One day summer slowly floated away

I have decided that I hate fall. I absolutely abhor it. When I was younger I thought I had to love it just because my birthday happens to fall (haha) within those select three months, but now I know better. I’ve learned to hate it.

Sure, the trees are pretty. Beautiful, even. Possibly even gorgeous. But… their prettiness doesn’t distract me from the true evils yet to come. I can see right through that pretty, innocent little façade. They can’t fool me.

I love summer. I love its warmth and the constant urge to go swimming in our beautiful pool. I found one thing I hate about it, though: that fall is the season right after.

Autumn just brings in a whirlwind of newness that leaves me dazed. It’s a season of starts. School, Cross Country (practices and endless trips to the “start”ing line), coldness, unwanted but necessary organization, and just all of that crap. And Autumn takes the sun away and leaves the world cold.

Summer’s still in the air for now, but I can feel it slowly floating away. Fall winds and clouds are slowly invading my tropical dreamland. The sun is going down sooner than it should. Oh, how I wish it was still June!

Sorry, Dorothy

Remember my blog entry about not knowing which road to take? The pretty yellow brick one that was anything but practical versus the solid red brick one? (If not, here it is: https://blackbyrd.wordpress.com/2009/02/27/follow-the-yellow-brick-road/.) Well, I’ve chosen one. Are you curious to know which one I’ve decided to venture down?

This past week was theater camp week. I didn’t really want to go because it seemed like a waste of time. People were working their batooties off on their mud-covered houses and I was stuck inside the high school’s auditorium where it seemed like nothing was wrong. But there was something wrong. A lot of something wrong.

I had to do it, though. I needed to for my own sanity. I’ve been trying to choose what career path to take; the one full of glamour and spotlights (which isn’t even guaranteed) or the sensible one where I am behind the scenes with a pen in my hand? This past week has convinced me that the yellow brick road would not be a wise choice. It may look pretty, but looks can definitely be deceiving. What if I start on my way down it and the path breaks in half because, though the bricks are beautiful, they are cheap? The red brick seems more stable. I’m going for that one.

I enjoyed the singing immensely. It’s the acting that I can’t stand anymore. I’m beginning to think that actors and actresses act like other people because they aren’t okay with themselves. I have become so comfortable with myself and have such high self esteem that I don’t need nor do I want to act like anyone but myself. As I was getting instructed to do certain dance moves and stand in a certain spot and have a certain face on, I grew extremely tired of it. I wouldn’t last in that kind of environment where I am getting told what to look like, how to act, how to sound, and where to go. That’s not me. That doesn’t sound like a desirable future.

And so, I’ve decided that I’m done with theater. I’ll keep my part in the musical, consider taking part in the play (I’ll end up doing it, I know), but I’m not doing anything extra anymore. Sure, our performance might have cheered people up yesterday, but one way to really help them out is to get dirty and help clean up our village. All this week I was wasting my days with the learning of music and dance moves that aren’t even relevant to my future.

I’m done.

My friend Gemma Doyle

You know what? Forget Twilight. Forget New Moon. Forget Eclipse. And FORGET Breaking Dawn.

Take those books off of your bookshelf and shove them in the nearest trash can. (Sure, I enjoyed them a little, but not as much as I thought I would.)

Now, go to the nearest Barnes & Noble or Borders and pick up copies of the Gemma Doyle trilogy. Place said trilogy on your shelf where Twilight used to take up space, and take them down one by one to devour them. Join red-headed Gemma in her travels, her curiosity, her love and her troubles. Erase Bella Swan and Edward Cullen from your mind and replace them with Gemma and Kartik. Befriend Ann, Felicity and Pippa and travel with the three of them to the realms to frolick in the garden or take a ride with Gorgon. Find out who Circe is, find out who your friends are, and who your enemies are. Ignore the Rakshana’s requests and continue employing your magic.

I finished The Sweet Far Thing last night, and was struck in awe (well, awestruck). It wasn’t the ending I was hoping for, but strangely, it fit nicely. Libba Bray is far more talented and descriptive than Stephenie Meyer is in Twilight and the other novels. C’mon! Who doesn’t love an author who puts “She has never lived in the Victorian era, is not British, and has no superpowers, though if she did they would involve being able to eat her weight in Swedish fish without feeling the urgent need to shave her tongue afterward” in the ABOUT THE AUTHOR section? Bray’s ideas are fresh and original. If you do not love her, you must be mad.

Anyway, have someone pry Twilight out of your hands and read and remember A Great and Terrible Beauty, Rebel Angels, and The Sweet Far Thing. Instead of viewing that ghastly Twilight movie, read! I get angry if somebody compares Twilight to Harry Potter, but if one were to compare Gemma Doyle to Harry Potter, I actually would not mind. Nothing will ever beat HP, but I believe that Gemma comes pretty close.