NYG: Up My Short Story Game

I don't think I'm particularly good at short stories.

I feel like I've been hearing quite a bit about them recently from a plethora of different authors. Most notably, I keep hearing about them from Stephen King and Neil Gaiman. (Though I've also been listening a lot to First Draft, which is a really cool podcast where Sarah Enni interviews YA authors, and a lot of them talk about short stories as well.)

I used to write short stories when I was younger, which means most of them weren't very good at all. I suppose they were good enough to get by when it came to class assignments, but I remember few, if any. The only one I can really remember is one I wrote in ninth grade about a girl getting hit by a car just before the boy who liked her could ask her out.

I was a fairly melodramatic teenager.

I don't think my writing started to resemble anything I would call "good" until I discovered fan fiction. Fan fiction was an awesome creative avenue for me. It helped me write fun stuff in worlds that were already created, with plenty of characters who already had their own backstories. I could change whatever I wanted and I got some pretty good writing advice too. If you look at my first fan fiction story compared to my more recent ones, you can see a huge difference. (Here's a link to my Fan Fiction profile, if you really want to take a look: Kirsten Erin. Don't judge me! :P) Writers are always saying that the best way to improve is to write and they are so correct. (I could go on and on about this, but I'll spare you that diatribe for now.)

I'm now working on trying to write a novel, but I would also like to hone my short story game. It's a part of the craft that I think I could do well at if I really gave myself the chance. I think my biggest problem is that I get attached to characters and want to stick with them. Thus, I'm more inclined to writing books than short stories.

I don't know how I'll make this a goal, other than just setting aside some time to sit down and write a story other than the one in my manuscript and see how it goes. It would be nice to have some shorter bits of fiction I could show and maybe, if I feel I'm doing well at it, be able to send out for contests or submission in magazines or journals. That would be pretty freaking cool.

NYG: Clean That Shit

You know you're getting older when "Create a better cleaning routine for apartment" ends up on your New Year's Resolution, but what can you do?

As a kid, my mom used to tell me that the reason I had so much trouble cleaning my room was because I was a perfectionist. That may sound strange to those of you who only associate that with neat-freaks, but I do think there's something to it. She would explain it this way: I didn't want to clean my room unless I knew I could make it perfect. Therefore, I would put it off all the time until it became this insurmountable task that I then avoided because it was way too big for me to tackle all in one go.

I found this to be pretty accurate. I love a clean room and usually, once I really get myself going, I can make everything fairly perfect. And once I get it clean, it usually stays clean for a while. At least a week or two. But then I get distracted with work, school, and writing. Before I know it, one day of skipping the dishes turns into a week of skipping dishes. One pair of clothes that I left on the bathroom floor morphs into my entire closet on my bathroom floor. The package I opened and set aside turns into a mountain of boxes from packages that I need to break down or get rid of.

So this year, I made "Create a better cleaning routine for apartment" a New Year's Resolution. Yes, this is one of the ones that actually made the list. I've learned over the past year that though I like to think I'm very free-spirited, routines are actually really good for me. They help me stay on top of things and really boost my productivity. This can most easily be seen in my writing schedule over the last few months. I started making writing an integral part of my morning and I found myself spending more and more time getting it done and making progress on the book I'm trying to write. While working a part-time retail job isn't exactly conducive to creating routines in my life, I try to schedule more of it now, because it gives me purpose and keeps me from aimlessly wasting time that could be spent working on something worthwhile.

I intend to apply this to cleaning by starting to set aside time for specific tasks. For instance, I will be picking a day (with a back up day in case I work) for laundry each week. I will work on getting myself to consistently do dishes every morning and scooping the cat litter every other day. I want to start setting aside time every other week in order to vacuum and sweep the entire apartment.

This will be difficult for me, but I think it'll be good. Plus, then I won't turn off the lights at night and have to worry about stepping on a pair of knitting needles on the way back to my bed in the dark.

NYG: Get My First Rejection Letter

This is a picture I took right after I printed out Draft #1

For about the last six months, I have been working hard on a manuscript for a YA novel I've been trying to write. It's fantasy and one I've had jumping around in my head for a while now. Finally, I sat down and got to it. It's had a lot of ups and downs. If you follow me on Twitter or Instagram, you've likely heard about it. I've been working steadily, trying to up my word count each day or time spent working on it. I've posted a few pictures of the manuscript itself when it was particularly thick and kept myself accountable by marking how much time I spend on it each month and uploading it to my Instagram to show how I've improved or declined since the previous month.

Like with pretty much anything I've ever written, it goes through stages of my loving it and hating it, but I haven't given up yet and I'm getting to the point where I can see the end in sight. (Though it will be part of a series, so it won't be quite the end.)

It's really exciting for me to finally have a manuscript that I haven't given up on and that I feel might be going somewhere. I'm pursuing my dream and that makes me so incredibly happy. I love it.

At the rate I'm going right now, I think I will have the manuscript complete sometime around May and hopefully ready to be sent out by the end of the summer. Let me repeat: THIS IS INCREDIBLY EXCITING FOR ME.

Obviously, part of this resolution is to finish it and get it ready to be sent to agents and publishers, but my specific goal here is to "Get my first rejection letter." That may sound morbid and/or depressing for those of you who aren't familiar with the publishing industry, but in my mind, I think it's a pretty positive goal. It would be naive for me to think that the first person who reads it is going to hold it up and say, "This is it! This is the book!" I mean, J.K. Rowling sent out the first Harry Potter book to 12 publishers who said, "No thanks!" (Man, I bet they're still kicking themselves for that.)

So my goal for 2015 is to get my first rejection letter. That means, I'll have finished the manuscript, sent it to a few close friends to get opinions, edited the thing entirely, hopefully have more concrete plans for how many books will be in the series, and have sent it out to at least one agent. Even if no one picks it up, this will be a huge milestone in my writing career and I will be happy with that.

And who knows, in a few years you could be settling in to read about the adventures of Maya, Jace, and Alice, all because this was my goal this year. ;)

NYG: Read More!

This is NOT my drawing. I got it off
Pinterest. Not sure if this is the artist,
but here's a link to the Tumblr it was
pinned from (x)

Last year, I read 106 books.


I had spent the last four years trying to work my way to 100 and I finally reached it. I won't talk about that much now, because I've already posted about it on Novel Attraction (Goodbye 2014. Hello, 2015!).

This year, my goal is going to be 120 books.

Now that I've officially completed my goal of reaching 100 books in one year, I was a little hesitant to up the read count. After all, there's only so many books a person can read and I foresee 2015 being a hectic year. However, I'm always up for a good challenge and it's not like I'm going to beat myself up if I don't make it. If I do it, great! If not, I'll try again next year.

Reading is my favorite pastime and has been for as long as I can remember. It is also a major part of my trade. I want to be an author myself and the best way to get better at writing is to WRITE and to READ. So I have to keep striving to do more and to learn more. This is an excellent and fun way to do that.

NYG: Start Blogging More

Since I pretty much gave this resolution away in my announcement post for the series, I figured I would start with this one. 

In 2015, I want to start blogging more.

2014 wasn't a great year for my consistency in blogging. I did 18 posts on my book blog, Novel Attraction, (most of which were posted in the last few days of December); and a paltry 7 posts on this one. I would like to blame this on moving to Seattle and all the challenges that came with getting settled in a new city, but that really only accounts for the first few months after I moved. Honestly, I've just been lazy. 

I love blogging. I love sharing little tidbits of my life and I love writing book reviews. I didn't keep up with it last year because it didn't take priority, but this year I'll do my best to keep it high on the list. I'm not promising a post every week or even necessarily every month, but I'm promising effort, which is really all I can give at the moment. 

2015 looks like it's going to be a busy year for me and I want to share that with you, so hopefully we'll see a little more of each other in the months to come.

New Year's Goals: A Blog Series

My New Year's Kiss was clearly better than yours.
(This pic makes me burst out laughing every time I see it.)

New Year's Eve/Day is one of my favorite holidays. I'm a big fan of new beginnings and blank slates. I love lists and making goals for the future. Every new year, I find myself eager to see what's ahead of me and happy to step into it. It's one of the few times I really feel like an optimist.

Last year, I made five New Year's Resolutions and I completed four out of five of them. I moved to Seattle, I went back to college, I read over 100 books. Though I didn't exactly write 1,000 words every day of the year, I did up my word count/time spent writing each day significantly in 2014. In December alone, I spent 38.75 hours working on my current Work in Progress. The only resolution I didn't make any headway on was Be more forward, which was essentially a Learn how to flirt kind of resolution. Unfortunately, I am inept at that as ever.

This year, I have made a list of 10 Resolutions in my journal, but I'm not going to post them all at once the way I normally would. I have a different plan in mind. Instead of having an intensely long post on those ten resolutions that you'll probably just skim anyway, I'm going to do a bit of a blog series. 

For the month of January, I will be putting out small blog posts on things I would like to get better at or work on in 2015. This will include, but will not be limited to, my actual New Year's Resolutions. I think there are a lot of things I would like to get better at that I won't necessarily make a resolution. There are plenty of small things that are more like reminders to myself than anything else, but I think they're worth mentioning. 

So, let's see where this goes. I think it will help me focus on what I want in the new year and hopefully inspire you to see where you would like to go. Maybe you'll see some stuff you want to work on too. Either way, it'll get me blogging more, which I miss doing and would like to start up again. (And yes, blogging more will be the topic of one of those posts you'll be seeing this month.)

Well, that's all for today. I'll see you soon with the first post!

A (Platonic) Love Letter to Faith Erin Hicks

Dear Faith (and other inspiring creators like you),

I'm writing this open letter because I've tried to say this in a tweet and there's just not enough room. So I figured a blog post gave me enough space to say what I need to say.

I'm an aspiring author. I've wanted to write books since I was old enough to read. That's still my dream.  In particular, I want to write Young Adult books. (Side note: Congratulations on writing one of your own. I'm sure it is amazing.) Like I said, books and writing have always been my passion. But I'm also a procrastinator. And, as I'm sure you are well aware, just because we love to do something doesn't mean that it comes easily to us. It's hard work reaching your dreams and I'm reminded of that on a daily basis.

So why am I writing this? To thank you.

Thank you for all of the amazing artwork you create. Thank you for helping shape stories that resonate with their readers and cultivate imaginations. Thank you for working your ass off bringing beauty into the world. (And thank you for writing a comic that made me want to ship Suki and Sokka, though I will go down with my Toph/Sokka ship.) But I want to thank you specifically for working hard every day on your comics and for tweeting about that.

Reminded today how little justice there is in the real world. My small comfort is to make comics where bad guys get what's coming to them.
— Faith Erin Hicks (@faitherinhicks) November 14, 2014

It feels like a small thing, especially in the face of all the other awesome things you've been busy accomplishing. I mean, you got an Eisner for Superhero Girl this year, and here I am thanking you for tweeting about your work.

Two hours later, I finally have supper cooking. Annoying things that distract me from making comics: 1) Sleep 2) Eating
— Faith Erin Hicks (@faitherinhicks) November 14, 2014

But I do want to thank you for those tweets. You tweet quite a bit about your daily struggle with comics, about how you love it but never have as much time as you want to work on it. You tweet about how you wish sleeping and eating didn't get in the way of your creating and about how you hate having to turn things down because there just isn't time for you to draw everything. You tweet about how you wrote a novel during your airport visits because you're drawing comics the rest of the time, but you can't bring your Cintiq to the airport.

And that inspires me. It reminds me that writing is what I love. Writing is my drawing. (Drawing pisses me off too much to be my actual drawing. It's not fun for me, it's just frustrating.) Seeing how dedicated you are to what you love, how dedicated you are to your dream job, reminds me just how much I want my own dream job . . . and I can't get there if I don't have that kind of dedication that makes me write until my hands cramp up and my brain gives out. I can't get there if I don't make myself sit down and write every day. I can't share my stories with the world if I don't ever get to typing.

If you want to make comics your life's work, make 'em your life's work. You have many years. You're not an athlete. Draw into your 90s.
— Faith Erin Hicks (@faitherinhicks) November 11, 2014

So thank you, Faith, for reminding me with your tweets and your dedication that we have to work for our dreams and that it's a pleasure to run after them. It's hard and exhausting sometimes, but it's totally worth it if you're willing to go the extra mile.

I'll stop writing this now and get back to revising my actual work in progress and you can go back to drawing more comics instead of reading this rambling love letter from a twenty-something girl in Seattle who's still sitting at her work table in her pajamas.

Thanks again,
Kirsten Erin

Arrow: Let the MEN Handle This

*This post contains spoilers for the Season 1 Finale of Arrow, just in case I'm not the last one to have finally gotten around to watching it.

     I literally just finished watching season 1 of Arrow after marathoning it all day, so I may not be terribly coherent in this irritated review of the finale, but hear me out, okay? I really like Arrow. I mean, what's not to like? It's Green Arrow, aka Oliver Queen, who happens to be one of the many DC Comics heroes that I have been in love with since early adolescence. It's no secret that I'm a DC Comics fangirl, so it shouldn't be any surprise that I'm really enjoying this show.

     However, I have a pretty big problem with the way the women are treated in the season finale. Essentially, how Laurel, Thea, and most glaringly Felicity are told, "Sure, you could help, but you're girls. Go hide and be safe while the boys handle this."

     I mean, sure it's great that these men are so set on protecting their friends. I would be fine with it if this applied to their male friends too. I mean, seriously! In Felicity's case, she literally volunteers to diffuse the bomb that only she knows how to diffuse and Oliver vetoes it immediately. He had no trouble when Diggle was going to diffuse it. In fact, instead of letting the girl do it, he calls in Officer Lance to do it instead while she talks him through it.

     Thea risks life and limb to go to the Glades and save Roy, literally making her appearance there by hitting a guy upside the head with a glass bottle who was pointing a gun at Roy. Then, when some others need help, Roy tells her he can't let her stay there and help him help them. He tells her to run and she does, making her entire trip worthless and leaving Roy to help the people dying in the bus.

     Laurel's storyline in the finale is the least troublesome, though I honestly still can't figure out why she was in the Glades anyway after literally everyone told her to stay out. Her father begs her to get out because he thinks he'll be going under with the disaster, so I can't find too much fault with her ordeal.

     It just infuriated me watching these extremely capable women treated as something fragile and precious that couldn't handle saving the city like the menfolk. The men, of course, can risk their lives without a question. Oliver doesn't think twice about risking his own life, agrees to let Diggle come with him only after remembering Officer Lance could help, and conscripts Officer Lance knowing full well that he could easily die going in for Felicity.

     So as much as I wanted to, I really couldn't enjoy the finale of Season 1. I expected better of the creators, especially ones that created such dynamic women that I was really enjoying up to that point. Here's to hoping Season 2 rights those wrongs and lets these women reach their real potential.

Why I'm Not in the Fashion Industry

     When I moved to Seattle a little over six months ago, I applied just about everywhere in hopes of landing a job, even jobs I knew would be fools to hire me. One such company was Urban Outfitters (yes, I know now that they are quite literally the devil, but I had forgotten in my panic over being unemployed). They somehow made the mistake of brining me in for an interview. They told me to wear something I would wear to work and I wore jeans (I KNOW. I hired people at my last job and I know wearing jeans was the stupidest idea ever) and a cute black top. When I walk in, the three other girls being interviewed looked like they had just stepped out of a magazine. I knew then that I didn't have the job.
     It got worse when the interview started. One of the girls had studied fashion design in Paris. She was interviewing because she wanted to work her way into fashion design from the bottom. Then the interviewer asked us who our style icon was. Everyone went into such depth and immediately had someone that came to mind. The cute girl in the polka dot dress said Zooey Deschanel. I have no idea who the other people were. I bullshitted my way through by claiming I got style tips from friends, which the amateur fashion designer used to save my ass by marveling over how helpful "street fashion" is. Obviously, I didn't get the job.
     Anyway, I told that story because I was thinking today about my strange fashion choices and how much I honestly amuse myself with how I dress. Because, generally speaking, I don't give a flying fuck what I wear. So I tweeted about it:

Just in case anyone's wondering why I'm not in the fashion industry, my favorite "fall fashion" is wearing sweatshirts as shirts. #prostatus
— Kirsten Erin (@KirssyRen) September 29, 2014

It got me thinking about other silly reasons I'm not in fashion design and I decided to make a list of a few of them here. Without further ado, here are the top five reasons I'm not in fashion design:

1. Sweatshirt Shirts
     Obviously, I already talked about this, but it has to make the list nonetheless. I love wearing sweatshirts as shirts. They're so damn comfy and warm! I'm currently wearing my "Books Turn Muggles Into Wizards" Harry Potter Alliance sweatshirt as a shirt (which are sold by DFTBA Records). If I owned more sweatshirts, this would be a main staple of my wardrobe. Unfortunately, I only have about four, so I can't. Maybe I should add more sweatshirts to my Christmas Wish List . . .

2. Shoes
     I horrify my best friend on a daily basis (who is a manager at an Old Navy in Texas) on a daily basis by my sheer disregard for footwear. I've never been much of a shoe person, even when I tried. At this point, I have five pairs of shoes: 1 pair of DC Comics Flash Converse high tops, 1 pair of DC Comics Batman & Robin Converse high tops, 1 pair of light brown boots from Target that have crochet flowers on the side, 1 pair of sandals (also from Target), and a pair of grey and pink tennis shoes I bought at Ross.  I find shoes irritating and generally ill-fitting. When giving the option, I will generally always choose the sandals, because they're the fastest to put on. This includes rainy days like today, in which I'm wearing a sweatshirt, jeans, and sandals . . . like a crazy person.

3. Nerd Merch
     I am a firm believer in the fact that if you have to purchase something, you should always try to get it in the nerdiest version possible. I like repping the things I'm into. I'm a pretty nerdy person, which means I will try to get nearly everything to represent one of the various fandoms I'm a part of. Obviously, this easily translates into what I'm wearing. Thus, two out of five of my shoes are DC Comics-related. Two of my four sweatshirts are the Harry Potter one I'm wearing and a Flash one. My two phone cases are a Batman & Robin one and a Wonder Woman one. Even my tattoos are nerdy: one is a paraphrase of a Dumbledore quote and the other is Tolkien's original illustration of the Doors of Durin from Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.

4. Priorities
     Honestly a huge part of why I'm not a part of the fashion industry is the fact that I have more pressing interests, particularly in where I choose to invest my money. Ask anyone who knows me where I spend most of my money and the first thing everyone will say is BOOKS. It's my passion and it means the world to me. Every time I'm forced to buy clothing, my immediate thought is, "I could buy, like, five books with this same amount of money."

5. I Just Don't Care
     The final reason I'm not in the fashion industry, is that I just don't care. It's not my cup of tea. I tend to have a pretty big problem with anyone or anything that presumes to dictate what I should or shouldn't look like or wear or be doing. Maybe that's just me being rebellious, but I couldn't care less if you like my outfit. If I like it, that's all that matters. Like I always tell anyone who will listen, confidence is 90% of looking good in pretty much anything. That's why hipsters can wear such weird clothes and still look so goddamn attractive.

     So there you have it: the top five reasons I am not in the fashion industry. The point of this post, besides laughing at myself, is essentially to say this:

     Wear what you like. Do what you like. Be who you like. Don't let others dictate the way you live your life, because life is too short to live like that. Who cares if that bitch in your Math class or at work thinks your outfit looks odd? If you like it, keep wearing it.
     And if you see me sitting at your local Starbucks with my brown and purple hair in braided pigtails, wearing a "Books Turn Muggles Into Wizards" sweatshirt as a shirt, over jeans and sandals, even though it's in the fifties outside and has been raining since dawn; feel free to judge my outfit. Because who I am and what I do doesn't have anything to do with you. I feel good like this. It makes me happy. And that's what matters in the end.

Then Why Would She Dress Like That?

A few months back, I had a discussion about sexual harassment with my dad. By discussion, I mostly mean argument, though that's not even because he was disagreeing with me (he wasn't), but because I get passionate about this sort of thing and it makes it difficult for me to think rationally when someone sets me off.
Don't get me wrong, my dad is totally against sexual harassment and a big part of the discussion was "What constitutes sexual harassment?" because it can be difficult for guys to understand why it's a problem when they are rarely on the receiving end. It's hard to understand the undercurrent of fear when they haven't been conditioned to expect sexual harassment/assault whenever they're out in public. Women, as a rule, are taught to always expect it and hope it doesn't happen, though we know it probably will.

This post is about a question that came up during that discussion that I've heard bounced all over the place: "But if she dresses provocatively, why wouldn't one assume it's because she wants sex? Don't some women wear revealing clothes to promote their availability?" It felt like a hard question at the time and feels like one every time I hear it. That's why I'm writing this post: because I never can get the answer out how I want when I'm having the discussion, though it seems so obvious when I think about it.

The simple answer would be that, yes, some women do wear clothing to let men know they're available or willing. But the operating word here is some. And even if that is why the woman has chosen to dress the way she has, that doesn't mean she wants sex with every male that walks by, either.

I could go on and on about that particular aspect of the question, but I want to address the assumption that this is the only reason a woman would dress provocatively in itself. Because when we assume we know what another person is ultimately trying to say with their clothing and/or appearance without bothering to listen to what the person is actually saying, we end up with a culture that not only ends up making wrong assumptions, but also one that defends rape and harassment with "Well, she was asking for it."

John Green makes it simple, "Imagine others complexly." Though he wasn't speaking to this particular issue, the sentiment applies. When we imagine others based on what we want them to be or suppose them to be, we miss out on who they really are and end up making decisions that could, at best, make us miss out on something that might have been great and, at worst, cause us to make decisions that can alter our lives and the lives of others in terrible ways.

There are a hundred reasons why any given woman may dress as conservatively or provocatively as they do on any given day. The only safe assumption to make there is that she dresses that way because she wants to dress that way. Making any further assumption without knowing or asking that person is wrong and a deeply ignorant way to go about things.

For example, when a woman wears a shirt that shows off her cleavage. That doesn't mean she wants to have sex with you or that she wants you to touch them. It doesn't mean that she's a tease or that she's just trying to get attention. She could be any of those things, but not because her shirt is low-cut. And when you assume you know why she chose that particular shirt without bothering to know her or give her the benefit of the doubt, you're the one who is in the wrong. For all you know, this was the only one of her shirts that is clean or maybe she just thinks it's cute. Maybe she just likes her cleavage and, let's be honest, she ought to because cleavage is awesome. But showing cleavage does not make her less than human and it doesn't give you the right to judge that woman or assume anything about her.

On a related note, dealing with sexual harassment and cleavage, when a woman gets upset at you for looking at her boobs, it's usually not because she doesn't want you to see that she has them. I, for one, like my boobs and don't mind that others do too. What I don't like is when you see them instead of a person. When you talk to my boobs instead of me, it's degrading and disgusting and it often brings up that undercurrent of fear that women are instilled with because we can't be sure you'll take no for an answer. We're upset because you're not talking to me, the person, you're talking to the part of me that you want to do something for you.

My point in this post is basically to point out that people act, dress, and make decisions the way they do for a plethora of reasons and when we assume that, as complete strangers, we innately know what those reasons are, we risk making some major mistakes that hurt ourselves and everyone around us. "Imagine others complexly" and let their words do the talking, not just their clothes. It's rare that we decide a man wants sex because he wore a fancy shirt, a tank top, or shorts above the knee, so let's stop assuming that the only reason a woman wears something that she likes is because she wants it. People wear what they wear because they have chosen to wear it. That is it. It's that simple.

*All pictures were taken off of Pinterest and are not property of the author.

A Few Things I've Learned Since Moving to Seattle

I have now been living in Seattle for a little over three weeks now. It's already been one hell of an experience and I really look forward to what is in store for me in the weeks to come. But I figured it would be fun to make a list of some of the things I've learned thus far in my walks around the city and hours spent trying to get my computer to connect to the library wifi.

So here goes nothing:

1) Always wear boots.

I guess this should be obvious, but I'm the kind of girl who likes my shoes to slip on an off. Call me a hobbit, but I don't like wearing shoes if it can be avoided and therefore resent the time spent lacing and unlacing them, not to mention the fact that I don't like tracking whatever might be clinging to them into the house.
However, I have quickly learned that my canvas shoes just will not do when you can expect it to rain at least once a day. It only took me two times of walking home in my own personal puddles to convince me that my canvas shoes will have to be retired to trips downstairs to get my mail or do laundry.

2) Walks are fun!

Exercise is generally not my thing, even if it's just taking a walk. I prefer to spend my free time reading and, back home, taking a walk meant walking uphill to see another boring set of houses in the suburbs. Every walk in Seattle is an adventure, at least to me. I find new things every day and love learning the layout of my neighborhood and the city as a whole.

3) When using revolving doors, keep it one person to a compartment unless you know the other person.

Okay, that should be common sense, but it is something I learned and it was a mortifying three seconds of my life. Chances are, the revolving door compartments are too small for more than one person to fit in comfortably. When in doubt, wait for it to revolve. If you, like me, find yourself in a too small revolving door compartment, stay as close to the back part of it as possible and just do your best not to let the other person realize you're behind them. Also, don't step on their shoes.

4) Wifi is essential.

I tried not to get it. I didn't want to pay for something I could get for free at the library a few blocks away. I wanted to wait at least until I paid my first rent check and all the other bills that are going to come along with it at the end of the month. However, I quickly realized how essential wifi is to my daily life. When the wifi at the library decided it wasn't too fond of my Mac, I gave in pretty quickly. It was either that, or pay $6 a day to get a coffee and mooch off the Starbucks wifi for a few hours.

5) Only tourists use umbrellas.

This sounds like a dumb generalization or pointless cultural standard when you first move here. After all, Seattle is known for being inherently rainy. However, the longer you stay here, the more you realize just why most locals wear hoods instead of carrying umbrellas: the wind.
It's pretty windy over here, especially since we're right off the water. Carrying an umbrella means battling with a stringless kite or having the umbrella turn inside out and make sure you get just as wet as if you weren't carrying one in the first place. Ditch it and deal with the rain. You'll be just as wet without expending unreasonable effort.

These weren't in any particular order and probably aren't very insightful, but they're just a bit of what I learned . . . that and the fact that the vending machine downstairs only takes nickels and quarters for some incomprehensible reason. I figured it wouldn't hurt to share it with you.

Who knows what I'll find out next.

Thank God for Excedrin

I figured I needed photographic proof
that I willingly got on a ferry. (Not
that you can really tell I'm on one.)

It's official. I've moved and am currently residing in Seattle, WA.
*does happy dance*
I'm still shocked that this is real life. I mean, I'm sitting in the Central Library, typing away at one in a hundred computers provided for everyone, hundreds of miles from nearly everyone I know and love.
It's wonderful.
I don't know about you, but the fact that I'm a new and unknown face in a big city is so freeing that I can hardly stand it. Of course, I'm still scared and worried about finding a job, but I've made it this far and I know I can make it the rest of the way as well.

So, for those of you who are wondering, I still have quite a few things to take care of. I can barely see the floor in my new apartment for everything that's still lying on the floor. When I left this morning, my cat was sitting on a half-made dresser I gave up on last night when I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.
Today, I drove an hour away to find a place where I could park my car semi-permanently without paying an arm and a leg. To get home, I had to hitch a ride with the owner of the rental space and then take a bus and two ferries to get back to downtown. If you know anything about me, you know I hate boats and tend to avoid any kind of deep water at all costs. Still, I managed it and survived, though I did have to stop by the drugstore on my walk home after acquiring a head-splitting headache. Thank God for Excedrin.

I'm still searching for a job and definitely feeling the pressure about getting one soon, but it's a load off my shoulders to have a place where I can park my car that isn't timed. I mean, getting up at 6am, throwing on a hoodie and jeans, and running to the car lot where I parked it the night before just to pay for a few more hours would've gotten old really fast. I was sick of it as soon as that alarm went off this morning.
Now I just need to find that job that will stem the flow of cash trickling out of my savings account, get a Washington State driver's license, order some checks, and figure out where the hell the dumpster for my apartment is. Oh, and I should probably finish assembling my dresser before I alphabetize the rest of my bookshelf.

I have a lot to do in the near future, but I look forward to seeing what Seattle life has in store for me.

I'm Moving!!

The best picture I managed to take of the Space Needle!

I know it's been a right age since I've written anything on this blog. I'm not exactly the best at keeping up with the twenty-thousand things I do on the internet (especially when it comes to writing: my passion and my bane).

Curled up in a chair at my parents' apartment in Paris, I am forcing myself to actually sit down and write this partially because I miss doing this, partially because Mom hasn't woken up yet to go to the bookstore with me, and partially because I've been too stressed in the last few days to do anything but think about this move . . . so I might as well get something productive accomplished from it. 

So here's the big news: I'm moving to Seattle. 

The first question I get every time I tell someone this bright bit of information is: "Why Seattle?"

It's a fair question, but one I find a bit difficult to answer. It's a lot of little things combined, I suppose. I've grown tired of living on the outskirts of Dallas and it was time to get out of my parents' home (even if I was the only one in it, seeing as they live overseas). I wanted to move to a big city and have a bit of a fresh start in a new place. 

Seattle seemed like the right place for a plethora of reasons. I've always liked the idea of Seattle. It's the coffee capital of the nation and known for it's quirkiness and love of art/artistic expression. It's rainy, but I've always loved the rain more than the sun. It's a new place, far away from the old, where I can decide for myself where to go from here.

I should also mention that it is the #1 most literate city in the world. If you know me, you know that's ridiculously cool. I mean, we are talking about a girl who is both an aspiring writer and librarian here.

The second question I normally receive is: "So who lives in Seattle?" Meaning, who do I know in Seattle?

The answer to this one is much easier. I know no one. I'm not moving up there to be with anyone, nor do I need someone else to go with me in order to make it. I know that people have the best intentions when it comes to this question, but I want to make it clear that I can do this on my own. Of course I've received helped from my family and my friends, but this is my adventure to take and no one should ever let fear of doing something alone keep them from doing that thing which they desire. This is your life; live it.

Lastly, people generally end their inquiries not with a question, but with a comment: "Wow, that's really brave of you. I would be too scared."

Let's get one thing straight here: I am scared shitless. As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I have spent the last few days having a near heart attack because now that I've gotten my apartment pegged down, this is real. (Not to mention, I am literally going to have 2.5 days to pack and say goodbye to everyone because I can't come home early from visiting my parents.)

I struggle with anxiety on a daily basis. It's a constant staple in my thought process and therefore definitely a big part of my life. One thing it has taught me, though, is that fear of a thing shouldn't always keep you from taking part in it. I have a long way to go in overcoming my personal anxiety, but I sure as hell don't want it to keep me from living my life. Therefore, I have to make the conscious effort to subvert it.

This, of course, doesn't mean that my anxiety about the move won't keep me up at night of put me on the verge of panic attacks (if you've never experienced one of these, count yourself lucky).

Let's also keep in mind that I'm predisposed to at least be a little more well-versed in something as big as this. After all, I've moved away from everyone I know more than once. And let's not forget just how many schools I transferred to and from. I still get asked if I was in the Witness Protection Program when I tell people my school history. It's one big, jumbled mess.

I guess the point in that is that I don't find myself particularly brave. I'm just unwilling to stay where I am out of fear. I'm filled with wanderlust and a need to explore that, for now, outweighs the terror of being the new girl once again.

And if I have to move back or decide Seattle isn't for me after my year's lease is up? Well, then that's how the cookie crumbles. I won't view it as a failure, but as an adventure and a risk I'll be glad I took. I'd rather know I tried than forever regret being to afraid to go.

Well, if all else fails, at least I'll still have my cat. She's coming with me at least. ;)

Feminist And Proud!

I used to be one of those women who claimed that I was not a feminist. It used to drive my deeply feminist best friend up a wall.

"Do you believe that women should have the right to vote?" she would ask me.
"Yes"

"Do you think that women and men should be paid the same for doing the same job?"
"Of course."

"Do you believe that women are any less important than men?"
"No."

"You're a feminist."

Yet I would still go on claiming that I was most definitely not a feminist and that feminism was just this grasping attempt for certain militant women to do their best to overrun all the males in the country.

Then I had some sense knocked into me. I'm not really sure what convinced me that I'm a feminist. It was probably the combined efforts of my best friend and how much time I spend reading and, therefore, coming across literature that explains the things I don't really understand. (Also, Youtube. There are some pretty kick-ass feminists on there that have helped me straighten out a thing or two in the way I think. ie. Laci Green, HayleyGHoover, etc.)

If you look up "feminism" in the dictionary, this is what you'll find:

It is "the advocacy of women's rights on the grounds of political, societal, and economic equality to men."

It's not trying to be better than men. It's not trying to dominate the world, become lesbians, and burn our bras. (I happen to like my bras. I don't intend to get rid of them while they still have use to me.) It's about being treated like we are also human. Feminism is about being respected as fellow human beings, and not as objects. 

This is why I'm so confused when I meet someone who claims they're not a feminist. Or, at least, I would be confused if I hadn't gone through the same thing a few years ago. The problem we're facing here can be narrowed down to this:

People haven't been educated in what it means to be a feminist. The things that they have been told are wrong and it's extremely difficult to refute the things that are so fully ingrained in our minds from birth.

It's strange and sad to me when I have conversations with other women about women's rights or dealing with a particular misogynistic asshole who has shown his deep disrespect for women very clear. These women are always on the same page all the way until I drop the word "feminist." It's like I've just called them a terrorist!

"That's not even feminism! That's just respecting women!" they tell me. Or, "Actually, I'm not a feminist, but I agree with everything else you said."

And when I explain that women's rights/respecting women as equal humans IS WHAT FEMINISM IS ALL ABOUT, I get that blank expression that tells me they're not even really sure what I'm talking about anymore. I just have to shrug and walk away, hoping that seed I just left will take root and they'll eventually look back and say, "Oh! That's what she was talking about!"

I'm a feminist and I'm proud to call myself that. Feminism isn't a dirty word. It isn't an insult. In fact, it ought to be a compliment. It means I'm not afraid to state that I will fight for the rights of women. It means I respect my own gender as well as the opposite sex. And there's nothing wrong with that.

A Love Letter to My Hair

Dear Hair,

 I know we've had our issues in the past. We've had great times and bad times. We've had nail-biting waits where you were covered in foil or simply waiting atop my head to be revealed in an entirely new way. Whether you were soon to be black, blonde, red, or purple, we've always stuck together, doing our best to help each other along the way.

Remember that time we left the bleach on you for too long? You came out beautiful but so weak and almost gummy in places. Or the time we had to spend two weeks with that awful reddish brown color after the hairstylist stripped the black? We've come a
long way since then, haven't we? I know you still have some healing to do, but I'm glad we held on through that. I did my best to nurse you back to health, and now look at how far you've come!

We've always had a mutual love for hair dye and that's probably one of my favorite things about our relationship. That . . . and the fact that I cut and style you. It's the best way that we can mutually express ourselves and it makes me
giddy from head to toe! (Or root to tip, in your case.)

I hope our relationship always stays this fun and exciting . . . where neither of us ever know what color or cut we'll shoot for next. I'm sure we'll continue to have our close calls and even our fights (I know you don't like the straightener, but we have to have some compromises), but I know we'll always come out on top together.

I love you,

Kirsten Erin

Feeling Restless

There's so much to do and so little time.

The above phrase is one that I've heard repeated over and over my entire life. Why does it always feel like we're quickly running out of time? It's like I constantly feel like I'm racing the clock to accomplish everything.

It's odd. Especially since I find myself wasting time more often than I care to admit. There are so many things I want to do; so many things I want to accomplish. But I seem to just get overwhelmed with the vastness of it all and shrink back, allowing my procrastination to rear its ugly head as I go back to Facebook or spend three hours on Pinterest.

It's time for me to start learning to manage my free time more efficiently. Working forty hours a week has somehow managed to make me lazy the rest of the time. I use up all my energy at work and then come home and succumb to the exhaustion. I can't keep doing that if I ever want to stop needing a day job.

I need to start learning how to utilize the time I have while I am still free enough to do so. Now I just have to figure out how.

Stifled

My dad was home for the weekend, which was awesome. I rarely get to see him and it's always a treat when he comes to town.

While the two of us were driving to see a movie yesterday, we somehow managed to get on the topic of my future. Right now, I'm living in their home (in America) while they're overseas (in France). My aunt (Mom's baby sister) and uncle recently moved in since they don't have anywhere else to stay and she's pregnant with her first baby (Hank!). I work as the Assistant Store Manager and a video store not far from my home.

To be honest, I hate it here. I feel stifled where I live, like I'm constantly on the verge of a panic attack. The suburbs have never been the place for me and I'm pretty sure they never will be. I love my job and I love my friends, but I'm ready to be out of here. Yet it seems like my plans keep getting pushed back.

Or maybe I'm just too scared to make the leap . . .

Anyway, I was venting about all of this when my dad brought up a way I could move a bit sooner. He was telling me that if I could find some way to further my writing career in Seattle (the city to which I'm wanting to move), if I could convince him that this would be a viable option that would actually help me make progress on that writing career, he would figure a way to set me up so that he could help me live there and be able to eat without working my ass off 24/7.

Of course, he's basically referring to college. Though he was talking about the possibility of a trade school, or something of that nature, that would strictly teach writing instead of requiring the student to take all of the other pointless classes that they will probably never use. *cough* Maths. *cough*

It's tempting. It's sorely tempting. Right now, I feel like I would do anything to get out of here and feel like I'm actually doing something: moving toward my future. I spent a good portion of my free time today looking for something like what he said. I found one or two promising universities, but those are so expensive and I've been so certain up to this point that I don't need college and I don't want to waste my (and/or my parents' money) on something I'm not absolutely certain I need for the future I desire.

It's not that I have anything against going to college. I think that, for a lot of people, it is the right choice. But I also think that not everyone has the same path and, for some, that means choosing not to go to college. I thought that was the path I was going to choose.

Then again, how are you supposed to know which way to choose? I mean, that's a pretty big decision there. How can I know whether my initial choice was the best or if I ought to change my mind before it's too late? I mean, I could always use more training in the skill I enjoy so dearly. I'm sure there's plenty to learn, but I'm also sure I don't want to get in debt of any kind.

As you can see, I've been having quite the inner dilemma. I don't do well with these sorts of issues. Thankfully, I managed to quell the panic attack that was on the verge of breaking loose tonight, though the nausea is still present. I don't really know how to explain my emotions on this any better than that. I mean, it's probably not a good idea to get me started on my social anxiety and all the things that crop up when I think of having to attend classes again (of course, this contributes to why moving is scary for me anyway, though my desire to get out of here is greater than my discomfort at the very idea of social interaction).

I hope I don't sound whiney, or worse, like a sociopath, but these are my general thoughts on my current situation and the decisions I feel like I need to make. I'm terrified and hopeful and entirely conflicted.

I just hope that, in all of that, I'll be able to figure out what is best for me, regardless of the other factors that play into the making of this decision. Writing this out helped, as writing out my emotions generally does, even if it hasn't quite led me to a solution.

Phobias

I've never been ashamed of my phobias. I mean, everyone's terrified of something. I happen to be terrified of enclosed spaces and deep water. It's not a big deal as long as no one puts me in an enclosed space or forces me to get on a boat. I've written a post on my claustrophobia (which you can find here), so you can tell I'm not ashamed of it. I feel like it's a pretty legitimate phobia. I mean, I do hate having it. I hate that I can't enjoy the Hezekiah tunnels the way my tour group did and that I started panicking when my family went into a partially underground tomb in Ireland. I hate bursting into tears and having trouble breathing. And I especially hate when that happens on a crowded Metro car or in front of people who like to tell me afterward that I'm probably over my fear now. (Sorry, but throwing spiders at an arachnophobic person isn't going to make them stop fearing the little buggers. It's going to make it worse. Claustrophobia works the same way.) 

I've been embarrassed by people witnessing my reactions to my phobias, but never of the phobias themselves. Until now.

I've recently noticed that I am growing increasingly fearful of elevators- a problem which I'm not okay with. I believe it's a mix of my claustrophobia and that time my sister, niece, and I got trapped in the library elevator. It seems that every time I find myself in an elevator, my heart rate goes up and I catch myself holding my breath until the doors open up again. 

It's almost comical. I mean, I get claustrophobic on planes, which are clearly the more dangerous of the two, but I seem to panic more on elevators than the metal birds I seem to find myself sardine-packed into every couple of months.

Frankly, it's embarrassing. Elevators freak me out. Then again, so does claymation and I've never really been ashamed to talk about that one. I just think it's irritating and odd that I've somehow managed to find another thing that makes me want close my eyes and pray for it to be over. At least I haven't gotten to the point where I'll only take the stairs. I suppose I'm a bit too lazy for that one. 

Republicans vs. Democrats

The United States presidential elections are coming up.

This is probably no surprise to you if, like me, your newsfeed is getting blasted with about fifty political banners and criticisms every day. It's getting exhausting already and a part of me just wants to hibernate until January.

Don't get me wrong, the presidential election is incredibly important. YOU NEED TO VOTE. Not voting is probably about the stupidest thing you can do this fall, other than selling your home so you can afford all the useless crap you're going to buy on Black Friday. But that's not what I want to talk about here.

What I want to talk about is the demonization of opposing political parties.

You see, I consider myself a libertarian, which is to say I'm conservative with a good deal of democratic beliefs (ie. I'm pro-life and pro-marijuana*). Therefore, I don't consider myself either Republican or Democratic, though I'm more likely to vote Republican than Democratic if it comes down to one or the other. (This is majorly because being anti-abortion is the most important thing to me, above all other political issues.).

Growing up mostly around Republicans, I grew up thinking that most Democrats didn't know what they were talking about. I assumed that the left was full of ignorance and ill-intent and that you would have to be a moron to consider yourself as such. As I got older, however, I started to see things in a new light. I made friends with people who were highly intelligent and deeply concerned about the state of our nation that identified with the Democratic party. Furthermore, when I discussed certain political standpoints with them, they actually made sense.

I then started to notice that there were many Republicans who had no idea what they were talking about and simply took the stances they did out of fear, ignorance, or in an attempt to fit in. They hadn't really thought through why they believed what they did. They simply accepted their initial inclination as fact and worked from there. I'm not saying all Republicans are this way. I know just as many highly intelligent Republicans as I do Democrats; the same goes for ignorant ones.

This is the point I'm trying to make: We need to stop demonizing one party or another. We can't keep going around acting like because we're Democrats or because we're Republicans, we're somehow better than everyone else.

The way I see it, both Democrats and Republicans are wrong about a lot of things. But they're also right about a lot of things. It's our narrow-minded inability to empathize and see things from a different point of view that keeps us from growing. Sometimes it's worth it to consider your "enemy's" argument. Considering it never means that you have to accept it.

I suppose that's the end of my rant, but I hope I gave all of y'all something to think about. So the next time you're in an argument from an opposing party member, please don't just shut them out. You never learn if you don't listen. Just hear what it is they have to say. You don't have to agree, but you might just learn something new . . . and look a tad less ignorant.

*Saying I'm pro-marijuana doesn't mean I advocate smoking/taking it while it's illegal. Nor does it mean that I do it. I just don't believe it ought to be illegal and ought to be treated like alcohol, legal but only for those above a certain age (18) and not to be used while or before driving.

Exhausting

Chilling with Aiden, the little boy I nanny. :)

Does anybody else ever feel like their life is moving too quickly and yet they don't know what they're meant to do next? I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. In fact, it's a pretty common feeling, from what I can tell. I think it's especially apparent in the transition from graduating high school to encountering the rest of your life.

Right now, I'm working at a video store, taking a semester off from school, and living by myself in my parents' home while they're living overseas. I'm trying to figure out what my next move is going to be while saving up money and trying not to freak out over the fact that I don't have any substantial plans yet.

I mean, even a few days ago I was worrying over the fact that nearly all my coworkers at the video store work two jobs and thinking that maybe I needed to get another one when I realized I already have one working as a nanny (at least, that's if he starts calling me in more often--which it looks like he will).

*Sigh* It's like I know what my major goals are. I have a good idea of where I want to go. It's just the periods in between that stare back at me like a blank page just begging to be written on, but writer's block keeps holding me back.

I have plenty of stuff to take care of in the meantime. Lately, I feel like I've just been running from one thing to the next with barely enough time to keep up with everything that's important to me. It's just exhausting worrying about what my next step is going to be while trying to take care of everything else that needs to get done.

What I really need to do is put more trust in God and his ability to lead me through this and make sure I end up where I need to be. But honestly, that's easier said than done. Still, it can't hurt to start now.

I guess I just wanted to get that off my chest. I know I can deal with this and everything will fall into place in it's time. Sometimes I just have to remind myself of the fact that He makes all things work together for my good.

I can do this. I can make it through. I can accomplish my dreams.