I snapped an accidental picture of the sidewalk in front of my apartment complex today. It was a happy accident; when it came up on the screen I saved it because it was a great shot, and I couldn’t help thinking to myself when I saw it “Someday I’ll want to remember this.” It’s a snapshot that will one day encompass the entirety of my time spent here in this home I have made for myself in this building. I felt that it would one day come in handy to have this little snapshot; seeing it years from now, I’ll remember my life as it was here at this time.
I am one person of maybe fifteen that call this apartment building a home – this single building in our entire complex. Someone else may look at that same photo and recall different memories than I do, maybe not as positive even. For me, this building represents a stepping stone in my life. I made it to Phoenix; I moved out of Michigan. Simultaneously, I also graduated from college, and took a giant leap of faith and left everything behind but what could fit in my car to make the trek here. I started my life over this year – in every aspect of the phrase. And maybe this apartment isn’t the most glamorous home to some; maybe it isn’t the most prestigious building. But I’ll always remember my little apartment here fondly; that snapshot will carry with it the memories of basking in the sun the first few weeks after we got here, wondering whether it would ever stop shining. It will prompt memories of long mornings spent drinking coffee in bed, with the sun shining languidly in through my bedroom window. It will be a source of pride, a small reminder that I accomplished something once – something that I was proud of. On my darkest days, I will look back at this picture and smile, and I can only hope that I will remember how brave it was to pack up everything I owned and move across the country; I will remember that I have that strength and that bravery inside of me still.
Cohabitation never felt so cozy.
This is soon to be my new roommate and I. Screw you for falling in love, B. Helloo single new best friend!
Homeless people who try to make conversation with you while you’re clearly reading (the book that you only brought to avoid these EXACT conversations!)
Q: How many male novelists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
A: He lit a cigarette. His glass of whiskey lit a cigarette too. “I can only truly love my best friend,” he said, “but not in a gay way. Women wouldn’t understand it. They’re too gay.” Both of the cigarettes agreed.
click the link
source for the thing I reblogged earlier!
NEVER OVER “The terrible sex had made him feel deeply interesting, like a murder victim.”
OH MY GOD SERIOUSLY CLICK THE LINK
10 Steps to Becoming a Better Writer
Write even more.
Write even more than that.
Write when you don’t want to.
Write when you do.
Write when you have something to say.
Write when you don’t.
Write every day.
Brian Clark (via novelmoments)
THIS is the spirit of NaNoWriMo.
The biggest truth. There is no better motivator than adrenaline - both caffeine fueled and time enforced.