mardi muse: vlogs

In an attempt to both add a bit more structure to this blog and keep my creative juices flowing, I've decided to start shedding light on anything and everything that leaves me walking away feeling inspired. This week that thing would be vlogs. Side note: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They seem to be all I talk about anymore, so it only makes sense to showcase them first. After discovering The Lizzie Bennet Diaries earlier this year, I soon found myself mercilessly entangled in the black-hole-esque world of vlogs. But this time it wasn't fictional characters I was wrapped up with, it was real-life people. Though it's been quite some time, I've always enjoyed making little videos. So I suppose that's how vlogging initially captured my interest. But more than that, clicking back through content and seeing these vloggers change and grow, witnessing how their editing and storytelling adapted and improved, was fascinating. Besides, it's just plain cool when you find yourself relating to someone halfway around the world (an excellent A*Teens song, by the way! ha... no really)!

Without further ado, here are a few vlogs that I've really come to love. Honestly, I've started anticipating their weekly updates more than most tv shows. And that's saying something!

JacksGap. This is the exact vlog I can pinpoint for a) fanning the flames of vlog addiction and b) inspiring about 132 ideas for potential YA novels. Here's Jack with his twin Finn on their gap year, taking on challenges suggested by their subscribers:

Aren't they the cutest?! Ah! They make me feel like I'm aging backwards, because... akhfdkjflskfjslkdfj *fan flail*!!!!!! Love them.

Darkness is a harsh term, don't you think?

You want the moon. I didn't choose the name for nothing. Crazy love for It's a Wonderful Life aside, I've always been a dreamer on a large scale. While my dreams in life come in all shapes and sizes, they all seem rather big to me. They're big because they're special. Because they're mine. But while I'm standing on tip-toes reaching out for them, sometimes I get distracted... It doesn't slip my notice that some of my dreams look rather impossible to the outside world. And when I allow myself to shake off the blinkers and look around, I lose my balance. Suddenly I'm on my knees and wondering how I got there again. I beat myself up for not having an A-Z picture perfect plan, for struggling to keep my head above the water, for feeling left behind, for trundling through life without a road map, for nurturing my Peter Pan syndrome, for not listening enough and praying enough... For everything.

Usually dusting myself off after a fall like this is a rather quick affair. But yesterday, I was driving back from the airport and I completely snapped. I turned off the radio and started praying out loud; praying for clarity, direction, happiness, a shut door, an open door, a sign, peace, for His will to be my will, anything and everything. Before I could blink, I was in a flood of tears so blinding I almost had to pull over. It was like finally admitting something was wrong out loud just catapulted me backwards at full throttle. 

I don't know where I'm going. I don't know what I'm doing. And I hate that. But what I hate even more is that I somehow let myself get caught up in the dismal blah of winter, this strange transitional age, this funk, whatever it is. Somehow I got in the nasty habit I dislike most; comparing my chapter to everyone else's. Believing the lie that without a textbook plan or the job everyone fought over in the game of Life or a husband or a dog or a house without roommates who steal my ground chuck or aspirations that don't make strangers laugh out loud when you first meet, that somehow my life is not enough. That I am not enough.

I want a big life. I want the moon. And I believe that with a whole lot of help, I can lasso it and pull it down. Still, I need to remind myself that I'm going to aim and miss again and again and again... and again. It's not going to be a cake walk and it's not meant to be. Waiting has never been something I've really delighted in. Patience is not my forte. If anything, it's the opposite. But the moon isn't going to just fall out of the sky if I scream at it loud enough or stare it down long enough. Patience and skill take practice, conscious and never-ending practice. 

Not knowing the next step is a scary place to be. People talk about standing at the crossroads... I feel like I'm seeing that place approach, but instead of two or three roads branching out from it, there are hundreds and they look absolutely nothing alike. I want so much and that sight, the inevitability of making huge life decisions, is overwhelming. The beauty of it is, though, I don't have to make that decision alone. So before I get irrational in the face of the inevitable, before I so easily forget this game-changing and wonderful fact, I just need to remind myself that I'll never have to make that decision alone. *insert signature dance flail to the following*

"Roll Away Your Stone" ... Mumford & Sons live at Glastonbury 

Being hopeful, ridiculously hopeful, is a good thing. These desires weren't put in your heart for nothing. So know your ground, your Rock, get back on your feet, and reach for the moon all over again.

Hold My Hand Because I Might Disappear

"Wow! Oh wow!" It's not often that I have this reaction to the ending of a book, much less say it out loud. Despite the whole of Jellicoe Road, especially the final page, being full of sad, I actually squealed. How I didn't burst into tears is kind of miraculous. And how Melina Marchetta was able to weave together two separate tales so seamlessly is just plain magical. But more than just the stories, it was the weaving together of pure joy and unadulterated grief that was even more astounding. And, of course, it reads like an absolute dream:

I remember love. It's what I have to keep reminding myself. It's funny how you can forget everything except people loving you. Maybe that's why humans find it so hard getting over love affairs. It's not the pain they're getting over, it's the love.

Numerous love stories are scattered throughout the book. And I love that. Sometimes I feel like secondary characters are shoved into muted lifestyles where they're exempt from romantic or meaningful relationships, because it will somehow shadow or take away from the main character's experience. I'm always wanting more relationships whether it's on the main stage or in aisles or tucked away in the foyer. I like knowing that love is flourishing all around in all it's forms. So with all these characters feeling deeply, this was a true delight.

That being said, I need to just take a moment and... Jonah Griggs! AHHHHHDFJLSDFSK JONAH GRIGGS!!!!!!! Bookmark him as your next fictional boyfriend, ladies. He comes into the scene so tough and prickly, but his transformation in Taylor's eyes is dazzling. He's there for her in a way that no one else can be, with his past peering around every corner just like hers. Their chemistry is magnetic and consuming, their first kiss is the best! thing! ever!, but romance takes a back seat to their journey. It's so refreshing. And he's so... mmph! I can't even tell you! I don't want to spoil the kiss by quoting it here, so instead I'll just share one little moment I loved. It's as simple as Jonah ordering Taylor's breakfast when she's too overwhelmed to speak. White toast with marmalade and hot chocolate. He doesn't need to ask her what she wants. He just knows. It was just the sweetest! So sweet that I got a craving for the exact same thing and promptly pulled on my running shoes to dash down to the corner store to pick up a jar of marmalade.

Attempting to cure my book hangover with toast and marmalade, hot chocolate, and Jane Eyre.

Today we had a snow day sans actual snow. So while it was sleeting nonstop, I was curled up with characters like Taylor Markham and Jonah Griggs, Webb, Fitz, Tate, Narnie, and Jude. Characters so alive that you feel like if you were to reach your hand under the table, they'd interlace their fingers with yours just to say, 'I'm here. I've got you.' What separates this story, a mysterious tale of love and redemption, past, present, and future is something quite extraordinary, I think. For the past two years I've been keeping a record of every book I've read and written a little blurb about what I thought. After staring at the page for a while, the explanation for my reaction to this book was simple, but big. "This book has a soul." I, for one, can't think of a better kind of novel to pass a non-snow day with.

Read it. Maybe invest in some marmalade first. But read it.

To Glitz and Grand Staircases

Yesterday, my friends and I curled up with the new and improved Upstairs Downstairs to pass the chilly day. We were in no way trying to replace Downton Abbey as 1) that would be impossible and 2) we are no longer on speaking terms with that show anyway. And while I can't say Upstairs Downstairs stirred up a mind-blowing love affair, it had a certain charm. I love all things WWII era, so it was just my cup of tea. A much needed cup of tea post-Downton trauma. Sure, there was still a death in this series, but since I wasn't half as attached to these characters, I wasn't having an existential crisis before my feet hit the ground this morning. 

Gah! I want to make a life with this dress! (x)

Fashion is undoubtedly one of the biggest reasons why I'm so enamored with this era. Luckily, the costuming for this series was no exception. I kid you not, but the moment Keeley Hawes (love! do yourself a favor and watch her in Under the Greenwood Tree) appeared in her gold sequin dress, we all started SCREAMING! I can't explain it, in fact it seems the very antithesis of my taste, but in the past year I have become obsessed with all things gold and glittery. So when I saw this dress... ZOMG-I-WANT-TO-GET-MARRIED-IN-THAT-DRESS! *grabby hands*