Sunday, June 30, 2013

a pause

I'm on the last leg of a revision, and as I think back over just how much this story has changed in the past year and a half (a lot - it's changed a lot), it's also stayed exactly the same. Or maybe what I mean is, it's become truer. It's as if all of my revisions were peeling back layer after layer and with each one, I've gotten a little closer to the heart of it. And this most recent revision has brought me closer than all the others. Or at least, I think and hope it has.

So I guess this post is a celebration of that. No matter what happens after this point, this little story and I have come a long way together. Even on the days when I look at it and think to myself, "I've read this so many times that I just can't bear to read another word", there is a deeper place that cherishes those words. Because I did what I set out to do. I captured on the page what I wanted to capture. The reason I ever started this story in the first place was because I needed to hold on to something that was precious to me.

I needed to make sure that I didn't forget.

Friday, June 21, 2013

edge of seventeen

I was blogging over at Edge of Seventeen this week, reviewing Summer Days, Starry Nights as well as interviewing the author, Vicki VanSickle (loveliest lady!). I'll be blogging there most of the time now, so if it's sparse over here, that's why.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

a grief unobserved

The worst thing about dementia is that it robs you of your grieving period. When it first takes root, you’re too busy reeling from the shock of being forgotten that you don’t realize you need to start grieving. And by the middle stages, it’s already too late. The person you love is both gone and not gone. They’re not gone because there they are, sitting right beside you. Alive. But they’re also long gone, with no trace of the person they were left. Or if there are traces, they only come in whisps and hints, always fleeting, increasingly rare, until they only remain in the memories of those who knew them - that is, until they too forget. So you lose your loved one little by little instead of all at once. And grief slips out at inopportune times, for inexplicable reasons. And if you can’t mourn outright, all at once, does that mean you’ll spend the rest of your life stopping up holes to keep the grief from slipping out? Or will you too slowly forget, leaving the one you love un-grieved? That’s what I wonder.

Saturday, June 1, 2013

to be or not to be a dreadhead

That's the question.

You see, for the past five years, I've had these:

And for three years before that, I had another set of dreads (which I cut off, and promptly put back in as soon as my hair was long enough). So I've had my hair in dreadlocks for a while. You might even say that me and my dreads are in a long term relationship.

But lately I've been thinking: maybe I don't want them anymore. I mean, they're getting LONG. Really long. And they're unruly, messy, out-of-control. Which I like; that's the point of dreads. But as much as I love messiness, I also love newness. I'm the kind of person who gets bored easily, and after almost eight years of dreads, that's a lot of years with no hairstyle change.

Which is why I think I'm going to cut them off.

Yikes. Even just typing that last sentence prompts the voices in my head. The ones that gasp and say, But Kristen! Remember the last time, when you spent months crying your eyes out?

I'm older now, though. Wiser. More prepared.


I'm not going to do it yet. I'm just thinking about it. Which makes this whole ramble mostly just that.

So I'll keep you posted.