This is a catalogue of thoughts

…and not really a ‘blog’, although names are just labels, aren’t they. It’s the essence of things that matter. I suppose that through writing, we unveil a little bit of our own essence.

I used to write so much, and it made me so happy. I used to read more, too. Then, life became more demanding, and I stopped writing.

I’ve recently realized, though, that life is too short to not make time for activities that bring me happiness. Thus- the birth of this online…journal/diary/catalogue of thoughts/place to post my stories and ramblings.  I  read anything and everything, but I enjoy reading fantasy the most, because why spend time reading about things that happen in this world when you…don’t really have to? I like writing fantasy shorts as well, although honestly, anything goes.

I am not writing for anybody in particular. Besides snippets of stories, I will be mostly unloading my thoughts here as well. Fair warning- I abandon projects quickly and easily. I wonder if this blog will stand the test of time, and my inconstant heart.


Causes worth dying for

‘But there are causes worth dying for,’ said Butterfly.

‘No, there aren’t!  Because you’ve only got one life but you can pick up another five causes on any street corner!’

‘Good grief, how can you live with a philosophy like that?’

Rincewind took a deep breath. ‘Continuously!’

-Terry Pratchett, Interesting Times

Mirror, mirror…

Life is better when you’re beautiful.

Everyone wants to be the pretty girl. Do you know the one I’m talking about? She has her life together. Her Instagram feed is flawless, with pictures of her travels and her freshly manicured nails interposed between the carefully photoshopped/filtered shots of her friend circle and her labrador puppy and her boyfriend.

I know her- I know that Pretty Girl. We all know who the Pretty Girls are when we see them. Sometimes, I wonder- what is my social media presence perceived as? Am I just another Pretty Girl to someone else? It’s definitely within the realm of possibility.

I used to want to be a Pretty Girl. I curated my Instagram photos- only bright, saturated photos would white borders would make the cut!- and was obsessed with building a social media following. I didn’t believe I was a Pretty Girl because they never have problems. They’re always perfectly suntanned, surrounded by 3 or more barbie-esque friends, iced lemonades in hand. Me? I tried my hardest to project that effortless, model off-duty vibe, but I knew that I was a walking paradox. I was trying to hard to seem like I wasn’t trying hard at all (this is a trend it seems, among teens and young adults- I’m not alone in this).

Slowly I’ve realized a few things (2017 is my year for realizing stuff. Call me Kylie)

  1. Everyone has problems. It’s Life. We all know that popular saying- social media shows off the brightest, best-est parts of our lives. And of course it does- why would anyone publicize their dark moments? Just remember, those dark moments exist…for everyone.
  2. Pretty Girls…can be your friends. Don’t hate on them just because they’re beautiful, wear fake eyelashes everyday, and project the image of having a wonderful life. These things aren’t indicators of whether or not they’re good people. Girls should support each other, not tear each other down.
  3. Live authentically. I’m taking a break from social media this week- no Facebook or Snapchat at all, and minimal Instagram. I’ll be going back to it, of course, but it’s good to take a step back and take everything into perspective. I want to be someone of substance. Someone who can hold deep and meaningful conversations, and dissect deep and meaningful rhetoric. I also want to have a pretty Instagram feed. And I can do both!


Time for bed. TL;DR- no one is really a Pretty Girl. It’s just an image. As a seventeen year old, social media heavily influences several aspects of my life and is messing a little with my self esteem and the way I perceive normality.


A girl facing the unknown

…. aka a reflection of my state of mind as I leave the west coast and move to the east for university. Mostly excited, a little apprehensive, and prematurely homesick. 

I am thankful that I have something so precious that it pains me to say goodbye. Not everyone is lucky enough to have that.


My hair fell down my back in a waterfall of loose, haphazard curls. A circlet of some exotic wood nestled on my head, and rose pigment sparkled on my eyelids. This was as presentable as I would ever be. With a deep breath, I left my room, taking care not to stumble in my too-high heels.

“You look lovely today, darling,” Ila murmured as she fell into step beside me. Her servant’s dress had been replaced with a clean, cotton shift embroidered with tendrils of ivy and orange flowers. Her cheeks were bright with powder.

“So do you.” I couldn’t help but let my nerves show a little. My fingers balled up into fists.

Observant as ever, Ila patted the small of my back. Her hands, light as a bird’s touch, were warm and comforting. “It’s nothing to be scared of, sweetling. It’s just something new, that’s all. Something different. Change isn’t a bad thing.” I nodded mechanically, but my fears were plainly still evident in my expression, for Ila continued her quiet reassurances. “Let go of your misgivings and unfounded worries, Fina. The experience is what you make of it. And for what it’s worth, I think- I know– that you’re going to end up loving it.”