If hers was the precise angle of cut crystal flashing in the light,
His was the warm glow of a candle through bone china.
If hers was long-stemmed red roses,
His was garden roses, on a trellis, still growing.
Broken Chords, Barbara Snow Gilbert

D E A R E S T L O V E S :
the season of winter; sunny, cool, clear, winter days; staring into the night sky, gazing up at sparkling stars; the smell of cinnamon; eating ice cream from a mug; a warm cup of hot chocolate; plot bunnies that refuse to leave my side; wearing braids and having wavy hair afterwards; watching films at the theatres; reading subtitles; scented candles; brand-new novels from a bookstore; black and white film; traditional, film cameras; azure, the color of the ever-glorious sky; trying on sunglasses; lit chandeliers; old pairs of well-worn jeans; cursive writing; elegant computer fonts; speaking in medieval English; looking through old yearbooks and reading what old classmates and old friends wrote; dark chocolate; translucent rainbows after a storm; heavy rainstorms; straight As on a report card; people-watching; eating animal crackers; happy endings; calligraphy pens; using inky, fine-point pens that bleed through loose leaf paper; watching a butterfly in flight; making others laugh; making-up words; foreign accents; singing when I don't think anyone's listening; ballet; using sounds to convey feelings; the smell of roses; being in a theatre; candid photography; staying home and literally reading all day; leaving the library with thick novels, typically around ten; pouring out my heart and mind in writing; the perfect words coming from seemingly nowhere; floriography, the language of flowers; graphology, the study and analysis of handwriting; the significance of symbolism; the smell of old books; reading a worn book of poetry; being hypnotized by a famous, well-known poem or poet; daydreaming; taking naps that last for hours; school pictures that turn out well; understanding a piece of literature; baking cakes; serendipity; college-ruled loose leaf paper; umbrellas; names; graphing calculators; the French language; grammar, its rules and all; imaginary conversations; irony; the beautiful paintings of Degas; shocking and surprising people; pick-up trucks; listening to country music; writing a good literary analysis or commentary; the majestic horse; the arctic fox; new magazines; Mugglecast; classical music; frantic airports; filling a sketchbook; shopping at a flea market; not bargaining; debate; real smiles in photographs; the charm of small towns; the act of taking tests; coloring coloring books and pages; colored pencils; watching and listening to musical auditions; self-diagnosis, despite its risks; new haircuts; pretty dresses my size; subways; trains.

I adore my language, arts, and history courses.
I consider English to be my forte and my largest passion.
The theatre is a place of near sacredness to me.
"Pride and Prejudice" is my all-time favorite movie.
The deeper meaning of "The Red Balloon" astonishes me.
"Anne of Green Gables" is a nearly perfect television miniseries.
Any documentary, period era film, culinary show, or silent film enchants me completely.

I always have a book in my hands.
My favorite series is the Chanters of Tremaris Trilogy by Kate Constable.
How to Be Popular: A Novel by Meg Cabot and Shug by Jenny Han are the cutest books I have ever read.
Broken Chords by Barbara Snow Gilbert and Sirena by Donna Jo Napoli are the saddest and most tragic.
Beauty: A Retelling of Beauty and the Beast by Robin McKinley is the best fairy tale retelling.
The Uglies Seriesby Scott Westerfeld really opened my eyes to a lot of the flaws of humanity.
Anne of Green Gables, by Lucy Mead Montgomery, is the classic that I can read the most easily and adore the most.
The Gemma Doyle Trilogy of Libba Bray are the most addicting gothics.
The Forestwife Trilogy by Theresa Tomlinson also happens to be lovely.
All the King's Men by the ingenius Robert Penn Warren has me in literal tears with every reading. (Yes, a book on politics, of all things.)
I love a good historical fiction or fantasy.

And if you haven't noticed, I am a hopeless romantic at heart.
(I also have a thing for vampires and tortured souls.)
One of my goals is to tour Europe and all its subtle glories.

I will one day be an author.
(I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life doing anything else.)

I am a Christian, first and foremost.

I look back.
Mama is standing on the front porch watching us.
Beautiful, she mouths.
I feel like I could cry.
For the first time ever, I feel it.
Beautiful, I mean.
Shug, Jenny Han

You soda crackers! I remember
when I arrived here in the rain,
whipped out and alone.
How we shared the aloneness
and the quiet of this house.
And the doubt that held me
from fingers to toes
as I took you out
of your cellophane wrapping
and ate you, meditatively,
at the kitchen table
that first night with cheese,
and mushroom soup. Now,
a month later to the day,
an important part of us
is still here. I'm fine.
And you--I'm proud of you, too.
You're even getting remarked
on in print! Every soda cracker
should be so lucky.
We've done all right for
ourselves. Listen to me.
I never thought
I could go on like this
about soda crackers.
But I tell you
the clear sunshiny
days are here, at last.
"Soda Crackers", Raymond Carver

Apparently, high school upperclassmen get the witty and sarcastic teachers.
It's wonderful. :)