I'm Not Shy But I Refuse to Speak Because I Don't Trust You to Understand Me

Title from My Name Is Dark by Grimes.

I'm probably not going to win NaNoWriMo this year; I only have like 3000 words left to go, but I'm probably not going to hit it because I'm in a bad place psychologically and probably won't write that much before 12, if I write today at all. I slept all day and played a little Kingdom Hearts 3 and that's it. And if that's it, that's fine, at least I was lazing off instead of getting into more trouble. I really don't trust myself to do much else today.

Basically I've been listening to Grimes and enjoying moping around hating myself and life and feeling all defeatist about everything.

Obviously I should have loftier goals, but we all have Those Days TM.

I picked up a copy of Awakener by Alisha Howard on Kindle because it's free on Amazon.ca right now, and I bought all the paperbacks for the My Blood Approves series by Amanda Hocking. I'm finally going to own one of my favorite self-published series in physical copy! It's hard to invest in indie books, and I say this as an indie author, because they're so damn expensive for print-on-demand books, and it sucks, but it is what it is. I'd love to buy the Hollows series too, and in fact, I'm hopping over there to do that now, because I just talked myself into it, it's only two books, and God knows when I'll have the money again. It came up to like 95 bucks for the MBA books, they're like 17 bucks each. Hmmm, maybe I will wait to buy the Hollows. I talked myself into it and then out of it again, lol. Money is scary, especially when you have very little.

I honestly think I'm supposed to help my cousin move in a couple days and watch all my packages come while I'm out and get stolen. I'll have to build a contraption or box or something for the mailmen to put them in that doesn't draw as much attention.

I'm honestly reeling from what a weird November it's been. It's crazy that this month is over because it felt like it went on and on and on forever. I'm kind of in denial that it's winter again, but at least it's mild so far. Thanks for that, global warming. You ruin the things that ruin everything else, but you also kill polar bears, so you can still go fuck yourself.

Yup, I'm gonna go NOT-write and wish aliens would abduct and murder me already. I know at least ONE galactic overlord has to have internet access, I know y'all see this; what's taking so long?

Why Do I Keep Buying Books?

I know I'm not the only one doing this. You have like twenty-three unread books on your shelves, waiting for you to pick them up. You have a stack of books you're in the middle of on your nightstand the size of your head. And yet, you go to four bookstores in a day. . .

You buy a bunch of books, even though you have zero time to read and a million other books to get to first. It doesn't matter though because pretty spines and pages and ugh, books.

I finally have Emerald Green and The Rising - now the Gathering trilogy and the Ruby Red trilogy are complete on my shelves. I've already read Hex Hall and The Darkest Part of the Forest, but I wanted my own copies. . . I've also heard really good things about Die For me.

The notebook is one of those fancy ones with metal clasps and pretty textured pages that you get at chain bookstores. I actually just bought a new sketchbook a few weeks ago, so I'm using this one as a journal.

And yeah, I went to four bookstores the other day. Two of them were chains - two different Coles outlets in two different malls. The other two were used bookstores. That copy of the Darkest Part of the Forest, which is brand new, was 3 dollars at my favourite used bookstore. The hardcover of Die For Me was seven bucks at another, which is a pretty decent price considering it would be around twenty bucks in a chain store.

I don't know what the deal is in my city with all these great brand new books popping up in the used stores, but I think some teens out there must have really cool relatives who are buying them cool books for holidays, and they're pawing them to the bookshops to get cash. Which they probably spend on weed, since this is Saint John. Which means I get to find a bunch of cool books for good prices. To be honest, I'll take books over weed any day. You can convince one of your friends to light you up - you can't just convince someone to hand you a good paranormal romance for cheap, though. #booklogic.

One of the things I love about used bookshops is seeing all the love on the books, too, in the cracks in the spines and the folds in the corners of the pages. I like feeling the echo of another reader on a book while I'm reading it.

The thing is if I buy any more books, I'm gonna need to get new shelves. I never thought I'd fill all these up, because my room has shelves built into the walls, but here we are. I need a new shelf. My dad has one out in his double-garage that he said he'd give me, because obviously not getting more books in not an option for me. I'm like a dragon, hoarding gold, but the gold is actually trashy romance novels and I'm a big nerd.

I have to wait until he's done adding an extra shelf to it, though, because one of the original three broke off. But once that's done, I'll be on my way to total world domination, obviously.

Bath & Body Works, Acoustic Guitar, and Misadventures in Exercise

So, my seasonal finally ended, and I'm back to being a full-time slug. At least, until the next semester of school starts. Of course, I'll still be working all day every day; I'll just be doing it at home, in my pajamas. I'm still editing SOSAS, and drafting The Indigo Horde (fun!) but I also have school work, and a new diet, and a new instrument and language to learn. So, yeah. I'm learning French at the moment, and I got an acoustic guitar for Christmas - which I asked for, and am over the moon to get - that I now have to learn.

As far as the new diet? I'm cutting out all junk food, all red meat, and adding thirty minutes of exercise a day. In the past I've only been exercising a couple times a week, and then I got my job and stopped altogether, because I figured that was exercise enough - and I was mostly right, since I lost like 8 pounds while working at that store. I started eating a lot as Christmas got closer, especially Chinese takeout and pizza, along with Christmas dinner and all the chocolate I got in my stocking. So, yeah. Not good. I also binged on soda while drinking (because as much as I love shots, I wasn't drinking an entire pint of vodka straight) along with vodka coolers and lemonades that I'm sure are calorie killers.

So, yeah, cutting alcohol out of the new diet, too. I'll probably drink again in the future, but most likely not until we're well into summer. I like to keep drinking a once-in-a-while kind of thing anyway, because I've had problems with self-medicating with it in the past. It's not a problem now, but I still try to stay mindful when it comes to casual drinking, as well.

So, yeah, that's what I have to look forward to over the next few weeks: a lot of work. I mean, it's fun work, but still.

Since my seasonal is over, I guess I can talk more openly about it now? I was working the Christmas rush at Bath and Body Works, and I honestly have no desire to ever step into a mall again. Shoppers are annoying. I'm sure I'm annoying to employees at stores too, though.

I basically went around un-boxing and shelving stuff, though I ended up working the floor and helping customers a lot, too, since I was out there so much. I don't really know what to say about it. It was fun. And exhausting. Really exhausting.

Half of that, was commute time, but the other half was just me. I'm not generally used to being around people all day, anymore, and it drained me. At the same time, the work was hard and I often didn't bring a lunch (I don't like carrying shit around, so that's on me) so I was constantly tired and hungry and in a mild state of anxiety. It only got really bad once, I think my second to last week - I had an anxiety attack and ended up leaving. I told my boss I had to go because I just didn't feel good, but I was honestly about to burst into tears. I have no idea why I freaked out like that, so I guess I was just overwhelmed that day. I think it was a valid learning experience, and I did gain some confidence just from being around people that often, but I'm glad it's over and I get a short break for a while.

Well, a break from going out every day. Not a break from working.

I've also done a lot of shopping lately. I bought myself one of those adult coloring books, and a few actual novels, along with a sketchbook. I grabbed a new hat and some candles. I think I'm going to buy some new incense the next time I go out, because those stick are cheap and I haven't had any in a while.

I also bought some video games. I got Saints Row 3 (we used to have it for xbox, and I missed it, so I grabbed one for the ps3 and I'm just as addicted as I was before) and Enslaved, Odyssey to the West. I would probably be playing those now, honestly, but my brother and his girlfriend are watching some mafia show on the big screen, and my cousin Amelia is passed out on my bed behind me (she had the bright idea to pull an all-nighter and then ditched me before it was even eleven o'clock!) and I really want to spend the next three hours just listening to 8tracks.

But I'm going to force myself to write more of the indigo horde while I do it, because priorities.

The Indigo Horde & You

I have a new book out that I'm serializing on Wattpad over the course of the next ten or eleven days. It's an urban fantasy called The Indigo Horde about a private detective, some monster hunters, and a very steamy romance. You can read it free here.

But enough of self-promotion. Because today what I actually want to talk about is art. And not the usual type of art I talk about. Nope: it ain't about writing today. I'm talking visual art.

Specifically? Sketching.

The year ends in like, twelve or so days and I still haven't finished filling up my sketchbook. I have so many empty pages, I'm thinking of lugging it around with me for the rest of the month and just sketching everything I see to fill it up. I hate letting empty pages go to waste, but as soon as the year ends, so does my work in this sketchbook. I'll have to put it on the shelf and grab a new one. Which I will hopefully use more.

Also not complete? My 2015 reading challenge. I wanted to read 100 books, and I've only finished 71 so far. Not bad at all, but still not my goal. That said, I'm proud of myself, because on top of reading 71 books this year, I wrote a few too.

1) Shadows
2) Souls of Salt & Seawater
3) Things We Saw At Midnight
4) Blood of Midnight

As far as 2015 goes, I'm happy. I think I grew a lot, learned a lot more about myself, and I like where I am, and who I am as a person. There are things I want to work on and accomplish, but overall, I'm proud of myself and all the growth I've gone through this year. I've changed a lot. I've also just become more myself in some ways. It has been a long year, to be clear. I've gone through a lot of heartbreak and a lot of joy. I traveled further than I've ever gone before, I got my first tattoo, I ended an eight-year friendship, I grew in confidence, got my first day job in years, and really began to make some headway with my mental illness. I am both terrified and horribly excited for next year.

And for Christmas. Because I finally finished my shopping. A lot of people got candles and books, a few got other things, but for the most part it was easy this year. And now that it's done I can relax without stressing.

Like tonight I watched Crimson Peak, finally, with my parents, and I didn't spend the entire time wondering what to buy my extended family for the holidays. And, y'know, I got to stare at Tom Hiddleston's but, which is always a plus.

So, yeah, things are good, and always looking up. I hope it's been a great year for you guys too, and I hope the last few days of it continue to be positive. I'll have more posts up before new years (I never shut up, do I?) along with more chapters of the Indigo Horde, but until then, I'll leave you with this gem:

A Very, Very, Very Boring Walk

I finished another on of my daily goals. I went for a walk. I wrote earlier that I wasn't sure if I would force myself to do it or not, because I wanted to be a slug. Well. I did it. I morphed from a slug into a grossed out and mildly agitated slug.

It was boring. It was sunny. A met a cute dog. I found a dead crow. A few bugs stalked me for about forty feet and then gave up. There were trees.

I miss my treadmill, because when I had that walks were fun. I watched True Blood. I listened to music. I talked on the phone. And I walked more, because I didn't have to actually go anywhere. The treadmill broke and I can't afford another one, but someday I'll buy one. I need a new computer first. And then new clothes. and then, then I can start saving for a treadmill. And when I get it, I will finally be a happy slug.

Pop Culture is Killing Me

I feel like my blogs have been really dark and personal lately, and while it's important to me to talk about personal stuff to form a connection with my readers and show who I am, I also feel like it's fun to keep stuff light and recap-y and, well, bloggy. And I like talking about pop culture. So much that it's almost all I do.

I'm working on a side project right now while I take a short break from everything, and it's just something to take my mind off stuff when I crave the motion of typing or thinking about storytelling. It's just an expanded version of a short story I wrote almost two years ago, but it's in a different pov and verb tense, and it's bery Richelle Mead. Or, well, as Richelle Mead as I get - my writing is a lot more mope-y and emo than hers, but still.

Anyway, while I'm writing I'm collecting a bunch of good music, bust last night I stumbled across Same Old Love by Selena Gomez and I'm loving this song. It's different than anything she's done before, but still familiar. I like that there's an electronic element, but she's letting it be pop. She's not forcing it to be a dance track and it's really glamour. There's something almost Amy Winehouse about it, and I love it. I've had it on repeat for an hour while I cooked eggs and fried mash potatoes for breakfast. Also coffee, because coffee.

It really fits the story, too, because the main character and her love interest are both the kind of girls who like to wear glamorous dresses and give sass. This is ya paranormal, but it's so chick-lit it's one of the funnest things I've ever written.

I'm also really loving Dangerous by Big Data, even though the music video grosses me the hell out, and Coattails by Broods.

I'm reading Siege and Storm by Leigh Bardugo, and I'm worried because there's so much to read I don't know if I can get to all my arcs in time! I don't want to waste the arcs, but these book shopping sprees might have me knee-deep in catch-up with my actual books so long the ebook arcs expire.

expensive habits...

I did just read a physical arc of Pretending to be Erica by Michelle Painchaud that her publisher sent me, though, and I have to say - I loved it. You can read my review of that here. I really like heist stories, so that was nice, even if it was more contemporary. But Michelle Painchaud is awesome on Twitter, and her book is full of some pretty awesome stuff too. Like cute boys and emotional trauma. That kind of awesome.

Right now I'm just hoping my royalties pay out soon because as soon as I get my next payment I can buy a new laptop off of kijiji or something and pick up the pace with work. I desperately need a new (well, new to me) computer, because mine is nearly six years old and ready to retire. Once I get a new one I'm hoping I can work more and do more as far as youtube videos and blogs and stuff go. I can also do more with Diverse Tomes, which would be nice.

As it is, you can find Diverse Tomes on Facebook and Tumblr now. It's a platform I use to talk about and dissect diversity - or the lack of it - in the young adult genre, and in other teen oriented culture. So that's cool, and you should probably check it out.

What else? I haven't had a red bull in so long that it's killing me. It's raining today and I'm going to light some incense and make coffee and do homework when I'm done writing this. I'll be writing and posting another blog earlier because I should post on this blog more. When I'm done homework I'll probably work on that project I was just talking about for a bit. And then crash.

Keep an eye out for a post on becoming a beta-reader or recieving arcs of this project because I want to put some out as soon as I finish it.

(I'm hoping to squeeze in one more release besides SOSAS in 2015, because Shadows doesn't come until 2016, ditto another project I can't talk about yet.) And then I have two books coming out in 2017 as well - a duology. After that I'm up in arms. I might aim for traditional publishing with anything after that, but we'll see how it goes...

Some Stuff, About Stuff

I'm in a lot of pain right now. Did I break a leg? Cut myself? Sprain something? Nope: I went to a friend's house and got a lot of flea bites. They're swollen, because I'm allergic to flea bites, and itchy, because they're flea bites, and it sucks. Fuck fleas. Honestly, they can go to hell.

Flea bites aside, though, I've been having a (mostly) good time, as of late. But life is still weird, in the way it's always been weird, and between bursts of goodness and fun, life has been a cloudy mess of nostalgia and dread lately. Basically, it's almost fall.

To start with the good, I've had a great past couple of weeks. I promised to post more about my vacation and then never did, so to start I guess I should get into that: around a year and a half ago, my grandmother and aunt (who is not actually my aunt, but who I've always called my aunt anyway) moved out of the city to my aunt's home town, which is called Campbellton, and is a four hour drive away. I haven't seen them since. My brother, parents, and cousin had all been up to visit, and I hadn't. Since my grandma's health isn't great I've been really anxious to see her again since they left, and this past month I finally got the chance to go up with my cousin Amelia for a five day trip. The four hour drive ended up being eight hours, both ways (thanks, bus company routes!) and the trip was...wild. Good wild.

I never thought I'd get my first tattoo on a trip to Grandma's house, but I went ahead and did it anyway. Bad ass, right? Top that with a wolf and some store-bought basket food, Red Riding Hood!

Anyway, the trip was good. Amelia and I have been best friends since we were born (I was born exactly seven days before her) and we spent most of our early years together. Who we are is irrevocably tied with each other and, honestly, we're pretty damn similair: we're both creative, chaotic, passionate night-owls with a tenancy to bite off more than we can chew and get ourself into trouble like a fish gets wet.

My memories are scattered and hazy like the smoke from my grandmother's endless stream of refrigerated cigarettes: Amelia laughing out the open window of the car as we swerved around a corner, the hiss of my grandmother's ancient, bald cat as he batted at my face for daring to pet him, the fast-track, clipped accent of my aunt's seemingly infinite line up of sisters. My aunt, Josie, and her sisters, took me on a walk every night. Amelia tagged along sometimes, but other times it would be just me and Josie and one or two of her sisters, strolling along. we would point out houses we liked, tell old stories about each other, or ourselves, they pointed our local landmarks and recounted wisdom they'd picked up along their path through the years. I was consistently amazed by some of the little nuggets of humanity and wisdom I found among the cast of my vacation, which was mostly middle aged to senior women. But it was a young vacation, too. It was Milly flirting with the hot guy at the Sobey's checkout counter, it was me walking through the dark town alone in the rain, dreading coming home. It was diving back into the current at Tidehead beach and feeling new memories wash over my head like the cool water, swallowing me up to spit me out again as something new, something both older and younger.

And for the weird? Coming home was a struggle. I knew/know, in my heart of hearts, that this could be the last time I ever see/saw my Grandmother. I might have the opportunity to go up again in October with my brother, and if I do, I'll take it. If she lives through the winter, I'm going again next summer, too. Nan has been in bad health for years, and she's survived a lot longer than any of us thought she would, but I know that no matter how long she lives, I'll always regret not spending more time with her when the end inevitably comes. I've already lost one grandmother. So has Amelia. We both knew what we might be leaving behind when we climbed out of Josie's car and into the cold morning to get back on our bus. We knew, when Josie climbed onto the bus after us, tears streaking her face, to hug us again and press twenty dollar bills into our hands, what had pushed her to come after us for one final goodbye.

We both know what it's like to lose someone to time, to realize that your last goodbye was the last goodbye. I still remember Amelia's hands shaking as we hovered over our Grandmother's bedside in the dark of morning, wrapping her in hugs and whispering our goodbyes to her half-seeping form before heading out for the long trip home.

Something was coming to an end. A chapter we'd been reading so long we'd fallen in love with it. And this trip? This trip was the final scene of our beloved chapter. I know that I'm going to remember this summer, and this vacation, for the rest of my life, in some capacity.

It hasn't been all bad since I got back, either. My tattoo is now healed, and while I did miss the Saint John Pride parade, I've been out a few times. The other day I met up with my best friend, Kuma, and a friend of ours named Kevin, so we could go into the city for the day. The plan was to hit the library and hang out sketching, but instead, after checking my bank account for eight bucks and realizing I had one hundred and fifty, it turned into a wild day of walking, shopping, laughter, and sunlight that sears into the memory of the day so that you can almost feel it on your skin when you look back on it.

I bought a bunch of books, and a bunch of incense, and tea, and snacks, and lunch, and...okay, maybe I got myself a new pipe. My old one was broken, the mouthpiece is twisted. Her name is Lady Starship. The new pipe? Not twisted. Not rusted or burnt or damaged in any way. She's perfect, gleaming black metal, and her name is Black Cobra. I also got these new cigarettes (if you can call them that) that are menthol free and nicotine free.

Cute, right? I'm not a big smoker - I mean, sure, I smoke pot sometimes - and I've been known to indulge in a cherry cigar every other month, but cigarettes? Not my thing. Lung disease. Yellow fingers. Nasty. these, though? We found them in the organic food store while we were getting incense and tea and thought they're be fun to try. We chain-smoked them in Kuma's room while getting shitfaced drunk on home made wine and breaking in my new pipe. I'm not entirely sold. Kuma really liked them, since she doesn't smoke weed or actual cigarettes they make a nice, healthy alternative - but I'm not too fond. The smoke was really, really irritating, to the point where I was full on crying because ouch, my eyes! and I couldn't really taste the vanilla. And, you know, because I'm just that kind of high-class bitch, my organic cigarettes need that vanilla flavour if they want to keep me around.

We also took selfies in the Asian Market:

My point is, it was a good day. And there have been other good days. My cousin from Vancouver laughing at the table with me and my mom over a bowl of freshly picked blueberries, smoke twining in the air of my bedroom while I sit talking with my dad, an endless stream of good writing days and netflix gossip Girl marathons and so many coffees I'm sure my blood is half-caffeine now.

And yet I feel sort of...sad. Melancholy. And I'm worried. Scared, even.

I'm scared that the summer is coming to an end in a very short three days. I'm scared that I'm turning twenty years old in a few months. I'm scared that I might have to go back to daily classes soon if my homeschool-ish program doesn't work out this year, I'm scared I might never see my grandmother again. I'm scared that I'm turning into an adult. Time is passing so quickly now.

Yesterday I'd just been accepted into my first-choice high school. I was a naive, slightly-damaged but still mostly-innocent teenager who had four years to get his shit together. Today I'm a nineteen year-old who's going into my final semester (if things work out I'll graduate halfway through the academic year, as opposed to at the end of it) I'm tattooed and toughened-up. I've got new scars and new sorrows, and I'm stronger for them all. I'm a wholly different person, and I've barely had time to blink.

So who will I be in three years? Will I be the struggling writer living with his parents and working a shitty job at a Starbucks to try and get by? Will I be the published author and artist living in a tiny Toronto apartment with my best friend? Will I be single? What colour will my hair be? Where will I find room for some more scars? Who are my pets, my friends, my thoughts?

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm an adult now - or just about to become one - and it's fucking scary. Responsibility, work, regrets. I just don't want to look back in twenty years and wonder where all my time went, why I wasted all my chances. But I'm also excited.

I'm excited because I'm a self-published author with big plans to increase my readership. I'm excited because I'm finally turning into someone who isn't afraid to stand up for himself and be his own best friend. I'm excited because all these new opportunities are turning up and all I have to do is be brave enough to go after what I want.

In short what I'm saying is, nostalgia is messed up. And so is the future. And I'm sort of a mess, but it's beautiful. I have people on my team who are invaluable, like Amelia/Milly, and Kuma, and my parents, and my readers, and it's all kind of funny how things work out. If you'd asked me who I would be someday four or five years ago, I would not have told you I'd be the boy with a scar on each wrist (one still pink and healing, the etched in my flesh with ink) who had a fire in his chest and sparks in his eyes, who was a published author, who was not ashamed to look his own reflection in the eyes and say "I love you." but now I can't imagine myself as anyone else.

So that's where I'm at right now, between screeching at the MTV Scream finale and mainlining cheap instant coffee, I've been asking myself who I am and who I'm going to be. They're some tough questions. But I've learned lately that I'm tough, too, so maybe I don't have too much to worry about. I don't know what this semester, or this year, is going to be like - but I know that, through all of it, I've got me, and I've got this blog, and I think...well, I think I'm ready.

And that might be the scariest thing of all.

***
Bonus, the song that will officially remind me of this summer forever:

See you guys soon,

-Oliver