book

Creative projects are hard.

Campus Movie Fest ends tonight.  The announcements and premiere are in a week.  I wrote a lot of the script and helped with film shoots and editing whenever I could.  I was extremely happy running around on a film set.  Seriously.  I hit that moment where I went, “OH, so THIS is my future job!”  (And all you crazy people who cheer me on may be permitted a fond smirk here.)