Tag Archives: Love

W is for West



It’s April, and that means it’s time for the A to Z challenge. I really must be a glutton for punishment; April is my last month of college, and I’m still an amateur blogger, but I must say, I’m looking forward to the challenge. I’m going to be writing short little blurbs about some retired characters from my DISTANT past up until recently; all of them are failed concepts. Part of me is hoping that writing about these characters will inspire me…perhaps to write more during the summer when school is out.

“No one would surrender to the Dread Pirate Westley.”
The Princess Bride

West Braveheart. What a name! Believe it or not, his name is supposed to be a little (or a lot) melodramatic. His real name is Wesley Maddox, not exactly something that makes you quake and tremble, and Captain Braveheart has a reputation to uphold. He’s the captain of the Blood Diamond whose crew is known for wrecking havoc upon the general populace. Of course it’s just your usual pillaging and stealing almost exclusively from the rich. They don’t care much for preying on the common folk. Even though West’s crew is a little too rambunctious at times, his reputation keeps them in check. Rumor has it that he drinks the blood of his enemies, and when he can’t get enough of that, he’ll turn on his friends depending on the time of day and position of the moon. Basically, he’s a ticking time bomb.

But Wesley? He fell in love with a servant girl and after a few months of playing around with her found out that he was going to be a father. He stuck around for a few years, leaving the Blood Diamond in the hands of his first mate, Rory. He was living a happy life at first (even if his girlfriend’s boss was a good for nothing rich kid) until he caused a little bit of trouble in the house. (Let’s just say the boss wasn’t a fan of the burly loudmouth that frequented the servants’ quarters.) The lady’s boss wanted him gone, and Wesley decided to flee for the benefit of his girl. He promised to return, but did he? No. As a result, his son grew up without a father and hated him for never being around. Throughout the course of West’s story, he searches for his son and tries to earn his forgiveness without ever revealing his true identity.

I’ve always liked West a great deal. He’s a combination of every pirate movie/book I’ve ever seen/read, but he still seems fairly unique. At one point, I started developing his crew more, and it made me love him even more! I think I’ll most definitely return to him and write about his adventures sometime soon. He sort of learns how to be a father through a surrogate son.

Guys. I’m almost done with this. I’m so proud of myself. I’ve been keeping up with this. I have three more days. THREE MORE.



A (Not So) Subtle Change



No. You’re not going blind. I had some free time today and decided to work on the layout of my blog. I didn’t like how my previous theme had a hidden sidebar. You’ll notice that I’ve attached my Goodreads account as well as a brand new Twitter! (You’ll have to be patient with me. I haven’t used Twitter since…the beginning of high school really.) If you’d like to follow me, I’ll be sure to post updates as often as I can!

As I mentioned last week, I had to go on hiatus because it’s that time of year for sororities. Yes. Recruitment. (As a result, this post will probably be a bit shorter than my others.) It’s a magically frustrating week full of long nights, crafting, and tears for everyone involved. Imagine a piece of coal turning into a diamond. That’s exactly what it feels like by time you get out of it.

You’ve probably never heard of my sorority. I’m a Chi O. No. Not Chi Omega. That’s a national sorority. Chi Omicron. We’re a local sorority, the only group of Chi Omicrons in the world. (At least I like to think so.) We’ll be celebrating our 5th birthday this year, something I’m in charge of planning. Our colors are black, white and robin’s egg blue. Our symbols include the lily, moonstone, and jackalope. (Yes. The jackalope.) And our motto is: Altruism, Diversity, and Fortitude. 

I want to say that joining Chi O changed my life, but I can’t say for certain what my life would have been like if I had never joined a sorority at all. Chi O didn’t pull me out of a gutter, clean me up, and teach me how to be altruistic. I’m confident that I could have been a strong, independent woman without ever joining a sorority at all. In fact, I’ve always been that way. I like to do things on my own. I like to be alone. In fact, I’m alone right now, taking the day off from people and noise and life. I’m perfectly content with my pile of homework, Law and Order: SVU, and blog.

But joining Chi O did teach me that I’m much stronger when I’m not alone, that it’s all right to ask for help. I remember one day in 2013 when I trudged into my sorority’s apartment for some reason. I was hardly ever in there as it was. I spent my free time buried in my books. (I still do that.) I do remember that I was in a terrible mood. It had been a long day with one thing right after the other, and finally, everything had worn me down. I sat on the apartment’s sofa and sobbed. Two of the girls living on the bottom floor, Ariel and Konnie, heard me. I don’t think they even asked what was wrong. But Konnie brought me medicine for my headache, and Ariel spent the next ten minutes darting to and from her room bringing me things from her “stash” of feel-better items. I left with tea, an apple, a candle…

I don’t like people to see me cry, but I know I can cry around my sisters. They don’t ask what’s wrong because they know I don’t like to talk about it. They don’t judge me for crying because I’ve seen them cry too. They know that I’m a finicky perfectionist control freak. They know I spend my Saturday nights studying instead of partying. They also know that I’m a terrible crafter and an awkward orator. But they keep me around anyway.

Through all the catastrophes, shenanigans, apartment messes, tears, and laughter, it’s been a pretty great ride. I’ve realized my flaws in these past few years, and my sisters have taught me that those flaws don’t have to be flaws. And for that, I’m eternally grateful. ~XO


30 Day Writing Challenge – Day 25


I’m getting closer and closer to the end of this. I can feel it.

Think of any word. Search it on Google images. Write about something inspired by the 11th image.

A lot of words bounced around in my head when I first read this prompt. I decided to eliminate nouns and go for an adjective instead. I honestly had no idea what I would get, and I’m pleasantly surprised. (And as a disclaimer, it’s nearing midnight here… I’m quite tired and my writing my suffer, but I want to get this posted!)

Living has to be one of the most difficult things in existence. Think about it. If we didn’t live, we wouldn’t have any trouble. We wouldn’t have troublesome thoughts. We wouldn’t have physical pain. We wouldn’t have to work our butts off to stay alive. I can’t be the only one who has a new trouble almost every single day. Whether it’s an energetic freshman crushing my toe with a metal chair or a professor going out of her way to make my life miserable, my troubles pile on top of me until I can’t move. They crush me where I stand, and that’s when life likes to kick me while I’m down. Sickness. Family trouble. School problems. Friend drama.

It never ends.

Life didn’t seem half as difficult when I was a kid. For example, I didn’t even realize I was a victim of bullying until someone pointed it out. I always shot that Ezekiel kid a smile when he called me “Four-Eyes,” thinking it was a pretty cool nickname. Ignorance is bliss, I suppose. During recess, I remember munching on the little dandelion seeds without a care in the world until a teacher came to tell me to stop eating the plants. But I still played with them. There was something fun about blowing on them and watching all the little puffs disappear in the wind. I’d make my wish. I’d believe it with all my heart. I’d laugh at the guy who tried to throw dirt clods at me. I’d look up at the sky and count the birds.

If everyone has as much trouble as I do with this life thing, perhaps we can come up with a medicine for the daily aches and pains.  Tell someone they’re beautiful, special, loved, wonderful… Even if you don’t think they need it, perhaps they’ll save that memory for when they do. Look a customer in the eyes. Smile a genuine smile. Buy the student madly typing away on his computer a coffee, even a small one. Kindness is a chain reaction that when done right, becomes this powerful force that not even life can conquer.

So if anyone’s out there who needs a little encouragement, just know that a lanky, awkward, wannabe ginger blogger thinks you can overcome your obstacle. I’ve overcome several myself. But know that life is meant to be hard. If it were easy, it wouldn’t be worth living. If getting to Japan were easy, I’d have done it a dozen times already, and I wouldn’t appreciate what I have right now.

But maybe next time it seems like too much, imagine a dandelion. Blow all your troubles away. Start over.

You can do it.

Now for a little game. If you can guess what the word I chose was, I’ll give you a cookie. (Or I could at least mention you in my next post.)

30 Day Writing Challenge – Day 19


Discuss your first love.

I’m absolutely, positively uncomfortable talking about my love life because well frankly, it doesn’t exist. I don’t know what love feels like. I’ve felt…infatuation before. It’s this brief period of bliss, but for some reason, it doesn’t last. I can pretend, but why should I have to pretend? I’ve felt the pressure time and time again to fall in love. I’m getting older. I’ll be 21 soon. I’ve seen people have my age find more meaningful relationships. By time someone gets to be 20, they’re supposed to have had a few broken hearts. They should have jumped around from person to person and found out what they want in a man. For that reason, I feel as if I’m not living my life right.

I grew up an ugly duckling. Pudgy, bespectacled, awkward… I stayed that way all the way up into high school. I never turned heads of any sort. I never cared well…until my little sister (who was 3 years younger than me) did. Despite being a major tomboy who shaved off most of her hair at one point, she still gathered male attention. I thought I had done everything right. I was feminine, quiet, tried to be kind… But still I didn’t look like other girls. Even when puberty hit, I still had short hair. I dressed modestly. I valued my studies more than my social life. My mom said I just intimidated guys. So I pretended I wasn’t smart. I hid my test grades in glass. I pretended not to know answers. You know what? It still didn’t work.

I have dated a few times, but I’m really not too comfortable discussing them in-depth. I will say that in my desperate attempt to find my first love, I lost myself a bit. Since realizing this, I’ve reverted back to my original self: bespectacled, awkward, and scholarly. When love comes, it comes. I’m sure it will feel wonderful when it does come around.

Until then, my first “love” must be my education. It’s always been first in my life. My studies almost always come before my social life or anything else. Maybe that’s why I’m intimidating?

30 Day Writing Challenge – Day 6


This is me trying to handle life.

Five ways to win your heart.

Romance is a difficult subject for me because generally I’m bad at it. I don’t know how to do it, and part of that comes from the fact that I keep myself very detached from the world around me. It’s difficult to make meaningful relationships because I want to be independent all the time. It’s difficult to think of someone being there to carry some of my burden when I clearly just want to drag all of it through the mud myself.

For this challenge I could take the easy way out and joke about it. “Be Josh Groban! That’s how you win my heart!” But then I’m cheating myself. I’m not reflecting on who I am and what I want from a soulmate. So…here I go. I’m going to be completely honest about how any man could win my heart.

1.) My ideal man loves God.

This is number one. My pastor said once that when he married his wife the only three things they had in common were, “Mexican food, the color blue, and their love for God.” When it comes to love, I look towards the greatest love story ever written, and at the moment, I’m re-learning what it means to love and be loved. However, I struggle with my faith, with life, and with a plethora of other things on a daily basis. I’m a huge worrier, and even though I want to be a leader all the time, I know I can’t be. If a man loves God with all his heart, I know that he can be a leader for me when times are rough. And I hope I can provide him with the same support.

2.) Cursing is a no-no.

I really hate cursing, but I can tolerate it. People are free to speak however they wish, but I for one do not want to curse, and I certainly don’t want someone I live with to curse. People say that sometimes there is no other way to express (insert extreme emotion here) than with a curse word. But language is a beautiful thing. I promise you that there are thousands of ways to express your frustration, sadness, or excitement without lumping it all together under the f-bomb. I’ve realized that I can find a guy unbelievably attractive, but the moment he curses, the veil is broken. It’s a little unfortunate.

3.) He should understand my lack of skill (Who am I kidding? It’s called awkwardness!) in romance.

Like I said, I’m bad at romance. I’m not good at expressing myself through physical means. I’m the type of person who likes to leave a little note about how much I appreciate someone instead of hugging that person from behind. I’ll go off on my own when I’m feeling sad, so no one will see me cry because honestly, people would make me feel worse. I don’t want someone to constantly dote over me. I want a chance to be independent. I suppose it’s a lot to ask for someone to be able to tell when I do or don’t want attention. (But I’m kind of like a cat and people tolerate them.) I suppose that’s something you figure out after you get to know someone. Patience. Patience is a good word for this situation.

4.) He needs to be creative.

In everything. I love a creative mind that’s constantly thinking of new ways to approach a relationship. Why go to the movies when you can spend the evening cooking dinner together? Why not go on a spontaneous car ride instead of sitting in a stuffy café somewhere? Build a pillow fort, go give meals to the homeless, have a video game tournament… I love surprises. (I also hate surprises, but that’s because I’m complicated.)

5.) I want him to look for more than just intimacy from me.

I’m a little traditional. I want my relationship to be meaningful. I want someone who enters a relationship thinking, “This could be the one” instead of, “I hope I get lucky tonight or next week or in a few months.” I want someone to look forward to more than just the first kiss or the first “time.” I want them to look at me and think, “I want to know every inch of her mind and heart.” I don’t care if they think I’m beautiful. Trust me, if they stick around, they’ll see me in the morning with drool dried on my face and my hair crazier than Gene Wilder’s . That’s. Not. Pretty. They’ll watch that semi-human creature dragging itself to the kitchen for coffee and think, “Gosh. She’s a dork, but she’s my dork.” And then I hope they help me make coffee because I’m useless unless I have a little caffeine in my system.

6.) As a bonus, if you can be Josh Groban…or are Josh Groban, that would be wonderful.

(It had to be done.)