Hello December

For me, December is always synonymous with Christmas. The holidays. The rush of excitement that comes from finding the perfect gift. How cozy I feel when I bundle up in my coat, scarf, gloves, and Uggs.

Lights? Check!
Where to put them? Uh...

So whenever December officially arrives, I always get really excited.

I mean, extra excited. I put up my tree weeks ago. Before Thanksgiving. And I'm not ashamed. I have my wreath hanging, my candles dispersed, my lights—okay, well they aren't hung yet. But it's my first holiday season at my new apartment, and I'm not quite sure where to put them yet. I discovered there's no outlet on my balcony. So I don't know. We'll see. I need to at least get some garland. But you get the idea.

Cold weather just makes me feel very warm, safe, and cozy. Even when it gives me a runny nose. Although frankly, I blame that on the bipolar weather here in College Station. Example—Right now it is 59º according to my phone. With a high of 65º. However, Saturday the forecasted high is...79º.

Yes. Almost 80º. It kind of makes me sick. I'm wondering how this city didn't get the memo about it being officially December! It's seriously conflicting with my cold-weather fantasies.

But I'll live. I'll just turn my AC back on and pretend. I have a very good imagination.

In other news, finals are fast approaching. Monday is the last day I'll actually have normal class, then the week after...finals.

I have mixed feelings about this semester coming to a close. On the one hand, I have spent a lot of time stressing and complaining about the classes and workload I've had going on these past few months. I'm burnt out on writing papers, reading—especially reading theories that I completely disagree with. I've had several classes where I can do nothing but sit back and keep my mouth shut, try not to roll my eyes, because really...disagreeing isn't worth running the risk of making an enemy out of the person who's ultimately deciding my grade for the class. It's kind of annoying. But then, on the other hand, if all goes as planned, next semester will be my last semester. Then I'll graduate. And while I can't wait, and am super excited to graduate, I'm also starting to realize that I really do enjoy college. For all of the complaining, I enjoy classes. I even enjoy going to classes. And taking page after page of predominately useless notes. I'm not sure that I'm ready for life after college—but I'm also not sure that I'll be pursuing grad school. At least not right away.

So there's that. A conglomeration of mixed feelings about the end of this semester, plus excitement about Christmas and all that it entails. Like a break from school, seeing friends from out of state—I'm lookin' at you, Matt—holiday shopping, hot chocolate, and Christmas lights.

I can't say for sure, but I have a feeling that this holiday season is going to be awesome.

I spent way too much time making this stupid flow chart. I apparently am not good at making them. But here is a really poorly portrayed layout of what I spend my December doing. And/or thinking about.

Fig. 1.1—Crappy Little December Flowchart

On Writing and Willfulness

Sometimes, even though I love to write, it's hard for me to just sit down and make myself do it. And when I do finally reach the point of more or less chaining myself to my laptop and forcing my fingers to plunk out word after word, it almost feels like a chore.

It shouldn't, right? I mean, I love writing. It's what I want to do with my life, in some way or another. So why is it so hard for me sometimes?

Is it just because I'm lazy? Or is it because I'm afraid?

Sometimes I think it's both.

There are days where I sort of feel the urge to write, but I'm distracted. I keep thinking of other things I could be doing—or other things I should be doing. Being a student clashes with being a writer sometimes. I want to sit down and work on a piece, but all I can think about is that research paper I should start. Or finish. Or perfect. Or the video I need to watch so that I can answer those questions over it that will be discussed in class. Or the book I should be reading in case of a pop quiz. (Or how I'm so tired of doing homework and reading for school that during my free time I just want to throw myself onto the couch, switch on the TV, and mentally vegetate for a little while...)

I know education is important. If I didn't think that, I sure wouldn't be putting so much money, time, effort into it. I want that degree, don't get me wrong. But sometimes, especially when it concerns busy work, or work that I see as absolutely irrelevant to the things I want to do in my life (*coughMATHcough*), it's really hard to justify stifling a creative urge to look up congressional election statistics.

But other times, I think homework or laziness or lack of inspiration are just excuses. Poor, pitiful little excuses made up by a person who doesn't really want to admit to being afraid.

It's like I expect to never write garbage. Not ever, not any time. And that's just not feasible. Or realistic.

Brings to mind Ernest Hemingway's famous quote—

"The first draft of anything is shit."

I don't always believe that's true, but at the same time...there's definitely some truth in it. In other words, it doesn't make sense to put so much pressure on myself. It's not like I'm doing something wrong if I don't sit down and spill out a masterpiece in a few hours with no edits.

In a way, I think that's what I love so much about NaNoWriMo. It's one of the few times that the absolute insanity of the deadline creates an excuse in and of itself to not think too much or too hard about what I'm writing and instead to focus o the act of writing itself. To get the idea down, to flesh the story out. Editing is for later.

I've always been told that oftentimes the pieces that end up getting cut out of manuscripts are the pieces that the author loves the most. I never understood how that could be—how a scene or series of events favored by the author could somehow not fit in the story they created.

But you know what? It's true. I found this out myself in a longer piece I'm working on. The section I wrote that I felt was the strongest, that I was the most proud of, doesn't actually fit anywhere in the story. It's kind of mind-boggling, really. It probably sounds just about as crazy (especially to someone who isn't a writer, or who doesn't know any personally) as when I try to explain that just because I created a character doesn't mean I have complete control over what they do. But it's true. If you create a character, give him or her a lot of depth, background, personality, you'll start to find there are things they just won't do. It can be very tiresome when trying to write a scene in which your character just...isn't havin' it. But it happens.

Sidenote: I just watched a really great movie with my Mom over Thanksgiving break. It's called Miss Potter (about the woman who created the lovable Peter Rabbit) and there's a scene in this film that reminds me of what I just mentioned. She's talking to her illustration, which is misbehaving, and she says something along the lines of, "You better stop that, or I'll write you out!"

Anyway, that's the point of NaNoWriMo. To just get the story out, I mean. The idea is that unless you get it written down, you'll never have anything to edit. I'm constantly having to remind myself of that. Because all too often, even if I have the urge to write, if I get the feeling that I don't know where the story is going, or that I'm too tired or distracted to put my whole heart in it, I start to tell myself it's better if I just abandon the idea for the moment. But that's not the case. Some of the better stories I've written have come at times when I'm grasping for inspiration. It's always a very pleasant surprise.

So my advice to any of you out there with aspirations to write and anxieties about when and where to do it—the best methods, the tricks of the trade—would be simply this.

Write.

Because if you don't start there, if you don't start with a blank page and pour words out onto it, you'll never have anything. And if you never have anything, you sure as hell won't ever have anything great.

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving is one of those holidays that always comes and goes faster than I expect. Unlike Christmas, which encourages at least a month-long build of anticipation and enthusiasm prior to Christmas Eve and, even better, Christmas Day, Thanksgiving doesn't get a lot of hype.

Let's face it, it comes fairly soon after Halloween. It isn't Hallmarks biggest card-seller. And a lot of the decor that's Thanksgiving-related fits nicely into a sort of general "It's fall! Hooray!" category. Sure, there are turkeys. Pilgrims and Indians. But I don't think I could name you any catchy songs about them. I don't see much of them on sidewalks or in shop windows.

I see carved pumpkins, witches, and ghosties.

Then I see Christmas trees, tinsel, and brightly colored lights.

Thanksgiving is vastly overlooked. It's a Thursday, and we eat a lot more than we should. And that's about it.

Which is a shame, seeing as how Thanksgiving is the perfect time to remind ourselves, and to be reminded, just how thankful we should be for everything that we've got, that we are, that we have been given.

Which is why I decided to post my list of 50 things I'm thankful for. To which I'd like to add one more.

51. I am thankful for the fact that I have so many blessings to easily fill a list of fifty. And to fill a list far longer. I had to make myself stop for fear of driving people away with a never-ending list of awesomeness.*

That being said, I hope everyone took at least a moment to sit down and really count their blessings. IT may not be, "I'm thankful for my new Ferrari," but just as important are the, "I'm thankful for the socks on my feet so they aren't so cold," or the, "I'm thankful for that one picture that always makes me smile." Thanksgiving doesn't have to be about giving thanks for all the big, awesome, amazing, and totally fortunate things in your life—though it can be. But it can just as easily be about all of the little things that make our lives so much easier. Things we often forget completely because—and maybe I'm not speaking for you, but I'm definitely speaking for myself—we've become so accustomed to some of those little things that they seem like a given. A fact of life, rather than something fortuitous.

But the fact of the matter is, those little things could be gone in an instant. They leave us just as easily as they come. It's important to remember that, and to not grow so comfortable that we forget what a luxury comfort really is.

*I'm totally using #24 on my list!