Something that means so much to me.

There are so many things that mean a lot to me, but there are just a few things that I can never replace, and make me feel all warm inside. I'll go through the list: 1- A drawing from Sara: This is at the top of the list for a number of reasons. It was hand made, it includes the lyrics to our favorite song, and she gave it to me on the day that we had been together for 2 months. 2- My guitar: I just pour my emotions into the music. When Im happy I'll play something like Radioactive, by Imagine Dragons. And when I'm sad or angry I mostly play stuff by Disturbed, like Down With The Sickness or Asylum. 3- My bed: Any time I just want to be alone, I just shut my door and lay on my bed. That's all I got. Sorry my posts are so short, I just don't have enough time in my day to make a long post.

Life, The Door Of

I'm still unsure about this post, since [call me conceited] I like to think of my room as a little treasure cove of quirky washed-up artifacts of The Life Of Nate.  So, actually, choosing something was quite a challenge.  I was debating whether I should write something on the paper lantern I got in Belgium when I went to the Festival of Lights.  But, since I was seven then, I don't think I could do the story justice.  It's mostly just fuzzy images of a great bonfire full of dead Christmas trees and a plethora of pyromaniacs.  Or I could write about the little trinkets I have from all over the world, the statue my friends sent me from Turkey, the stuff my sister brought me from New Zealand and Belize, my bracelets from Africa and Haiti.  But most of these stories are short, or, to be honest, boring.  So I have decided to write about the favorite aspect of my bedroom.  That would be my closet door.  Which, to be fair, is not exactly 'one thing.'  I like to think of it as a mini-art gallery of The Life Of Nate.  Which is the reason I call it my Door Of Life.
I cannot rightly remember when I started the Door.  It started with a few pictures from my travels in Belgium and a picture of Medusa in gold pen my friend had drawn me [bless her].  It evolved from there, until it is what it is today - a mini reflection of me, and the people I love.  Basically, if you've ever given me anything remotely meaningful - a picture, card, token, etc - that can be stuck to a door, it's on my Door Of Life.  Poems my friends have written, quotes I love, pictures people have drawn me, post cards, photos, Doctor Who fanart.  A stamp with Audrey Hepburn on it my grandmother gave me.  The receipt I got when I purchased a print of the Mona Lisa from the Louvre.  Business cards I've collected from various places.  Magazine clippings.  The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg preside at the top, a tribute to my favorite literary metaphor.
I think the reason I love my Door Of Life so much is because it serves as a statement of how I view life.  Life is a door, splattered with meaning and friendship and images all held together with some kind of earthly sticky tack.  But what's behind the actual Door Of Life is not my closet.  I think I find it beautiful how no two people really believe the same thing about what's beyond the Door (obviously, as a Christian, I believe it's Heaven), we all have ideas, hopes, and expectations for what we'll find there.  What we'll find behind the faded items that cover our souls.

A rather blurry image, I apologize, and it doesn't really do it justice, but I hope this gives you an idea.  Cheers!

So, yeah, that's me trying to be deep while talking about my closet door.  I realize it's probably not all that interesting to anyone, so I'm keeping it short. ;)

Hope you all have a fantastic weekend.

Ciao!

^(OvO)^           

Lilly'sday (Interesting Acquisitions)

        HELLO EVERYONE I MISSED YOU THIS PAST WEEK <3 <3 <3 I would like to apologize for for being sooo late to post, right now i am in the middle of packing up my home so that i can move. This involves many steps that are... basically taking up all my time. In between packing, saying goodbye to my friends,what feels like stalking my soon to be home, and trying to keep any fraction of my sanity, i am a little busy. in fact i am writing this post in the middle of a booth at Panera, with an iced chi tea latte, stopping to breath for the first time in two day.


So, trailing BACK to our topic, Something in our room that means a lot to us. I thought this would be really hard for me because basically everything in my life is packed up into boxes that currently reside in a storage unit. Then i realized that i hadn't packed the things that where really important to me yet.

-The stuffed elephant (Ellie) that I was given the day i was born by some family friends. That poor little dude has been through so much and i dont know how he hasnt lost any limbs.

-A Dream Catcher My friend Ellen had made for me for my 13th birthday, I had posted a DIY I really wanted to do on FB, but i never had anytime to do it. Then on my birthday she made me one that was 2,000 times better then one i could have EVER made!

-A GIANT (perfect size for hugging) stuffed hello kitty (She is my favorite) given to me by my best friend Virginia for Valentines Day. I almost cried when she gave it to me, i know thats stupid, but it meant the world to me.

-A Scarf she made me as a going away present (made of my favorite colors). It gets pretty cold up there (Burr)

- And There's A box full of little things (Ticket stubs, pieces of art from friends, little gifts) from the past 6 years. (THE BOX IS HUGE AND ITS JAMMED FULL OF STUFF!!!)


All of those things mean more to me then my record player, my tv, my type writer, and maybe even my beloved bed.

But OBVIOUSLY not as much as my computer ;P Just Kidding!!!!! (Kinda)

Lilly <3

My One and Only Brush With Fame

I won't lie.

I've got some kick-butt stuff in my room.

Including but not in any way limited to: posters, useless knick-knacks, a giant stuffed cow, a typewriter, etc. 

And this light switch.

But I've acquired most of these things from rather mundane places. Wally World. Mail order. Random antique stores and flea markets I stumble into.The only thing with an interesting story behind it is wedged between the books on my shelves, inside the front cover of Walk Two Moons.

Firstly, one of my favorite authors of all time is Sharon Creech. I've read nearly all of her books, and as a wee tot, lived and breathed her stories. Her characters are brilliant and everything naturally intertwines in simple and lovely ways. One day, struck with a chronic boredom that hung over me as darkly as the plague, I decided to take action and take my day into my own hands. Which meant I did some hardcore research on the internet in the form of consulting the almighty Google “what to do when bored”. And benevolently, the search engine bestowed answers upon my weary soul. “Write a letter to your favorite author!” And I was all like mmkay. So I did.

I said all the usual things. Ur books r gud. How do u write gud? Ur kewl. Write back plz kthxbai. I slapped a stamp on that piece of practical literary genius and shipped it off into the unknown, completely unsure if the hour or so I'd spent constructing it would be a total waste of time.

Several months later on a similarly dreary, boring day, I received a response in the mail. Lo and behold, heavens above, my name was on the envelope and hers up in the left hand corner, written by hand with the same fingers that had typed out some of my favorite novels of all time. I tore it open with mad fervor, disbelieving that this could actually be happening, someone I really admired and who had won various Newbery awards had written a letter to me, some random kid who was really bored and had nothing better to do but hope for it, man I was excited.

To be honest, I was a bit let-down when I gutted the envelope and frantically looked over its contents. It was a form letter, a generic response to the fan mail she received, covering all the basic answers to the regular things a little kid with a pen might have to say/ask of her in a letter. Everything I asked her. But I was  overjoyed nonetheless, because she signed all the little papers inside and wrote me a little note at the top of one page:

“Hi, Elizabeth-

Thanks so much for your great letter—I hope this and the enclosed sites answer your questions. Good luck w/ your writing!”

So. Pretty good, for an eleven-year-old kid.

Months passed. I got bored again. But a couple of Sharon Creech books fixed an afternoon of that, and her book The Castle Corona gave me so many happyfeels all I wanted was a sequel. I was desperate for one. So I was all like “POWER TO THE PEOPLE” and wrote her again, asking if she would ever consider expanding her fantastic book in the form of a continuation in a series? I highly suspected it was not to be, but at least I would know, if she decided to answer this annoying little kid who kept pestering her.

Less time than before passed before I received a response in the mail. It wasn't another hefty envelope, but a postcard with a cute little polar bear stamp, and it felt more personal this way because everything had been written by pen this time. By “everything” I mean my address and the couple of sentences she scribbled down, but that was enough to make me explode with joy.

“14 Dec '11

Dear Elizabeth-

Thank you for your beautiful letter. Although I hadn't planned to write a sequel to Castle Corona- you never know!

xxSharon Creech”

So yeah. This is the closest brush with fame I've ever had. I keep all of the papers inside their original envelope and in the front cover of the first book of hers I read. Hey. Could be valuable, someday. Not that I'd ever sell my precious correspondence.

Have a fantastic week,

Elizabeth

P.S. The only other real interesting thing I have with 

something of a little backstory are these two posters. One my dad rescued from being thrown out in Quebec City, and the other came from a tiny little festival in Florida. They look pretty similar, don't they? I think they're really awesome. XD

I tried to be deep. I really did.

So today is Monday and I completely forgot that one of the things I must do on Mondays is write a blog post. 

That just exudes responsibility doesn’t it.     I mean, I took Monday as my day thinking I could be okay with kicking off the week like a boss.   HAHA. 

So this week, the topic is for us to write about the most interesting way we acquired something that is in our bedrooms. 

This, of course, has caused me to spiral downward into a pit of questioning just how interesting the things that are in my room might be. 

I mean, I can usually trace everything in my room back to a wal-mart, a mall, or to a gift shop from somewhere... or Amazon.com.   

I am also afraid of making my post, and then three days later finding something in my room that is actually interesting. It’s like when you see a word for the first time, and then start seeing it everywhere because you are now self aware of the fact that it exists or something. 

That is what I think is going to wind up happening to me here. 

I have to wonder if I don’t have exactly what every other person on this blog has. 

There are the expected knick knacks, and other things I have collected over time...you know, being a human and all. 

I have things from family, from friends, and things whose origin has all but slipped my mind. 

I have things I wish I didn’t have, as well as memories of others that I wish still had a physical embodiment. 

My glances around this space from the perch that is my bed leave me to assume that maybe the lack of stories behind these items says more than actually having a story about something, because if we have something, shouldn’t we be able to justify it by its stories. Maybe it doesn’t even posses the stories. Maybe it just is like a vessel for them to float upon until we pluck it up out of the pond that is our shelves to retrieve the tale for a bit.

I think that at some point, in putting these tales back, we muddle them up just enough so that when our next visitor comes ‘round, we’ll have a slightly refreshed version to tell.  

I do have a stuffed butterfly named Flitter that I got at a Wal-Mart McDonalds when Beanie Babies were the craze, and then I lost it at a Wal-Mart for a few hours not long after.    Still have it. About 2 feet away from me.    

That’s all I can think of to post. 

Trying to be deep and thoughtful isn’t fun when you have a headache. 

-Ranger