Guess who?

*tiptoes in*

Hello? Anyone? Remember me?

To begin, the obligatory apology and explanation … I just have not been able to get it together enough to post lately. I don’t even know, y’all. Being an English major has sucked all the fun out of writing, even for my blog. But I have been reading lots of other blogs and getting many many new bloggy-type ideas, so look for at least semi-regular posts to start up SOON! YAY!

Okay, to get all caught up:

• My health is amazing right now, you guys. I can’t remember when I’ve ever felt so good. The Crohn’s is completely controlled with Remicade once a month and a few tweaks to my diet here and there. Last month I had a colonoscopy (put that off as long as you can, trust me) and my doc confirmed that I am in remission, which means that most days it’s almost like there’s nothing wrong at all. There’s no way to know how long I’ll stay in remission – some people struggle and never quite get there, and some people stay there for years with no problems. But, of course, I prefer to focus on feeling good right now instead of the possibility that I might not tomorrow.

• School ended last month and with it what was probably my best semester ever – my class load wasn’t too heavy, I didn’t have any literature classes for the first time ever and I can’t tell you how enjoyable that was, I didn’t have to take any finals at all AND AND AND I got my best grades since freshman year. Now how ‘bout them apples? I brought up my GPA a smidge, and if I can keep that going I really won’t have to stress out over getting into a graduate program. I also walked in graduation in May, which felt really weird. It was kind of like a kid playing dress-up in Mommy’s clothes; I felt vaguely impostor-like. But, I walked across the stage and didn’t fall, so that was fun. I’m not completely done yet though, I’ll still be in college doing undergrad work in the fall, and then I’ll graduate really for real in December.

• Most of you already know this part I think, but just for the heck of it – I got myself a man. Trying to reign in the urge to gush too much I’ll simply say that we met through an online dating site and have been together for just over two months, and I think he’s kind of awesome.

So! That’s the past three months in a nutshell. What’s up with you?

For my next post I’m working on two lists: short-term goals, which I've done before but this one will be more funner, and a “bucket list.” I think this will be fun. Have any of you ever made a bucket list? Join me and let’s all share; maybe you’ll think of something I need to add to mine!

The longest two weeks EVAR

I feel like the turtle.

Two weeks left of class, y'all, and on the one hand it feels like this has been the longest semester ever OMG, and on the other hand it feels like it's actually passed pretty quickly. I'm ready for a break, I must say. I've been thinking about the summer quite a bit, and what I want to try to accomplish ... I'm so bad for making grandiose plans and not doing a single thing I planned ... one thing that must happen, I must go to Texas. If I do nothing else, this must happen. Non-negotiable. Besides that, I'm building my reading list, I'd like to get out of this not-writing slump ... get caught up on my friends' stories ... that sort of thing. Mainly just take it easy, do some things that I enjoy, things that are restful. To chillax, one might say. That's fun to think about. So that's what's on my mind this morning.

Grades are looking a tad iffy as we near the end of the semester, but I'm hoping for B's across the board. English Lit and I are just never going to get along, I've decided. Creative Writing was a bust. Everything else should be fairly decent though. Like I said, I want a B. I'll be happy with that. Then we can get on with the summer and everybody can just chill the heck out. Sounds good to me.

*Lolcats picture found at icanhascheezburger.com

Memories

So ... I've been dying to write lately. Like, really really dying. Plus I have this creative writing: fiction class and we have to write 3 short stories to turn in. I've been getting impatient to get a brilliant idea and get something written down.

So, this weekend something came to me and I actually got right up and wrote it down, which is something new and exciting for me. I even procrastinate the good things.

I wrote this little piece, which is about what I remember from the day my grandfather died. I don't know where the idea came from, but I wrote it a little differently ... from third-person, and exactly as I remember it even though I know I don't remember everything accurately. When I remember those events, it's like watching a movie. I see myself going about doing things and interacting with people, instead of remembering myself actually doing it.

And it occurred to me that this is something of a recurring theme in my writing in general. This makes the third piece I've written about my grandfather. I can only assume I write about him so much because his death was one of the most significant events in my life, and it affected me in some crazy ways. Writing is cathartic for me since I can't ever express myself as well verbally as I do in writing, so I guess writing about it is a good thing.

Anyway, now I have a dilemma. I wrote this with the intention of turning it in to my creative writing teacher, but technically it isn't fiction. I could always pass it off as such, of course, but I probably will take creative writing: nonfiction next semester, if it's offered. So do I turn it in now or save it? I can't decide, so I'm posting it. Read if you want, let me know what you think.

It's a depressing subject matter, FYI. I know, duh, but I just thought I'd mention it. My frame of mind has been a little on the dark side this weekend. It's this fanfic I've been immersed in, which also has a character with a very dirty mouth, and consequently I've found myself randomly wanting to drop the F-bomb for the last two days. The person responsible for this, you know your blame.

Here goes. This piece is currently untitled.
**************************************************************************
The girl lay in bed and stared at the sun coming through the gauzy white curtains and making the pale orange walls impossibly brighter. She felt lightheaded, a little confused, almost panicking but not quite. She couldn’t wipe her friend’s words from her mind, the first thing she’d heard when she answered the ringing phone that had awoken her.

Hey, I heard your grandfather died last night.

And her immediate denial. No, he didn’t.

The line went quiet after that. The friend mumbled something and quickly hung up. She blindly set her cell phone back on the table beside her bed and lay unmoving a moment longer, but sleep was nowhere to be found now.

She was reluctant to get up, but she was too tense to lie there any longer. She had to move, had to feel like she was doing something. Above all else, she hated to feel helpless.
She padded down the carpeted hall into the kitchen and searched for something to eat even though she wasn’t really hungry. The house was quiet, and the silence was somehow ominous. She knew her sister was at school and her parents at work, but still the hush felt wrong.

And she knew. Her grandfather had died during the night, and no one had told her. They probably hadn’t wanted to wake her for that. And on top of that, her friend probably thought she was a freak.

She fought the panic rising in her chest, to no avail. Tears pooled in her eyes and she looked around the kitchen frantically, as if searching for something. As if a confirmation of her fears would be written on the tan painted wall or the green countertop.

Her eyes fell on the cordless phone sitting on the island in the middle of the kitchen and she grabbed for it as a drowning man would a lifeline. With trembling fingers she dialed her mother’s office number; the voice that answered wasn’t the one she wanted to hear. Her mom had just left, and was heading home.

This was bad. It was all the confirmation she needed. Why else would her mom leave work so early?

It would only take her about ten minutes to get home from her office, but it felt more like ten hours to the girl pacing in front of the door. She watched her mother’s red car pull up in front of the house and her heart jumped in her throat. All of a sudden she was nervous.
The door opened and no words were needed. She fell into her mother’s arms, sobbing. Her mother said something, trying to give comfort through her own tears, but later the girl hadn’t the faintest clue what she’d said.

She dressed quickly, not even looking in the mirror, and left with her mother to pick up her sister from school early. They agreed to tell the ten-year-old nothing until they got home. The girl wondered how she would keep the tears at bay that long.

Somehow she succeeded and the little girl was none the wiser, excited at the novelty of going home mid-morning. She chattered happily from the front seat while the older girl sat in the back, trying to cry silently.

Their dad was waiting for them at home. He’d been called to his father’s bedside the night before, and he told them how it had all happened: how they knew it was the end, how calm it had been, how the sores covering his body had strangely faded in death, going away once they had claimed his life. He only broke down once in the telling. The girl thought it was strange that he could sit and relate the story so calmly.

An irrational part of her felt hurt she hadn’t been there. She remembered the last time she’d spoken to her grandfather and he hadn’t even known who she was. She remembered waking up in the middle of the night in the quiet of her dorm room crying, begging God. Please don’t take him yet. Please, we need him. Please. She remembered every hug, and wished she’d had more. She remembered the way he smelled. She remembered the sound of his voice leading the family in song. She remembered so many things he’d said, so many things he’d taught her. She remembered the day they found out the strange sores he’d mentioned in passing were cancer. She remembered every sight of the emaciated, weak man who had once seemed bigger than life.

She dreaded the thought of the funeral to come. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it together, and doubted anyone else would fare much better. She couldn’t imagine having the whole family together without her grandfather. It wouldn’t feel right. She wondered if she would ever be able to stop crying.

Two days later she was in a hotel room, getting dressed, fussing with her impossible curls, loaning her sister earrings. She had picked the black dress with orange flowers. She knew the heels would be killing her feet inside of an hour. She adjusted the black sweater until it hung just right. She stared at herself in the mirror. Eyeliner probably wasn’t a good idea … What the hell, she raged internally. It may have been stupid, but she wanted to look nice for her grandfather one last time. He always liked seeing everyone dressed up, always enjoyed the sight of his granddaughters in pretty dresses. She always had to be doing something, and here was something she could do for him. She applied her makeup meticulously, taking especial care with her eyes, her best feature. She made sure to put on the treble clef-shaped earrings as another private tribute to her musical grandfather. She primped until she knew she looked her best. No matter what sort of a mess she was on the inside, it wouldn’t show on the outside.

Later she looked back and realized the two days during which the funeral and burial took place were mostly a blur. She couldn’t really remember details. Everything was a little fuzzy, and her memories seemed as if she were outside her body watching herself. What she did remember, she couldn’t be sure it was accurate.

She never stopped crying. The tears periodically dried up, but they were always there, waiting to be triggered. Anything might do it, and usually at the most inconvenient times. To her surprise she found that she could still smile, could still laugh, could still enjoy life. The unfairness of it all grated, and probably always would. She never sang a song without remembering him. A year passed, then two … and she found that he was never really gone. She knew as long as she remembered him, he would live. The tears and the memories were bittersweet. She would take what she could get.

'Fraidy-Cat

Well, it's nearly 1 in the morning and I'm still awake. You know what that means.

I've been thinking too much.

Yesterday I turned 21. It was a pretty good day, classes hadn't started yet so I didn't have much to do and that was nice. But 21 ... it's got me thinking about the future again. The near future, the not-so-near future ... you get the picture.

21 is kind of wigging me out. It's such a milestone, people have been saying things like, "21! Wow! What are you going to do?" Well, I didn't do much of anything special for my birthday itself, just hung out with my family. I haven't really been all that anxious to do anything I needed to be legal to do anyway, so it wasn't a big deal. But that last question, that "what are you going to do?" That's the biggie.

Because I'm hyper-analytical, so I take it somewhere faaaar from where it began. What am I going to do? Where do I want to go? Who do I want to be? Hitting this milestone reminded me how close I am to graduating from college. That is just ridiculous to think of - I am getting ready to graduate from college. Not just like, sometime, but in the actual foreseeable future. It's really happening.

That thought - that I'm going to graduate from college - quite frankly scares the shit out of me. Because ever since I was 4, I've been in school, in Williamsburg. I was in one building for kindergarten through 12th grade, and my college is just down the street from that. Now I'll be going to grad school, away somewhere. Whether I stay somewhere close by or go halfway across the country, I'll be away. I won't know my way around campus, I won't have known most of my teachers from childhood, I won't have my parents nearby if I need anything. For the first time in my life, I'll really be on my own.

Now this is exciting. I think about getting an apartment, maybe a pet, that kind of stuff. That will be fun. But it's scary when I think about being on my own. I've never been on my own. Even here at college, I live in the dorms but I live with someone I've known since I was in middle school. My family is here, I can go home whenever I want. I know this town, I know these people. There is a security here I know I will miss when I leave. That's what's scary. I'll really have to completely take care of myself. Part of me is ready to rise to the challenge, while part of me wants to stay here always, where it's familiar and safe.

I don't take change well anyway, of any kind. Tiny details just get me all messed up, so it's really no wonder I'm all worried about this now, when it's still over a year away. Welcome to the life of a compulsive worrier.

Anyway, that's been on my mind tonight. I know it's bound to only get worse over the next year, but maybe I can talk myself off the ledge when I start hyperventilating. I'll welcome any help and/or chocolate anyone wants to send. :)

Setting Goals

Just over an hour til I turn 21!

Anyway.

Lately I've been thinking about New Year's resolutions. I don't make them anymore myself, since like most people I usually only kept them for a couple weeks, if that. With so many people talking about them, though, it does make me think about what I might resolve to do if I were making resolutions. And then I thought - I don't make resolutions, but I can always set goals! New year, new semester, why not.

First of all though, I have to say that I'm happier with myself these days than I ever have been. Let me get superficial here for a minute. I've never thought of myself as a "pretty girl." I always used to wonder about those girls ... you know, the perfectly skinny blondes ... I remember wondering how it felt to be pretty. Like, did they look in the mirror and think, wow I'm pretty? Did they even realize it?

So anyway, the other night we went out to dinner with the family to celebrate our three January birthdays - mine, my mom's, and my great-grandfather's. I'd dressed up for it, cause I like to do that, and when we got home and I went to change clothes I happened to glance in the mirror and I was like hey ... I'm pretty. I know it sounds vain, okay, but I had an epiphany y'all. And then I stopped to think about it. I could definitely stand to lose weight - more on that momentarily - but I've figured out what works on me and how to look good. My skin has definitely been worse. And my hair ... well, excuse the vanity, but I love my hair. So anyway. Point here being that I had an epiphany, hee, and I'm actually happier with the outside of myself than I can ever remember being before.

So, that happened.

Anyway, goals. Like I mentioned already, weight. My roommate and suitemate and I are going to diet and exercise together. I've already been informed that we're giving up pop. I'll miss it, but I know it's horrible for me and I kind of feel guilty when I drink it anyway. We're going to walk several nights a week and keep each other from eating horrible things. I'm planning to do some traveling this summer if I have my way, which I'm really excited about, so I have an extra incentive to look good.

I'm also going to work on being more organized, although I always say that at the beginning of every semester. I'm going to try to be more dedicated, more disciplined where schoolwork is concerned. I made better grades last semester than the year before, so that was nice and I'd like to keep that going. I'm really bad for procrastinating too, so I'm going to try to kick that habit.

I'll start tomorrow.

Besides that, I'm going to try to work on picking battles, letting the little annoyances roll off my back and only making an issue of things that deserve to be made an issue of. Lately I've found myself saying whatever I'm thinking instead of keeping it inside - I know it's not good for you to keep things bottled up, but it's also not always good to tell people exactly what you think! So there's that to work on.

So ... yeah. Some things to think about as the new semester starts. We'll see how all this works out for me.

Introductions

Greetings, all and sundry!

While reading a friend's blog I realized how much I like to blog myself, so ... here I am! :)

I don't think anyone will be reading this who doesn't know me, but for the sake of argument how about some basic introduction.

I'm Leslie, I'm turning 21 in ~*4*~ days (!) and I live in the beautiful metropolis of Williamsburg, KY. Never heard of it? Get in line. I am in my junior year at the University of the Cumberlands in Williamsburg and, if I live long enough, will be getting my degree in English with a history minor, and possibly a religion minor as well. After college I'm going to grad school somewhere ... I don't know where yet, Brianna! ... where I will study archival studies or library science. I already dress like a librarian, so might as well become one, right?

I want to explain the title of my blog because now that I think about it, it might sound a little narcissistic ... brilliance, meaning that everything contained herein is brilliant? Yeah, not so much. The title comes from two conversations I've had with my best friends in the last couple of days, in which we decided that Leslie is at her most brilliant around midnight when she really ought to be going to sleep instead of running her mouth. Sometimes this is in the literal sense - I come up with things that amaze even myself. Other times, actually most times, the word "brilliance" is used with the strongest sense of sarcasm possible. The conversation in question centered around The Curls (aka Josh Groban) and The Sparkles (aka Edward Cullen).

Bri is concerned about my love for The Sparkles, since of course she's selfish and MUST KEEP HIM ALL TO HERSELF OM NOM, so I had to explain to her that I can love them both, and The Curls and The Sparkles can live in peace and harmony. The brilliant analogy I came up with? It's like a gourmet cheesecake and a Twinkie (Josh being the former, Edward the latter). Of course, you're going to love the cheesecake more. It's just better, and if you had your druthers you'd get it every time. Then you have the Twinkie, and you know it's horrible for you and nothing in it actually exists in nature ... still, sugarrrrrr, and you love it even though you know there's something better.

See, now isn't that brilliant?

This is why when I refer to my love for all things Twilight from here on out, the words "Sparkly Twinkie" will probably appear. Twilight is my Sparkly Twinkie.

So let's see, what else ... we just had Christmas! (Yay Christmas!) The holidays felt really rushed to me this year. Plus we had to travel, which I used to love but have now decided I'd rather not do on Christmas Day, thankyouverymuch. When you can't sleep the night before and you get up at 5, you don't want to spend all day in the truck - you want to play with your new toys and take a nap! Still, we had a good day. It's about the only time of year we get to see my mom's brother and his family.

We go back to school next week too ... and that is nothing at all even remotely resembling a sparkly Twinkie. It's more like a Twinkie that's been hiding, unwrapped, under the refrigerator for 6 months. I'm hoping this semester will be better than last, though. I've heard other English majors say that once you get past Literary Criticism, everything else is cake. Here's hoping! Next semester I'm taking Singers (again, because I cannot live without it), English Lit, Descriptive Linguistics (doesn't THAT sound exciting), American Lit, 20th Century America, and CREATIVE WRITING: FICTION!!!! I'm way pumped. I'm hoping that will only serve to enhance my fanfic adventures. :D

Okay, this is way long so I'll stop and try not to do this to you again. When I get going, it's hard to stop, hee.

Until next time!