Top Books to Read This Summer

With school having ended for most, and a bit more free time, some of you may be looking for a new novel to get your hands on. Below are some of my own personal favorites, curated especially for you.

A quick disclaimer: I don't consider myself a purveyor of modern literature, and very rarely do I venture into the depths of young adult fiction, so all of the novels I have listed were published at least 75 years ago. If you are a fellow reader of classic literature, these books are for you. If you aren't, I would highly recommend that you try your hand at reading some of these, as I thoroughly enjoyed everything featured below and think that you might too.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith

"Francie, about a year ago he gave me that card all written out and two dollars. He said, 'when Francie graduates, send her some flowers for me - in case I forget.'"

In last year's English class, I was required to pick and read a coming of age novel from a provided list, and subsequently write a couple essays on it. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is the book I chose, and ever since, I have been so grateful that I did.

It is a bit slow to start, but was a heartbreaking novel following the childhood and adolescent years of a Brooklyn girl living in poverty with her mother, brother, and father. Sort of like a 20th century Little Women - but with less sisters and no fashionable pickled limes - the reader is able to form a connection with the characters and watch them grow up.




The Metamorphosis - Franz Kafka

"When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous vermin."

A novel that was on my TBR list for seemingly eternity, my copy sat on the shelf collecting dust on its pretty cover for months before I finally cleaned it off with the intention of reading it. I found the way it was written to be somewhat odd; definitely not what I was used to, since the first sentence of the novel begins with what might already have been considered as the climax of a novel.

However, since first reading the novel almost a year ago, I have reviewed it again several times, rereading some of my favorite chapters and quotes. Personally, I think it to be an absurd (in a good way, of course) and brilliant book on isolation and existentialism, and would thoroughly recommend it to anyone who enjoys classic literature and modernist fiction. 

The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde

"Humanity takes itself too seriously. It is the world's original sin. If the cave-man had learned to laugh, History would have been different."

I picked this book up on a whim, partly because I had some leftover money on a gift card to Barnes and Noble, and partly because the elegant designs on the cover attracted me. I had heard from a friend that Oscar Wilde was an incredible writer, and after reading his only novel and a few of his poems, I think I can safely say that that is a marvelous understatement.

I've always been one for psychological novels that leave you a tad bit mind blown, but The Picture of Dorian Gray goes above and beyond with its artistic (if you get the pun let me know) cruelty and narcissism. The book follows the life of a vain young man who makes a wish to stay young forever, and the ultimate consequences of his actions. The novel is a profound message to all that it is our actions that define us, not our beauty.

Cards on the Table - Agatha Christie

"He played the part of the devil too successfully. But he was not the devil. Au fond, he was a stupid man. And so - he died."

A little fun to lighten the load. I don't know about you, but I've been an avid reader of Agatha Christie and her iconic literary detectives for a few years now, and am always eager to pick up another Poirot novel in order to use my "little grey cells." Cards on the Table was originally just another detective novel to help pass the time, but it is now one of my all time favorites (along with The Murder on the Orient Express and The Murder of Roger Ackroyd; both worth a read).

If you've never encountered Hercule Poirot, he is essentially a slightly more Belgian version of Sherlock Holmes, but with more moustache and less deducing (to sum it up). It begins with a man who was quietly murdered in a room with only four other people, and it is up to four detectives to solve the crime; though of course, it is Poirot who is the hero in the end. Filled with suspicious characters and surprise clues that will keep the reader on the edge of their seat until the very end, this thriller is one of the best that Christie has written.

The Good Earth - Pearl S. Buck

"Hunger makes thief of any man."

The last novel on this list is coincidentally the one I read first. Recommended to me by my mother - someone who never seems to have read the books she suggests and yet is always right about the quality of them - for an Autumn read.

The Good Earth is a peaceful story, and takes you through the life of a poor farmer and his family living in China after the fall of the Qing dynasty. It won the Pulitzer Prize in 1932, and the whole book in itself represents the land; specifically, respect and piety for the land. It also deals with the corruption that wealth often brings, as well as the oppression of women during that time period. Since I read it, The Good Earth has been one of my favorite novels, mainly because of the author's ability to convey the emotions and thoughts of nearly every character.

Well, there you have it folks. I know this post was a bit longer than what I normally write (ahem, nothing at all), but I wanted to - and hope I did - convey not only the plots of these novels, but the themes, characters, and everything in between.

Have any of you read the books above? If not, will you? What are some novels that are on your Summer TBR list?

There Is A Tree Outside My Window

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I love trees. I used to climb this small little tree at my sister's house when I was younger, but eventually I outgrew the little branches and discovered another one in the front yard which promptly became my new play thing. I used it's branches as make-believe seats and built a pretend fire beside it's roots. I still climb it sometimes.

There was a lovely old pine outside my window. It wasn't strong and tall like the one I used to climb, but it's many branches overlapped and billowed in the wind. It broke my heart when that old pine fell down. Leaning against the glass from which I once looked out on it with it's roots up in the air so pitifully.

It's brothers and sisters looked down on it with woeful glances. It's branches snapped, it's core laying on the dirt when it should be standing tall and proud. It will be gone soon; dragged away to make way for a new tree to take it's place. I'll miss that lovely sight outside my window.

My Favorite Things

Autumn leaves falling. The smell of homemade brownies. That wonderfully cool side of the pillow. Making somebody laugh. Waking up to a rainy day. Wandering the beach alone. Finding a piece of sea glass. Seeing a bluebird. Capturing an incredible moment in time with a photograph. Climbing a tree. Looking out the window. Knowing that I've been missed. Being around people. Loosing a whole day to a good book. The smell of a sharpie marker. Painting a room. All shades of blue. My bookshelf. Warm apple cider on an autumn evening. Big red barns. Reading new comments my readers have left me. Staying up late. Blogging. Wrapped up in a warm blanket eating ice cream. Late night talks with my friends. The black and white keys of a piano. The ticking of a clock. Handmade gifts. Cloudy skies. Bundling up. Beautiful handwriting. Fairy lights. Tissue paper. Hide and seek. My birthday. Fresh baked bread. The sound of a pencil against paper. Old books. Breakfast in bed. Fuzzy blankets. Biting into an apple. Black and white photographs. Freshly fallen snow. Morning dew. 

Interview With Rachelle Marie

Well, my friends, I have returned! I apologize for the rather long, unintentional blogging break. School has been keeping me on my tip-toes for awhile, but I promise that more posts will be coming this way.

Anyhow, I recently had the opportunity to interview the remarkable and talented Rachelle Marie from Beloved Bluebird. She is amazing at what she does and is one of the most talented and accomplished bloggers I know. Special thanks to Rachelle for allowing this to happen.

Q. "Hello Rachelle! I'm so glad you were able to join us today! Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself; your personality, your hobbies, and anything else you'd like to share."

A. Hello Aliah and readers! My name is Rachelle and I live in western Washington state with my parents and two brothers (one older and one younger). I am fifteen years old and spend my days painting, reading, writing, making music, taking photos, filming videos, and acting in musicals. Another favorite pastime of mine is adventuring. I live amongst lakes and forests and between two mountain ranges which separate me from the sea on one side and the desert on the other. I love people a lot and enjoy having deep conversations and making new friends! If you would like to know more about me, I blog over at Beloved Bluebird and sell greeting cards in my shop, The Little Birch.

Q. "I would like to start off with the usual questions: what inspired your blog and when did you decide you wanted to create your own blog?"

A. "I started my blog back in June 2012 after running a little magazine-style website for a few months. I decided that I wanted a more personal website where I could connect with other people and have creative freedom. At the time, I wasn't very familiar with blogs, but there were a few that I was following along with. I decided to give it a try, and thus, my blog was created!"

Q. "You mentioned that you enjoy both painting and photography. If you couldn’t do both and had to give up either painting or photography for the rest of your life, which one would you pick and why?"

A. "Oh dear! I hope that is a choice that I never have to make. ;) However, under the very unfortunate circumstances that I would have to, I would most likely choose to give up painting. Although it is something that I love to do very often and is very important to me, photography is a vital passion that I don't think I could live without. In the future, it would be much more convenient to take photos of my children and my life rather than to paint them."

Q. "If you ever got a chance in the future, would you ever move from where you live? Or would you simply stay at home and travel to other places instead? Why?"

A. "I do hope to study abroad somewhere in Europe for a year or two, but after college I think I'd like to stay home and just travel. While I do love visiting other places, it is always so good to have a familiar home to return to after my adventures are over."

Q. "What do you enjoy most about photography, and what inspired you to start taking photographs?"

A. "Photography is enjoyable for me for a myriad of reasons, but I suppose the best aspect of it is the ability to capture a single moment and make it infinite in itself. It is so special to return to those moments in the future and to have the ability to capture them for other people! I think I was inspired to start taking photos around 4th grade. My parents had a little photography business and I always loved seeing their shoots - I really wanted to learn to take photos like theirs. I took an old digital camera on our trip to California and snapped loads of photos and I haven't stopped since!"

Thank you so much for doing this Rachelle, it means a lot. :)

Finding Inspiration: Poetry

Lately, many people have been asking me how I come up with my poems and short stories and what I use for inspiration.

This sparked an idea for a blog post. I thought that all of you lovely readers might be interested in how I write my pieces and perhaps you will take some of this to heart and start writing your own pieces.

Let's take a look into my mind, shall we?

I love to take inspiration from ordinary things. My favorite poems and short stories are all results from odd little things in my ordinary life that I turn into a piece of writing.

For example, I love Disney and Pixar films. I have only watched it once and it was years ago, but the beginning of the movie Up inspired my short story, Dear You. I wrote it during a long car ride. Because I love letters, I had been meaning to write a short piece that was made up of unsent letters. When I placed my pen onto my paper, the words simply flowed.

I prefer to write on pen and paper. I find that I am prouder of the pieces I have written on paper than the ones I have typed. Some examples are Dear You, Don't Tell Anyone, and When Everything Was Golden.

The idea for When Everything Was Golden  was when my mother and I were reflecting on some of the past vacations we had been on and she said "the good old days," which is what When Everything Was Golden was originally going to be called. When I was writing the piece, I changed "the good old days" to "when everything was golden" and it stuck.

I also often get inspiration from photoraphy. Whether it be my own or simply a photograph from Pinterest, I've always thought of photographs as "little snapshots of life" which carry so much inspiration.

Finding inspiration can be difficult at first, but once you open your eyes, everything will seem like potential for a new poem or story. Be creative. 

When everything was golden

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I can still remember,

When everything was golden.

When we used to splash

in the puddles together,

And when when we would catch

Each other when we nearly fell

From the trees we were climbing.

I can still remember

When the grass was high in fields,

And when we would prance about,

Worryless and full of hope.

When everything was golden,

Far back in my forest of memories,

We were always together, inseperable.

But now, you are gone, and without you I am lost.

When everything was golden, 

You were there.

You were the sun and I was the moon ,

And together we made everything golden.

Simple Things

She loved the smell of the earth,

The touch of waves, 

The taste of berries,

The sight of trees, 

The sound of laughter,

And the feeling of being fully alive.

She's Gone Bookish #1: The Book Thief

The Book Thief and I have a bit of a long history. The first time I ever heard of it was when the movie came out, nearly two years ago. Back then, I didn't even know that the movie was based on a book, otherwise I would have read the book before I watched the movie.

When I first saw the movie, I completely fell in love with it. It wasn't until later that I found The Book Thief was a book and I added it to my TBR list.
Now, two years later, I finally got around to reading it, and I'm here to share with you what I thought of it.

Summary: 

"It's just a small story really, about among other things: a girl, some words, an accordionist, some fanatical Germans, a Jewish fist-fighter, and quite a lot of thievery...

Set during World War II in Germany, Marcus Zusak's groundbreaking new novel is the story of Liesel Meminger, a foster girl living outside of Munich. Liesel scratches out a meager existence for herself by stealing when she encounters something she can't resister-books. With the help of her accordion-playing foster father, she learns to read and shares her stolen book with her neighbors during bombing raids as well as with the Jewish man hidden in her basement before he is marched to Dachau.
This is an unforgettable story about the ability of books to feed the soul."
-Goodreads

My Thoughts:

I have only positive things to say about The Book Thief.
The first thing any review will say about this book is that it is narrated by Death. So I may as well get it out of the way. Yes, Death, The Hooded One, The Angel of the Night, narrates. He is very busy during the war years, as you might expect.

One of the many things I loved about this book was the unique writing style and the narrative story telling. The fact that the entire book is narrated by Death was something I had never heard of before and gave the book a somber mood at times.

Most books these days do not have the same eloquent writing style as old classics from back in the day do. I loved that this book had both a captivating plot and an expressive and fluent narrative.
The author did not tone down anything about the difficulties of war time and described everything realistically.

Liesel Meminger was a strong, sarcastic, and yet kind character who fit well into the plot. Many times, she risks her life to "borrow" books from libraries and rescue books from burnings. She has received them as gifts and a few people have even written them for her.

But the fact that she finally decides to put her knowledge of words to good use and write her own story saves her life. Books and words not only play an enormous part in this book, they are characters.

This book made me cry and laugh and kept me on the edge of my seat all the while. I would highly recommend it to anyone who is looking for something that will make your heart swell with joy and sadness. It is truly one of the greatest novels I have read.

A Pocketful of Delightful Words

I love to collect delightful words which can be used in my writings or in everyday life. Here are a few of my favorites. 

Elsewhere - In another place.

Yonder - A place more distant.

Pluviophile - Someone who finds joy and peace of mind on mind on rainy days.

Brood - To dwell upon a subject.

Eloquence - The practice or art of using language with fluency or aptness.

Inglenook - A cozy place by the hearth.

Don't Tell Anyone

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Don't tell anyone,
but I sold my soul to the wildflowers. 

I let their shades of indigo and

purple hues

devour what was left of me. 

I let myself roll down 

the dark green hills and let the grass' 

uneven edges prick my fingertips 

as they brushed through. 

Don't tell anyone, 

but I sold my soul to the golden beams

of sunlight fighting to shine through the 

small holes in the treetops. 

I let the humid air swirl around me

as the faint breeze touched my cheeks.

Don't tell anyone,

but I sold my soul to the fluffy white clouds

that looked as if they had been

painted onto the baby blue sky. 

I let the richness of the dark earth swallow me

and let the scrap-booked leaves 

crunch beneath me.

Don't tell anyone, 

but I sold my soul to mistiest of things,

to the dreamiest of things, 

to the brightest of things, 

to the greatest of things.

Don't tell anyone, 

but I sold my soul to the 

wildflowers.

This Blank Page Haunts Me

For weeks now, I haven't been keeping up with my blogging duties, and nearly every post is an apology post. I haven't been inspired lately, and have the dreaded blogger's block.

I don't want to be one of those bloggers who only does little post once every few weeks. I want to be consistent with my posts, and come up with original ideas.

But, as you can see, that plan hasn't been working out very well for me. Every time I close my eyes to relax the blank page of an un-typed blog posts bores a hole into my mind. And so, I have finally pulled myself up from the place where I tripped and fell.

I have several posts I'm working on now, including a book review (which I haven't done in ages!). I have also changed my blog design once again, to help me become more motivated.

Hopefully I will post tomorrow or Monday. I'm currently on vacation in Florida (beaches are the best!) and will be leaving on Sunday. Don't forget to remind me to share some photos from my trip with all of you! :)

So, that's all for now.

-Aliah

Dear You

Dear you,
I saw you for the first time today. Your red curls were tied in pigtails, and they bounced up and down as your hands clutched the jump rope that made you skip so. The smile on your face was genuine and looked as if it would never leave it. But when you fell and scraped your knee, tears fell freely from your face. Your hands were raw and red, and you ran crying leaving me staring at the places on the sidewalk where your feet had touched.

Dear you,
I was swinging as fast as my chubby legs could take me. I saw you playing in the sandbox and when I came to join you, you didn't protest. No words were exchanged, but together we built a mis-happened sandcastle.

Dear you,
Today was the first day of school. You sit next to me on my right-hand side. I told you my name and you told me yours.

Dear you,
It's been a year. We've spent it together, flying kites, making lemonade, and climbing trees. I could never imagine having a better friend than you.

Dear you,
We had a fight the other day. It nearly caused my heart to break. It was about such a silly thing; I don't remember it now. You did nothing wrong, I know. The fault was all mine. I hope you'll understand.

Dear you,
I'm so happy for you. You've always wanted to travel. I suppose that's why you're leaving. You've promised to write, though I know we will drift apart, just as all friends do in the end. Our childhood and youth is complete, and we are left with nothing but memories.

Dear you,
I haven't seen you in months. You called nearly every day at first, and then just once a week. It's been seven weeks since I last heard from you. I know you're busy, but I can't help but wonder what our lives would be like if you had decided to stay.

Dear you,
I tried to call you last night. It's been two years since I last heard your voice. I still remember that first day when you fell. I wonder if we'll ever see each other again.

Dear you,
I was sitting in the coffeehouse today when I saw someone from behind who looked exactly like you. Her flaming red curls bounced up and down just like yours, and she wore that same sky blue cardigan you have loved since highschool. I think I would have called out your name if I hadn't known you lived halfway across the country.

Dear you,
It really was you that day. I was walking by the park where we had played so long ago when I saw you. I knew it was you. Your head was down and your hands were gripping the chains of the swing you sat on. I've missed you.

Dear you,
You've moved back. You have a job. So much has changed, but everything still feels like it did when we were children when I'm with you.

Dear you,
It's been months since I saw you at the coffeehouse. I want to be able to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to  be able to see your smile and your morning hair for the rest of my life. I'm going to ask you to marry me.

Dear you,
You said yes.

Dear you,
We moved into our first home. Everybody from my family and yours pitched in. The whole house is filled with boxes, and hardly anything has been unpacked. Every morning when we wake up, we are unable to find any mugs, so we have our coffee in a sugar bowl and a milk pitcher.

Dear you,
It must be so hard for you. Having something inside you, and experiencing all that pain. I wish I could help. I really do.

Dear you,
I'm so glad we have such wonderful lives and have settles down together. I'm sorry I haven't been helping much with the kids. I'll try to help more often.

Dear you,
When you smile, it still send goosebumps up my spine, though that doesn’t happen very often anymore. I wish you’d get better. It didn’t seem serious at first, and you improved so much. Now just you’re back where you started. I want to take you back home and pick you up right before we go through the door, just like I did when we first moved in. I wish you’d wake up so I could see your smile once again.

Dear you,
I read you all these letters. They were just a few out of so many others that I never gave to you, but these were the most important. It made me so happy that I had made you smile one last time.  

Your last words to me were: "do what I always wanted to." So I will.

Dear you,
This is going to be the last letter. I'm going to bury these with you, so you'll have them with you always.. I sold our home. I couldn’t bear to live in there all alone without you. It was the house of our dreams, and now that you’re gone, it has no meaning to me. The kids are off at college and they’ll probably buy their own places after that. I’m leaving to see the world, just like you asked me too. I’m old now, but I’d do anything for you. I’ve been thinking about that day, so long ago, when I first saw you, your hair bouncing up and down just before you fell. The only thing I have left of you are memories, but I think they will be enough for now.

I love you and I miss you.

Wait for me; Don't go away. If you promise me that, I think I'll be alright.

So goodbye for now, my dearest friend.

Dear you.

Three Words

I miss her.

She was the

Keeper of all my

Secrets.

She comforted me

When the salt tears

Fell from my cheeks.

She was my best

Friend.

And now that she is

No longer here,

My heart feels like

It was ripped from

My chest and broken

In two.

My mind swirls from

The pain and grief.

A hurt so deep

That tears no longer

Fall from my

Swollen eyes.

There is nobody 

There to stroke my hair,

And to tell me it's

Going to be alright.

Because I know

It's not going to be.

I am still confused. 

Wondering how

All this 

Could have happened.

She was here one moment,

And gone the next.

Not even having enough

Time

To say goodbye.

There are only

Three words that

Can describe how I feel.

Simple and powerful.

They can make me 

begin to cry all over

Again.

Three words.

I miss her.

She was my best

Friend.

My sister.

And I miss her.

-Side note: As you can see, I decided to change my blog name to Splashes of Indigo. I really like it, and I hope you do too. I am awaiting a few changes to be made on my design, color wise. Adieu. 

I feel like I am bound by

Chains

Striving to break

Free.

My heart has nearly stopped

Beating

And in my last waking

Moments

I am still

Bound.

No one did this to

Me.

It was all my

Fault.

I put up the

Wall.

I'm the one who turned the

Key

And threw it

Away.

I did this to

Myself.

And now I

See

what I shouldn't have

Done.

My hands are

Bound.

And I cannot

Move.

The tears slide my

Cheeks.

I have brought this upon

Myself.

And now I 
Regret.

Letting Go

Ever since I was little, change has always been very hard for me. I always wanted things to stay how they were; forever.

By the times I was in second grade, change had come; hard. Both my grandparents had died (the only 2 I knew; I've never met my grandparents from my father's side), my two elder sister's had gotten married (they were like second mothers to me) and moved away, and then we moved from the only home I had ever known.

I found myself in an unknown world. We had left everything behind, and although we hadn't moved very far, (only about an hour away) it was hard for an 8 year-old to deal with so many changes at once.

I still held on very tightly to everything I had left behind, refusing to let go. My life changed a lot, for better or for worse.

Life has been fine for the past 4 years now, but I still wish all of these things hadn't happened. Little by little now, as I've gotten older and learned more, I've been releasing past memories from my grip and letting them roam free.

I still treasure the times when I was younger, but I just don't depend on old memories for dear life. I can tell you now, holding on to something relentlessly isn't going to make your life better. It's not going to change anything. You'll just be pining for something that won't come back.

Trust me, you'll feel so much more relieved and free once you accept that.

- Side note: Photo is from Pinterest

Hold On Tight

Trying to hold on

To stay

To keep on being

Who I am

But my fingers 

Are slipping

Memories flood through

My last thoughts

I gaze down

There is nothing

but darkness there

This cannot be the end

And just as I

Start to let go

Accept that I will 

Fall

A hand comes and

Grabs mine

A face looks

Down at me

And smiles

It's not time for you

To go just yet

She says

And she pulls me up

Back into the world

The Snow Has Fallen

The snow has fallen

At last.

The world is covered

In a lacy blanket

And everything is asleep.

Untouched.

Soundless.

The shadows cast

Upon the snow.

While the sun

Shines bright.

The flowers are

Withered.

The animals are

Silent.

But there is a

Regal air

That surrounds the

Snow.

It holds so much

Sadness

Beauty

Bitterness.

Yet, it holds the 

Power

To capture the heart.

I was always a happy child. I enjoyed seeing the light shine through the leaves and and hearing the colorful birds saying good morning to each other. I would smell the flowers in the meadows and feel the gentle breeze against my cheeks. People would sometimes say I was gifted; not in math or science, but seeing the beauty in everything. The beauty some were not able to see. I loved everyone and everything and always saw the light shining through them no matter how unkind they were. Well, I did not love all. There was one thing I feared and hated. The Darkness. It would haunt me in my dreams and hide in the shadows when others were not looking. I promised myself I would never succumb to the Darkness. Never have hate in my heart and never let the shadows take over my spirit. But alas, never say never.

Take A Look Through My Eyes

Hello everybody. For those of you who read Bethan's blog (click here), you would have read her latest post, Inside the Writer. I felt inspired by it, and I decided to do something like it.

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I feel like I haven't really told you guys who I am. You know me, you know I love to read and write, acting and photography. There isn't much else. So I decided to let you all take a look through my eyes and let you get to know me, on the inside.

We'll start with the basics. My name is Aliah. I am 12 years old. Although I am one of the biggest bookworms you'll ever know, I used to hate reading when I was younger. It was like a chore to me, and I dreaded the half an hour where I was stuck reading a book.
But then, one day, something clicked. As I sat on the couch, reading my book I no longer felt like reading was a chore. It felt like I was in a different world, being able to escape from all my troubles. Ever since then, I have loved reading and have never been seen without a book. Books are big part of my life (in fact, they are bigger than big) and I don't know what I'd do without them. I'd be miserable.

Another thing that defines me is writing. If you are not new to this blog, you would know that I share a lot of my writing here quite often. The first time I ever wrote a complete story was the first day of 2nd grade. It was called The Talking Monkey. I admit that the plot was horrible and my spelling was atrocious, but I still have the original copy.  For me, writing is like reading. It gives me opportunity to leave this world and go into a fantasy one. The only difference is that I control what happens there, because I've written the story.

I'm not much of an outdoorsy person. I enjoy nature and taking photographs to capture wonderful moments in time, but I'm not one for swimming, hiking, or any other kind of sport. It's not something I enjoy doing. Photography, on the other hand, is one of my hobbies. When I was younger, I could care less about DSLR's  and lens's, but since I began this blog, I have become more and more interested in taking photographs. Yet another thing this blog has taught me.

I have a rather large temper and everyone says I complain a lot, but I find it hard to hold a grudge. When I'm not angry, I'm usually a very happy person. If you were meeting me for the first time, you would see that I'm a very shy person. I was a lot shyer when I was younger, but I've grown more self-confident over the years. I laugh a lot when I'm with my friends, but get shyer when we're around other people.

I love chocolate. I love the smell of books and curling up with them on a rainy day. I procrastinate a lot and make lots of mistakes. One of my many talents is complaining, though I like to be helpful. My first language was Spanish, but as you can see, I'm fluent in English. I'm learning Arabic and I play the piano. One of my main goals in life is to be the author of a best-seller book, along with visiting the 50 states of America. I love sunsets, especially at the beach, and I burying my feet in the sand. I tend to talk a lot, but I also love to daydream. I'm also a sucker for Nutella, and I'm horrible at finding endings for my stories. I can be a bit moody and I spend way too much on the internet. But, despite all my faults, I love who I am.


I hope this wasn't a bore and that you all enjoyed getting to know me a bit better.

I spun around, giggling, my dress forming a circle as I flew across the clearing. I was dizzy, but not dizzy enough. My hair whipped against my face and my bare feet touched to green grass. The world

spun and I felt like I was about to collapse, but I still laughed. The world, my world, was perfect, and nothing could change it.