I am so incredibly addicted to this song right now. Every time it comes to a close, I lament that it is so short!
The other trick is that I packed all my stuff for college into so such a compact little collection of green boxes and various shoulder bags. Plus this year I'm bringing a rug and a fridge! I can't wait! We're leaving really early tomorrow morning, and I'll get there mid-afternoon. There are so many people I can't wait to see. I'm not really looking forward to classes as much as I would have thought… but I'm sure I'll be excited once I get started.
So I've heard of Sick Puppies but never listened to them until now. I'm not sure what's up with them – what's going on behind their lyrics and in their lives – but all I know is I love their most recent album, with the exception of a few songs perhaps…. But anyway, oh my gosh, I listen to it so much on Spotify.
Also liking The Script's "Hall of Fame."
And so far, I'm not tired of this song yet:
And this song will always make me smile:
I'm gonna miss being in my home town for the beautiful autumn season… but it's not too shabby out in Ohio either. And what's more, I'll be sharing it with my best friends.
But first, I'm going to Confession and Mass this afternoon.
I don't know if my selection of songs demonstrates this,
"In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different." But each of us is different.
Now, if I met a guy and I found myself trying to be like him to get his attention – or the same with a girl – then this quote might be useful. But most of the time, we are different just the way we are. But it's our similarities, not our differences, which bring us together.
I understand the point of this quote – it's to say that you shouldn't be ashamed to be different. But I think the only people who care about this quote are taking it for more than that. I've seen far too many people using quotes like this to back up behavior that needs to be reigned in. We've all seen it – in real life and in movies or television. It's ridiculous. They're super opinionated, loud, obnoxious, and too strong-minded. These people were born this way, anyway, but quotes about being different make people forget that there is such a thing as rudeness, such a thing as relating to other people.
"If you've never lost your mind then you've never followed your heart." So my heart is trying to send me to a lunatic asylum?
The times that I have lost my mind have not been pleasant. Yeah, I guess you could say I was following my heart…. If that's the way you want to put it, then I'm not totally sure that following your heart is a good thing.
This quote could mean something else by "lost your mind," I suppose, but I'm not sure what. If it is trying to tell me that I will feel insanely happy and light as a feather, then I will believe that when I get there. But I hardly think that feeling is guaranteed to come with following my heart. I might do something dumb, but again, this quote is based on the presumed premise that following your heart is the epitome of great things! And so far, the evidence is pointing to the opposite.
"I like flaws and am most comfortable around those who have them. I, myself, and made up entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions." This one just blows my mind.
You're most comfortable around people who have flaws? …Do you have a limit? Like, if you're with people who don't give a darn about you or anything else, doesn't that bother you? Are you comfortable with murderers and thieves and whatnot? Are you comfortable with people who swear and disrespect people?
Okay, anyone who stand behind this quote probably doesn't mean it to that extent. But this quote seems to show to me only the most refined pride. "I've made mistakes, but I'm proud of them because I meant well. Who cares that I've hurt people, sold myself short, or reaped consequences? I meant well. And no one is perfect." No, no one is perfect, but I'm going to keep trying to be, if you don't mind; and I'm sorry for my mistakes. If I meant well, that only shows a lack of wisdom on my part….
I understand the good intentions behind motivational quotes, but after a point, they work against their own end. If all you ever hear is that you are fine the way you are, that you should be as different from everyone else as you can, that following your heart is the most important thing in the whole world – you start to fall short even of what you yourself want for yourself. You stop striving for more; stop striving for a better you, for unity with creation, for wisdom and righteousness.
I've mentioned before that affirmation drives me crazy because it feels extravagant and fake. It's kind of the same thing going on here. These are great ideas to ponder over, but I cringe whenever I see people gluing their lives to them. When people are married to quotes that glorify these shallow ideas, I want to cry. These people are on a road to self-destruction, and I'm also finding them very hard to get along with. Some people get a long way on these things, I realize, but I can't help but wonder what kind of existence that is.
Not to mention that psychology says that it rarely helps to overly build up the ego. It often has the opposite effect ultimately.
I'm all for bettering self-images and improving society's message, but something subtler and more penetrating and better balanced would be so much better.
Loneliness has been gripping my soul. With less than a week before my return trip to college, my longing for my friends has increased thirtyfold. I can't wait to see their faces and hear their voices. I can't wait to actually do all the things we've promised to do.
My friends may never understand even an inkling of how much they mean to me. As a life-long loner, it's amazing to have people texting me – even Skyping me! – over the summer. Seventh through twelfth grade, I could have been the poster child for the people who say homeschoolers aren't properly socialized. And in my whole life, I've had maybe five or six friends – in recollection – and only one at a time. The fact that I have so many different people interested in befriending me at one time is amazing.
If only I could express these feelings. Those that want to hear it, wouldn't understand their depth. Those that would take it, would try to sympathize or would be embarrassed and uncomfortable. Some would not like being so serious long enough to hear.
But perhaps there are other ways to express my feelings. Perhaps words are not the best way. I think, maybe, these feelings that want to explode are meant to stay that way. By chance, maybe the barely bridled gratitude and affection inside me would feel tainted, deflated once let out in minced, jumbled phrases. More likely, such feelings were meant to build – further constructed with every hug and good word, better fortified with every trial, magnified until unfading, preserved even after long separation in our happy thoughts and cherished memories. Never to be described.
I fear the day when I have to go away. These four years will truly be the time of my life. It could well be that I may find friends after college and find a cute little community for myself in a small town somewhere…. But never will I live in a community so close and available… never will it be so beautiful and open… never will it be a large Catholic community, all talking about anything that comes to mind without reserve or awkwardness…. I will truly miss all these dear characters in my life. For never have I been so anxious to be with people who scared me so much.
I'm only going into my second year of college; I know I'm a bit premature; but if there's one thing I thrive on, it's deliberating on notions long before their time.
And I truly will miss the people who are helping me get so far. Without them, I would never have known my fears as I do now – I would never have grown so much. I would never have embraced such terror with so much anticipation.
It is my fervent prayer that I will find someone among them who will not want to move on without me. We can go away from there together, and support each other in the separation. I can let my love for him grow to insurmountable heights, and I never need explain anything; for I'll live my unfading feelings – forever.
Hated this episode. I thought Rory was a bit out of character with how he was handling the divorce, Amy's reason was stupid, and duh Rory loves her more!! …And the Daleks are making less and less sense these days….
Night Terrors
This episode was just weird. Although it had a cute family message in the end, the episode was just a little off. For one, it was better suited for an episode where the Doctor is traveling on his own. Amy and Rory were kind of unnecessary. I was that kid who imagined her own world because she felt alone – so that premise fascinated me, but the episode was weird. It was just weird.
There are so many episodes that I disliked for one reason or another, and it's hard to narrow it down and just talk about the ones that I honestly didn't like all over.
Voyage of the Damned
To be fair, I've only seen this episode once, and I was trying to introduce a friend to the show at the time, so I was disappointed that her first episode wasn't better. But my memory tells me that tons of people died dramatically, unnecessarily, and seemingly just because the writers wanted it to be sad and for the Doctor to be devastated.
Amy's Choice
There's nothing wrong with this, per se, I just didn't really enjoy it. It was trying to pit Rory and the Doctor against each other, and yet it wasn't trying to do that, and it was trying to say that if the Doctor was not on the side of the angels (if I may borrow that line from Sherlock) he would be like this dream dude, and the conflict between what Amy wanted and what Rory wanted was pushed but not opened. It was like a bunch of issues were touched on but not confronted or solved.
ALSO! In the last installment, I forget to mention tons of Rory moments which are absolutely my favorite. But I won't list them – just know, he's awesome.
If I'm crying
If I'm moody
If I'm tired
If I'm cranky
If I'm closed off and dejected
Pray for me
If I'm driving too fast
If I never remove my glasses
If I never wear my glasses
Pray for me
If I'm staring into space
If I'm making a face
If I'm going around in haste
If I'm mean
If I look green
If I'm making a scene
Pray for me
Because that's not me
I know I am a fool
I know I make you mad
I know I should be better
I know I'm always sad
I know I try too hard
I know it's not enough
I know that I am lost
Inside my head of fluff
If you see me anywhere
If you see me with anyone
If you see me laughing
If you see me on the edge of crying
If you see me with my head down
If you see me slinking around
If you don't see me at all, please
Pray for me
I just finished off the last of the popcorn I made by rubbing it in the extra salt in the bottom of the popper. My mouth was on fire from the excess of salt. If for no other reason than that, I'm staying up to chew gum and sort of "purge" my mouth before I get ready for bed.
I found out that, contrary to my proud assumptions, my zucchini, squash, and pumpkin plants were infested by borer insects. I was very sorry to see that. I considered trying to save them, but I just won't have time for that kind of surgery – plus the intensive care required after that. So after taking a closer look at the zucchini plants, which had only produced two fruit and then seemed to give up, I pulled them out. Much of the squash was in such a state that I gave up any idea of salvaging any of it, although they were producing well. Everything except the Butternut squash is now gone (Butternut was bred for resistance against these pests). I was grateful to find that not every pumpkin plant was affected, however, so I performed surgery on the ones I thought were worth saving, and they are now in the IC unit, so to speak, which means close watching, and careful watering, and meticulous protection against adverse weather conditions.
Check out THIS website for details on the pests I'm talking about. Today, I also saw the second bug mentioned, so I'm anxious to do something about that….
I've only got a little over a week before I go back to Franciscan University. I'm really looking forward to it.
Speaking of which, I was at work at the barn this morning, and when I went to get paid, Mrs. Contryman said, "I don't suppose you need a fridge. For college or anything?" I jumped at the opportunity. Yes, I need a fridge! It needs to be cleaned, but now I have a fridge for college! Sometimes I have to be reminded that God does indeed provide.
This has been a busy week, and next week is going to be busy as well. And then there'll be the stress of getting to and moving into and adjusting to college. But it's going to be great. It's simply going to be a fantastic year.
The first principle is always: Dim the Lights! Keep his mind darkened. Those stupid vermin will dance like fleas around issues of sexual morality, complexifying the simplest questions and rationalizing their answers with incredible dexterity – all because we keep their mind off the first and simplest truth: that the Enemy has written the world's simplest sex manual for them, with only two commands in it. First, "be fruitful and multiply". Sex is His invention. Second, "thou shalt not commit adultery". No sex outside marriage, before or after. In it, the more, the merrier.
…
When he thinks of his own desires, due to the work of our agents, he, like most Americans, confuses his "needs" with his "wants" and thus is convinced that his great sexual wants equal great sexual needs. Of course this is nonsense; he has water needs but not sex needs. He'd die without water, but not without sex. But he doesn't want to notice that fact.
Anberlin
"I wanna be your last first kiss"
1 John 3:2-3
Beloved, we are God's children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. Everyone who has this hope based on him makes himself pure, as he is pure.
Annie Lennox
beautiful lyrics in this song
"What do you see on the horizon?"
"The ships have come to carry you home."
Emiliana Torrini
"We can never go home."
Adam Lambert
very sad and moving lyrics
"No one wants to dig that deep."
"A red river of screams – underneath – tears in my eyes – underneath – stars in my black and blue sky – underneath – under my skin – underneath – the depths of my sin – Look at me – Now do you see?"
Freeing Yourself From Anxiety: The Four-Step Plan to Overcome Worry and Create the Life You Want – by Tamar E. Chansky, PhD
Choose the voice of your internal [emotional] GPS. It could be someone you know, like a trusted friend or adviser, or someone you don't know, like a celebrity or character from a film or novel. Picture in your mind that person calmly or comically letting you know that you can "turn around as soon as possible," reminding you that it's okay to get back on your track and not get detoured farther by that emotional wrong turn. Write it on a sign to stick over your workstation or desk. The more you remember that turning around is an option, and a good one, the sooner you'll take advantage of it.
Before I start, I should mention that I'm not from Arizona….
The more I listen to this song, the more I get it.
But I've decided I have a problem.
Anxiety.
Serious, uncontrollable, irrational anxiety.
If you go back to March of this year, the results of my anxiety drench the stuff I wrote during that month. There was this boy, and he seemed nice. I didn't have any interest in him beyond that, but it seemed pretty obvious that he was interested in me. For the first time in my life, I began to wonder… how would I feel about dating?
But very early on, he made me feel as though my own troubles were insignificant compared to his. I was so innocent and good compared to him. And after some time of that (which seems fairly normal with boys), I began to feel even worse. I'm terribly shy, and he was so not. I've since begun to believe that his loud behavior may stem from his own inner embarrassment and need for attention. But I can't be sure…. Because I freaked.
It wasn't long before I began to feel as though I wouldn't be good enough for him. I began to think that I needed to be just as he was in order to keep him from moving on. I was so scared that he would get bored with me. So I pushed myself. I didn't trust him, but I acted like I did. I did things that normally would have been uncomfortable for me because I thought it was the kind of thing he wanted. I rationalized that these things required a give-and-take. He was constantly on my mind as I tried to figure out what to do to please him and I did a lot of crying and dwelling in depression.
Now to be fair to myself, the case he made for himself wasn't good. He gave me plenty of reason to doubt. But if I had just been cool, we both might have been able to come out of it unscathed and perfectly okay.
What kills me is I was that girl. I was that girl that he probably talked about to other people, even other girls, saying how clingy I was, and begging for advice. And that's what kills me. I was a b****. And I hope for your sake that's the only time I use that word on my blog, but unfortunately, it's true.
What opened my mind to all this?
A day without a single text message.
All summer long, I've been texting this friend of mine nearly every day. We've always been pretty good friends, and I've always felt amazingly comfortable with him (especially considering he's a guy). We just get along swimmingly.
But a few days ago, he didn't text me.
I was in the basement, going through my boxes and re-packing for college. I had my computer open and I was watching "The Sarah Jane Adventures" on YouTube, accompanied by my little sister. I was busy doing things, so I didn't think to text him and it didn't both me too much that he hadn't texted me.
But the next day, I was sure to text him as soon as I got out of my dentist appointment. It was after two in the afternoon, which is right around when we usually start texting, so I texted him.
Our conversation that day was very sparse. We each sent only about five or six messages that afternoon. That's very unusual. But there's nothing wrong with that, right?
By this time, everything inside me was screaming out in a panic. My reason was telling me – indeed, I was telling me to chill out. There is nothing wrong just because we aren't feeling very talkative for a couple of days. There is even evidence that we'll recover! This was not the first time such things had happened and yet everything was still perfectly fine between us (although I freaked out every single time). What's more, our relationship is soooo healthy and natural. It is devoid of flirting or games or pity parties, but even so, we're pretty comfortable talking about what's bothering us.
But that little bit of me that made sense wasn't convincing the rest of me. The rest of me was divided between searching for excuses for him and bracing myself to let him go. I thought, "What if he never texts me again? We had such a promising semester ahead of us. So many plans to watch movies and study for our class together. What of those plans now?" I spent too much time fighting off depression as helplessness and hopelessness and loneliness swept over me. I began envisioning a future for myself on this trajectory, after I've lost all my friends, living alone on a farm, fighting off depression all by my self for the rest of my life, unable to make or keep friends. I am not making any of this up. And all because of two days.
Don't get me wrong. It's not because I saw a "future" for "us." …I have no idea what's in store. I was freaking out because I was losing a friend, like all my close friends before him.
Well, the day after that, he texted me and things went on as usual!
My meltdown, hidden from all those around me (but unfortunately not from me), was not because I truly believed it would happen. It was a response that has apparently been programmed into me and is unavoidable. Nothing I did or told myself convinced me that everything was fine. I was cool and calm on the outside, but a raving lunatic on the inside. In March, this feeling drove me to badger the other guy with texts and ask him if everything was okay.
Who doesn't see this as a problem, raise your hand.
And I believe that my depression ultimately stems from this anxiety. It makes so much more sense now! I have had numerous theories about my moodiness – all plausible, just needing more observation of my behavior to better understand – but they all left some questions unanswered. This is the one answer that makes the most sense. I am fundamentally fearful that I will find myself alone when all is said and done.
And I've always known of my loneliness and admitted my great obsession to please. My awareness of my anxiety has slowly been growing over the past few months until this last great leap.
There have been times when I've contemplated seeing someone about my depression, but I've never quite made up my mind. I seemed to be gaining some control over my depression so I figured maybe it would be pointless to go to a professional. But my depression was just a symptom of something much deeper.
So now I have to consider seeing someone about anxiety.
Now that I pinpointed it, I might be able to make progress on my own. This is not a decision I'm going to make lightly. First of all, like I said, I'm cool and calm on the outside. Very few people even notice when I'm going through these things, which is usually because I get depressed and subtly draw away from people. The one time I discussed depression with my mother, she was extremely skeptical. But according to my best friend, I was a mess in March, even though she didn't understand why. And secondly, I would feel a lot better if I could conquer this on my own. I've seen what labels and counseling do to some people – it's kind of like, even though they're "working on it," they're at peace with it. Upon hearing that it's something they can't help and that they'll have to correct it over time, they kind of settle into it. But I don't want to be at peace with it; I want to wage intense, violent war on it.
But I'm not ruling out professional help. I'm going to do some research and reflection. No hasty decisions here. Once I get other people involved, there's no backing out.
And the friend that I've been texting this summer, reads me really well. He kind of picked up on my anxiety troubles without me saying it right out, so I know I can talk to him about it. And there are a few other friends at school that I really trust and I know would be open to talking about this.
Do you have any thoughts? Do you think this is as serious that it may warrant professional help? Or do you think I'm over-thinking things again?
"There is no objective truth." I mean, everything taught in school is just taught so that you can later reject it. Whenever you ask a question, the answer is simply the answer that your mentor likes to believe. If "there is no objective moral truth," that explains why the jails are empty and the globe is one big family, each individual holding nothing against the other.
Okay, so obviously, there is objective truth. There is objective moral truth. And that means that there is only one way to live. Stealing is either right or wrong. Killing is either right or it's wrong. Bullying is either harmless or it's bad. Abuse is either helpful or it's very, very hurtful.
So there is one way of life. I won't tell you what is it here; that's not my drive.
My drive is at the concept of having one way to live, but having many types. For example, there are the "Mother Theresa"s, and there are the the "Dorothy Day"s, and there are the "Little Flower"s and the type of person that lives just down the street, volunteering at soup kitchens and donating to charity. There is missionary work to be done – but it can be as abnormal and far-flung as going to a third world country, or as routine and ordinary as giving to those in need in your own community.
That understood, is there only one type of person? Is each objective-truth-possessing individual a carbon copy of each other? No, obviously, so should they be?
Well, I think of it this way. "Bob" is a straightforward person with a gentle voice and tender compassion. Working with those who have been hurt might be right up his alley. "Kent" is an active person with endless energy and extra batteries in his mouth motor. He likes to say it as it is and preach, preach, preach. Sometimes the truth blinds him to the tenderness a soft soul might need for healing. He's probably more suited for conferences and mission trip talks, and so on.
And likewise, my friends who like to be everywhere at once and share everything that comes into their heads in the name of "testimony" are entitled to so. Some people need friends like that – friends that are open and that challenge you to go to new distances. But if you are, like me, a quieter soul that likes to hold back a little, there's nothing wrong with that either. Some are intimidated by people who tell too much.
So, one way. Many types.
If people could just learn that, I think we'd all be understood a little better.
I would like to present Banrion An Gheimhridh (from Climbing the Alpine Path) with the BestCommenter Award for her frequent and relevant comments. Last month, her comments topped all others. Her comments outnumbered all others combined, and what she had to say was thought-provoking and helpful. She connected what she read with her own experience, and was kind enough to share those thoughts.
So without further ado, Banrion An Gheimhridh, I offer you, in gratitude, the Best Commenter Award, in hopes that you will accept it and, I hope, find someone else you can bestow the award upon.
There are only a few simple rules:
Should you choose to accept the award, you will always have the power to pass it on to other outstanding commenters like yourself.
In addition, at the beginning of next month, evaluate the comments of this current month and graciously present the Best Commenter Award to the person that commented the most often. Give a testimony of their greatness and, if they are also a blogger, link to their blog. (This is a one time obligation and you will not be expected to repeat this every month for the rest of your blogging career.)
Optional: give an acceptance speech on your own blog and leave a link in the comments below!
Favorite episodes and favorite scenes/moments The first episode that comes to mind is one that I watched recently (or rather heard – my sister was watching it in the backseat): Silence in the Library and Forest of the Dead – it's well done on many counts. It's mysterious, River Song remarkably resembles the character that she develops into, it's written well, and the acting is superb. That isn't to say that it's perfect… but it's not bad. The Doctor, the Widow, and the Wardrobe – One of my absolute favorites. Every time I sit down to see it, I figure that I've got everything I can get out of it already, so sit tight for this again. But it never leaves me feeling that way. It's too cute. When the Doctor and Martha find out about the Face of Bo is another one of my favorite moments, simply because it made him so much more important. Suddenly he was more than… well, what he was. I loved who that character was. I also really loved some of the quirkier Christopher Eccleston moments. Such as his dancing in "The End of the World," and his "I can dance! I can dance!" as well as many moments in "The Empty Child." "The Empty Child" is also one of my favorite episodes.
BanrÃon An Gheimhridh named many episodes that are on my list as well; she really exhausted herself on this list! I can't say I'm going to do the same, but check out hers! ~Meggy
There's something I've noticed about circles in society and it baffles me and drives me crazy. There seems to be a tendency for a circle to pick out a few people to be the benefit of their direction. I feel like it's probably those people in the circle that aren't quite the same as the rest of the circle. It's the mother who isn't as strict with her children when they're fresh with her; it's the mother who is never more than a cry away while everyone else thinks that some separation is healthy.
For me, I feel like I'm either the girl who isn't loose enough, or who's too innocent, or who's too prissy. This bothers me, because when I'm in a group of friends who are essentially all that as well – I can see our similarity, but I don't click with them and I find myself getting bored. I enjoy their company, but not all the time. I'm a little bit more on the wild side, I guess, and yet I don't enjoy certain jokes, I haven't watched horror movies and don't follow pop culture, and I don't open up well.
So far as that covers, there is absolutely nothing wrong with me. Except for the problems that I have with depression and anxiety and the fact that I'm shy, I have lines that I don't feel like crossing.
These lines aren't like lines between holiness and mortal sin; it's way, way simpler than that. And yet not, in a way. I don't find jokes about sex and boy parts (or girl parts) to be in the least funny, and I'm baffled by those who do find it funny. I don't look at pictures of men with their shirts off (some do it and compare it to something like looking at pictures of girls in gorgeous dresses) and I don't care what Britney Spears is doing or what new trivia is out on Brad Pitt. I'm not saying that having a casual interest in your favorite performers is bad, but I really don't need to hear about the latest scandal about someone I already didn't look up to. And I can't argue dead against it, because some people do need to know (for various reasons) – but I don't. I don't need to know and I don't care to know. It's not important to me in the least.
I feel that I should speak my mind about the crude jokes, but that's not really the point.
The point is that I'm sometimes labeled as a kind of opportunity for charity. I either need to be dragged to social events, shown certain movies, told about certain things, or exposed to certain phrases and worldly perspectives.
…I'm a simple girl. I grew up in a small town in New England. This is a poor town and the school system (middle school and high school) is regionalized – and it's our kids that are the "hillbillies" (from what I know). We have a Unitarian church and a Congregational church in the center of town, Sunday preaching on the town common, and Sanctuary Worship in the gym of our public elementary school (the last two are recent additions, but that's the kind of town I live in). We have two gas stations – one in the middle of town and one on the outskirts near the "city" next to us. We have a town market, and that's where you go if you want to know what's going on in town – just look at the flyer-plastered windows. We have quite a bit of farmland and lots of farmhouses. But we also have areas of new development.
That's the town I live in. I grew up simple, under parents that aren't much interested in the craziness of the pop culture – or indeed, in the craziness of much of the outside world.
So be gentle, I beg you.
I'm interested in seeing some of the movies that I've missed out on, and I'm interested in getting to do things I've never done before, and I'm interested in doing the things that I've never had opportunity to do before. But please. Just because I'm different doesn't mean I need your guidance.
I don't need you to say, again, that I need to push myself. You don't need to be so obviously amused at my expense when I'm not familiar with something. My nervousness and insecurity isn't your cue to affirm me.
Which is another thing – affirmation doesn't work. When people go out of their way to say, straight out and blunt, something really nice, it feels like flattery, not sincerity. It sounds like a statement carefully injected in order to artificially build up my self-esteem. It's not working.
If people could just learn that one way of life does not trump others, I think a lot more progress could be made.
What's the significance of Marcmire? Well, part of that is very secret. But part of it is easy to explain. It actually comes from a book I'm writing. The protagonist leaves Normurland for Marcmire partway through the book and it's there that she finds herself. And I find this blog and that place to be strikingly similar in purpose, meaning, and design. Hence, Marcmire.
It also means that I have to finish the book. How could I not, now that I'm using the name, eh? I almost feel that if I don't finish the book, the name would lose its substance.
So Marcmire.
Meggy of Marcmire. I kinda like it.
The name is not without its traps, and perhaps before long I will regret the name change. But as long as my blog is not mainstream and it is the "online book of me," its title may as well reflect me until I can find one that means the very heart of myself.
