North Carolina

I was next. I was next, and my heart was in a million places at once, and my mind was struggling to run through the hundred million things I wanted to say. How do you summarize a lifetime of admiration and respect into a single, three-minute interaction?

*Record scratching*

Yep, that’s me. I bet you’re wondering how I got myself into this situation.

Our story begins somewhere in the mid-2000s. Without a bookstore to sustain her, Yours Truly was scavenging the library shelves, reading anything and everything she could possibly get her hands on. Moving on from the Junior Fiction section to Young Adult felt like a rite of passage, and it was there that I found Sarah Dessen.

I latched onto her books in a way that I still can’t quite understand. Even now, as a Grown-Up reader drifting farther and farther from the core YA demographic, I find myself growing the Dessen collection on my shelf with every book she releases. Every time I think I’ve moved on from the young adult section of the bookstore, she drags me back, and I find myself once again invested in a teen summer love story. She shaped my adolescent reading habits and set the standard for the contemporary styles I still enjoy to this day. Her books have been a solid constant for more than half of my life.

More than that, though, she came to be a role model of sorts. She was so honest about the writing process and how hard it was. I would grow to appreciate this more than I initially realized; when I struggled with my writing, when it became so hard and scary that I doubted whether I had it in me to keep going, I would see photos of her own abandoned projects, see her tweets about her doubts and frustrations, and I would sink in relief. I wasn’t alone—the struggles and doubts were a normal part of the process. Sarah showed me that writing was allowed to be hard.

Fast forward to summer 2017. I packed my entire life—or at least, all that would fit—into a suitcase and flew down to Orlando in May. I got to live my dream of living in Disney World, making magic, meeting amazing people, and going to the parks on almost every day off I had. In fact, there were only three instances in which I didn’t spend my day off in the park: 

1) When I went to the beach and got horrendously sunburnt, even though I put on sunscreen. Twice.

2) When I flew home to surprise my sister for her high school grad, immediately after getting horrendously sunburnt. (Even though I put on sunscreen.) (Twice.)

3) When I took an overnight train to travel through four states to Raleigh, North Carolina, for what amounted to a 12-hour day trip.

Here’s the thing about living in Canada: nobody comes here. Sure, select cities may see a few tour stops from popular bands, but anyone living outside the GTA knows the pain of being skipped over by their favourite artists, musical or otherwise. This is most prevalent in places like southern Manitoba, a location which Taylor Swift has skipped during her last TWO (2) tours. The closest any of the authors on my shelf have ever gotten to Manitoba is Toronto—which is to say, not very close at all.

But as luck would have it, my Disney internship wasn’t the only thing that was happening that summer. In June 2017, Sarah Dessen would be releasing her then-newest novel, Once and For All, followed up by a book tour in select cities across the United States. For the first time, I felt like I had a real chance to actually meet her. Then in May, the dates dropped: 11 stops across six states, and guess which city didn’t make the cut?

So I did what any sane person would do—I looked up every city on the map, found the closest stop to Orlando, and booked a nine-hour train ticket to Raleigh, North Carolina.

The plan was simple: stuff a backpack full of essentials, save money on accommodations by sleeping on the train, successfully meet one of my biggest creative inspirations, and arrive back in Florida in time for work the following evening. All I had to do was get one of my shifts covered, and I was good to go.

I made it to the train station in downtown Orlando with little excitement and fanfare. The station was busier than I expected, filled with families carrying armloads of plastic Disney park bags—a hallmark of the ending vacation. I had travelled by train only one other time in my life. The car then had been barren, but this time the train was packed. “I’m visiting family in Raleigh for the week,” the man sitting beside me said. “What about yourself?”

I told him that I was only going up for a day, for a book signing.

“You wrote a book?” he asked, and he sounded so impressed that I almost didn’t want to correct him. The truth was far less exciting.

Even I had to admit that the whole adventure seemed rather crazy—coming all this way for such a short interaction. But I also knew that I couldn’t miss this opportunity. There was this weird sense of urgency attached to the trip; it may not be my only chance to meet Sarah, but it would definitely be my first real chance, and it would almost certainly be my best chance. Because even when Sarah did make the trek to Canada, she was always farther from me there than she was now, this faithful summer.

Which brings us back here—to me, standing in a bookstore in a city that I hadn’t known existed until a few weeks prior. I could never hope to express to Sarah just how important her writing has been to me, and I certainly couldn’t do it in such a brief encounter. I’m not even sure I remember what I said in the end. Something about being from Canada, but also somehow Orlando, about the long and complex journey I had taken to find myself standing in front of her—the journey I had hardly expected to take at all. 

And then, it was over. I was ushered along, dazed and jittery, to make room for the next reader.

The sun was already setting by the time I boarded the train back to Florida. The lights in the car were dimmed, other passengers more tired and wary than I hunkering down to get some sleep. I knew that I should probably be doing the same—I had to work the next day, after all, and who knew how much time I’d have for sleep by the time I got back home. But when I curled up in my seat, I instead pulled my new book out of my bulging backpack, tracing over the signature on the first page, revelling in my proof that this whole thing had happened. 

Plus, the whole trip counted as my monthly “cultural activity,” as required under my J-1 work visa. So y’know. Two birds, one stone, etc.

Until later,

- Justyne

The Literary Canon is BALONEY

In my final year of university, one of my biggest assignments (we're talking, like, 50% of my grade) was to make a documentary. In my frantic search for B-roll material at 2am, I discovered a video criticizing the lack of required courses for the "literary greats." As an example, they referred to UCLA, whose English Literature program requires a selection of literary courses around topics like gender, race, critical theory, etc....but "not a single course in Shakeseare."

I had two problems with this:

1) I studied a different Shakespeare play in every year of high school, plus his sonnetts in my Intro English 1 class at university—there is definitely no lack of mandatory Shakespearean studies in the academic world.

2) Putting all issues of racism, sexism, and politics aside: who decides the literary canon? And who the hell decided it was so important?

(It's also worth noting that UCLA does require one course in each of four different historical periods, one of which will almost certainly cover Shakespeare, so the reliability of this creator is....questionable, at best. But I digress.)

In case you've forgotten: I was an English major. I didn't like English at first; we read Beowulf, sonnets, Shakespeare, and all the other old and stuffy material that is consistently considered part of some overarching and universal "Literary Canon." I hated the literary canon. It was boring, it was hard to understand, and—no matter what my high school English teacher said—I just couldn't see how studying stuff written over a hundred years ago could possibly help my writing skills in the present day.

But in the latter half of my studies, I started taking courses studying things like fairy tales, graphic novels, Disney movies. Almost immediately, I started enjoying my studies more. I was also frequently met with incredulous expressions and questions of amazement whenever I detailed my academic escapades. And I'll admit—writing a research paper analyzing themes of romance and sacrifice in Tangled and The Little Mermaid hardly felt like "real" school.

One of my absolute favourite courses in my degree was called "Popular Literature and Film." My professor emphasized, over and over, that you can do a close reading analysis on anything—anything. We started with Inside Out and The Marvelous Land of Oz, and worked our way to Carrie and Fast Times at Ridgemont High. The point of the class was to see that there is meaning in everything, not just in "literary" media.

Really, all you have to do is take a step into any fandom community to realize the true magnitude of this lesson. Fans notice everything—every pause, every miniscule action, the implications of every editing choice or cinematographic element. Have you seen those Taylor Swift easter egg articles? This one opens with an analysis of a music video release date. Fans dig deep.

But they dig deep because they care. They're motivated, they're interested, so they huddle over media over and over and over again, looking for any scrap of meaning they can find.

I think sometimes people are hesitant to extend media and literature studies beyond the accepted literary canon because there's this ongoing perception that entertainment is incompatible with artistic integrity. Or that there's a departure in quality between "good" (ie: "conventionally literary") books and stuff designed to entertain the masses—like the difference between an indie, avant-garde film and a blockbuster action flick.

But you can read something BOTH for its critical, thought-provoking content AND still read it as simply enjoyable. I learned more about how to think critically when I was thinking about media that I enjoyed, rather than media that came with a Spark Notes study guide. In fact, I'd argue that learning to think critically about media you enjoy at face value can be far more beneficial than looking for the same Great Gatsby symbolism that everyone else has already found.

I think it's increasingly important that we don't start with the stuffy, the hard, and the boring; we should be focusing on the light, the fun, and the interesting. All throughout high school, I think I studied maybe one book that I liked. And don't get me wrong, university had more than its fair share of bad books—but I also had the priviledge of both finding and studying books that I genuinely enjoyed, which ultimately resulted in papers that (now, outside of the bleary, nocturnal habits of a procrastinating student) I'm actually kind of proud of.

ENGLISH CLASS CAN BE FUN! It doesn't have to be about interpreting character emotions through curtain colours. It can be about interpreting new symbolism from your favourite movie, or discussing performative ghostlore in a Shane Dawson video and a 4chan thread. (I would know; I wrote that paper.) How am I supposed to know if a program is a good fit when the first thing we study is a text so old that it has to be translated to English...from English.

This is, of course, not to dismiss or diminish the actual important of the older works that make up "the literary canon." The stuff we write today is influenced, however subconsciously, by all that stuff written 200 years ago. And the canon hasn't stuck around for no reason, either; the stories and themes continue to be relevant and relateable. They speak to us and appeal to us, and thus continue to be important. But, if anything, this makes it all the more valuable to study the canon alongside the more "popular," the more "modern," or any other works that we often exclude form the literary canon. Studying both allow us to notice the similarities and trends and to more fully understand why the older texts are important in the first place.

But to assume that the literary canon is the only source of valuable and critical interpretation is...well, ignorant. And boring. Not to mention kind of gatekeeper-ish. I promise, there is just as much academic benefit in studying recent Canadian graphic novels as there is in any Charles Dickens book you throw at me.

Until later,

- Justyne

A Graduate FAQ

Let me paint you a picture: it's my final day of my undergrad career. My sleep-deprived ass is in the school library, running purely on the caffeine pumping through my bloodstream and the adrenaline of powering through 1200 words in four hours. I wrote an exam this morning, I have one more tiny assignment to do this afternoon, and I've just (miracously, with thirty minutes to spare), finished my take home exam. I save the document, close the program, and open up the web browser to submit the exam.

The file is gone.

I open every folder (every. folder.). I search the entire PC. I reopen Word to check the “Recently Opened” tab. Nothing.

Naturally, I ambush the circulation desk in a frenzy, limbs flying as I explain to the blinking clerks why my life is currently exploding before my very eyes. After ten harrowing minutes, the tech guy was called, and it was then I learned that Firefox has a top secret “temporary download folder” that is only accessible through the browser itself. (Firefox, please.) The document was submitted, I finished my last assignment, and then proceeded to go home and pass out for a little while.

But that was five weeks ago, and now it’s over. I’m officially* a University Graduate™. And as with any graduation, I’ve already fallen into the routine of answering the same sequence of questions over and over (and over) again. So in the interest of efficiency (and saving my sanity), I have compiled some of these questions into one location for everyone to peruse at their convenience.

(*pending my actual convocation on June 13th.)

How does it feel to be done?

In all honesty, I don't think it's entirely sunk in yet that I'm done, and it probably won't until fall rolls around and I'm not stuck in a classroom somewhere. (Or when November hits and the government starts taking its money back by force.)

What are you graduating with?

My five years of torture have earned me a Bachelor of Arts in English (with emphasis on Creative Writing) and a minor in Human Geography.

And what can you do with that?

• Editor
• Copywriter (ie: advertising)
• Technical writer
• Some kind of library job, although most require a whole other degree that I don't want to pay for.

What’s the minor good for?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Will you ever get a masters degree?

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered it. I learned a lot in my creative writing classes, and didn’t really get to dedicate as many credits to the craft as I would have liked. But let's cool our jets for like thirty seconds--I need a breather before I even THINK about jumping head first into another two years of mental breakdowns.

Student debt is also disgusting and I’m not really in the mood to double it.

Are you going to work for Disney again?

....maybe.

Are you published yet?

Hush.

So what's next?

I just...want a job. So somebody hire me. Please. P l e a s e.

In the meantime, I'll be here! Blogging away for anyone who cares to listen.


Until later,

- Justyne

Every Book I Read in 2018 (aka The Most Subjective Ranking Ever, with No Explanation)

I stopped doing book reviews for several reasons, but the biggest reason was time: I lacked the time both for the reviews themselves, and the time to actually read the number of books necessary to maintain any form of consistency.

So instead, for 2018, I kept an ongoing document of every book I read throughout the year and rated them in order from my most favourite to my least favourite. For the most part I rated them as I finished them, but I also went back and reordered them after reflecting on them further. I didn't really have any sort of system for rating these books--they're based mostly on how much I enjoyed them, because I find that my subjective enjoyment is the only real way to compare a poetry collection to a historical fiction to a microfiction collection to a YA rom-com to a--well, you get the idea.

For added fun, I also decided to colour code them! Purple is for pure leisure reading, green is for mandatory uni reading, and blue is for books that weren't assigned for uni, but that I read to fulfill some sort of class assignment.

We're starting from the bottom-up, with #23 being my least favourite and #1 being my absolute favourite. A poor ranking does not necessarily mean it was bad, but that other books were better.

(I mean, some of them were bad, but I'm not here to spill tea.)


23. Fox by Margaret Sweatman (1991)

22. All That She Can See by Carrie Hope Fletcher (2017)

21. Rosie Dunne (also published under the name Love, Rosie) by Cecilia Ahern (2005)

20. Girls Like Us by Gail Giles (2014)

19. How It Went Down by Kekla Magoon (2014)

18. Seen Reading by Julie Wilson (2012)

17. He Said, She Said by Kwame Alexander (2013)

16. Fly on the Wall by E. Lockhart (2006)

15. Waking in Time by Angie Stanton (2017)

14. Outlander by Diana Gabaldon (1991)

13. That Inevitable Victorian Thing by E.K. Johnston (2017)

12. The Wars by Timothy Findley (1977)

11. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie (2007)

10. Story: Substance, Structure, Style, and the Principles of Screenwriting by Robert McKee (1997)

9. The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories by Angela Carter (1979)

8. A Million Worlds with You by Claudia Gray (2016)

7. Exit, Pursued by a Bear by E.K. Johnston (2016)

6. Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes (2015)

5. Hamilton: The Revoltion by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Jeremy McCarter (2016)

4. Fan Art by Sarah Tregay (2014)

3. Ash by Malinda Lo (2009)

2. Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery (1908)

1. The Princess Saves Herselve in This One by Amanda Lovelace (2016)


Book reviews were fun for a while, but going forward I hope to focus on improving my Friday and Monday content. (Y'know, when school isn't beating me over the head with a flaming stick.)

Until later,

- Justyne




(I'm sorry I meant to post this a whole lot earlier.)

Experiences

I always hear the advice to, "write what only you can!" To write the story that only you can tell, the story that's deep inside your soul and just begging to be told. To write the story that you would want to read.

I love this advice; I think it's valid and helpful because writing something you're interested in and passionate about will always turn out better than writing something that you think others will want to read. That's what brings diversity to the realm of stories--if we base our writing on what we think (or know) others already read, then every book would just be the same.

HOWEVER. While I'm all for writing the book you'd want to read, sometimes...I don't want to. I just want to cut to the reading part.

Now, I like reading and writing about the same amount. (Actually, scratch that. I like reading more because it's less work and the gratification is more instant.) I will happily work to write more stories about things that I find lacking in the ones that are already around. But writing a story myself doesn't provide the same feeling as reading one by somebody else, y'know?

Writing and reading are both about discovery--but reading is about discovering something that's out there, the thrill of finding something that you never knew existed. Writing is more about discovering what's inside you--the aforementioned "story that only you can tell."

Does any of this make sense? (I'm trying, here.)

Writing is more about getting the story right. You have this story, this idea, this sliver of a universe in your mind, and you have to do it justice. You have to. And so this results in a lot of trial and error, as you work your way through and learn more about this world that you've created and these characters that you've invented to live there.

Reading is about finding what already exists. Someone has--hopefully--already gotten the story right. If they have, it's like a friend on your couch with a warm cup of coffee in their hands, telling you about all the crazy shit that went down in the last couple weeks. They pull you in and make you care, and on their best days, they give you something to relate and identify with.

With reading, the excitement comes from following an unfamiliar path. Someone else did all the hard work, so now all you have to do is stroll on down and enjoy what they've done with it. With writing, you're the one doing all the hard work--and that's the exciting part. You choose where the path goes, and if you pick a route that doesn't work, you block it off and change course. You choose what the hiker sees, what exists for them to explore. And by the end of it, you know the whole place backwards, forwards, inside out and upside down.

So sometimes, I'm feeling adventurous. I want to put in the work, I have a decent strategy to do it, and I'm excited to turn everything in my head into something more concrete that can be enjoyed.

And other times, I just want talk the easy road and enjoy someone else's story.

As a writer, my first instict is to fill a void in the literary world myself. I notice something missing, so I immediately think that I should be the one to fill it. But at the end of the day, I get a different kind of satisfaction from finishing a story than I do from reading one--and, understandably, I don't get the same kind of satisfaction from reading my own stories.

Ah, the struggles of a writer.


Until later,

- Justyne

Why I (Almost) Never Read Adult Fiction

If you've been paying attention for the last, oh, almost two years or so, you'll probably notice that most of the books I read are YA. I can count on one hand the number of times I've read books that classify as adult fiction (not including classics, or books read for no other reason than a school curriculum) on one hand. In fact, I'll list them for you right now:

1. Pinch Me

2. How to Fall in Love

3. Attachments

4. Landline

5. On the Other Side 

6. Maybe Someday

7. November 9 

8. The Help

9. Heat Wave

...Okay, so maybe I require slightly more than one hand. But still, compare these 9 books to the other 192 on my Goodreads read list. Statistically, I tend to lean towards the YA spectrum. There is a reason for this: 99% of every adult fiction book I've pulled off the shelf has been about a character who is 30-ish years old, facing Real Adult Problems surrounding marriage, kids, careers, etc--things that I can't really relate to, because I'm a forever single 22-year-old who can't even be trusted to make a proper dinner once a week (let alone every day).

Now, I don't want to say that I'm "growing out of" YA. That statement implies that, as a Certified Grown-Up™, my interests and I are somehow above the level of YA fiction. I don't believe that this is possible. I remain firmly behind the stance that anyone can enjoy YA fiction, or middle grade fiction, or children's picture books, and I also firmly believe that anyone who thinks otherwise is a condescending a-hole who can put their equally condescending opinions in a certain place where the sun don't shine.

But I digress.

I may not be growing out of YA, but lately I've been struggling to find books that follow characters closer to my age range. I've been sticking to the older end of the YA protagonist spectrum, but the oldest character you're likely to find headlining a YA novel is 18--19 tops, if you're lucky. But I stick around, because that's still closer than the 30-and-up protagonists that plague every other corner in the bookstore.

It is, of course, entirely possible to enjoy a book, regardless of the protagonist's age. Most of the time, it doesn't really matter--all I care about is that the tone of the book fits in with the mood I'm in. And I'm not less likely to enjoy adult fiction. Look at Rainbow Rowell--she wrote both Fangirl, a YA novel, and Attachments, categorized in adult fiction. I read both, and enjoyed both equally.

But I'll be damned, I want more books about 22-year-olds! I want more books following university and college students! I want books about people in their fourth year realizing they've hated their major this whole time. I want books about people who go on gap years, who go on vacation and just never come back, because who really needs responsibilities, anyway? I want books about people who genuinely have no career plans, and people who are just flying by the seat of their pants, because sometimes that's an okay thing to do. I want more books about people my age.

Maybe I'm not looking hard enough.

Until later,

- Justyne

The Illusion of Productivity (BEDS 009)

My name is Justyne, and I am in love...with office supplies.

When I was younger, and still attended public school, I put on this huge show of not wanting summer to end. I complained about school coming up, I protested our back-to-school Winnipeg shopping trip, I made a face every time I saw any back-to-school advertisement, or a pack of pencils on sale at Wal-Mart. But all the while, I was hiding an immense secret.

I loved it. Every second of it. I loved the fresh paper, the new notebooks, the pens that were ripe and full of ink for me to scrawl onto every scrap piece of parchment I could find. I loved shopping for new clothes, even though they were all sweaters that I knew I wouldn't be able to wear for another month yet. I even loved packing up my backpack on the first day, preparing for another year of learning.

I love shopping for school and office supplies. I love buying post-it notes, even though I always lose them before I use them. I love buying pens, even though I have such a huge stash that I could probably get by without ever having to buy a new pack again. I love buying pencils, even though I only use them for exams. I love buying notebooks, even though I have an iPad and take all my notes digitally, now, because I can type three times faster than I can write.

And for the longest time, I didn't know why. Why did I love buying these things? Why, even when I was out of school, did I feel the urge to buy every agenda, every pack of highlighters and binder I saw? Why is Staples one of my favourite stores to fall prey to capitalism for?

It gave me this feeling, this air of satisfaction that I couldn't place or name for the longest time...until someone named it for me. Some random stranger on the internet, some Tumblr user for whom I will probably never learn the username of, was able to accurately describe this feeling that I've always been at a loss for.

This person, whose username I've long since forgotten, called it, "The illusion of productivity."

And they were so freaking right.

Everytime I find myself in Staples, buying school supplies, I'm imagining a better life for myself. Because if I buy these post-its, these pens, this abnormally large box of multi-coloured paper clips, surely I'll be a more productive person, right? Simply the presence of this shiny new box of supplies will do wonders for my motivation, right?

Except not really. It never quite works out that way. I'll use the pens, sure, but it won't magically make my life any better. And does anyone even really need that many paper clips?

Yet the cycle always starts anew, every time I enter the store. I am tempted by the organizers, the planners, the label makers (because I am apparently in dire need of a label maker, according to my heart). Any possible item that holds the possibility of incresed organization, you can find me drooling over.

And still, my life remains an unorganized mess. C'est la vie, I guess.


Until later,

- Justyne

New York, New York

I have always, always, always, always, always wanted to live in New York. I am entirely aware that this is a notion spurred by movies, and television shows, and books that romanticize this idea of living in the "greatest city in the world". I'm not even sure I ever want to follow through with this desire, because there is no way it will live up to what I envision it to be

And yet, today I watched You've Got Mail for probably the hundredth time in my life, and found myself wishing once again.

I've always loved that movie. Maybe it's the books. Maybe it's the romance. Maybe it's the fact that it's always had a very cool, autumn vibe, because that's when the story starts off. Or maybe because, just like Mr. Joe Fox, I love the idea of New York in the fall.

It was fourteen degrees today, as we packed up the car and headed home after a visit in Regina. It's the coldest I've seen since spring faded into summer over three months ago, and the second time I've chosen pants over shorts in the last week. Two weeks ago I did my back-to-school clothes shopping, picking up sweaters and jeans and other clothes suitable for chilly weather. In another seven days, my birthday will be here, and school will follow shortly after.

Summer is nearing an end. Even though the temperatures are set to climb high once again in the coming week, and will very likely stay that way for a while yet, the sweet, sweet freedom of a student's summer will soon be over.

It kinda sucks, sure. I'll be sad to hide away my sundresses, of course. But I love fall, and the winter that follows. I love curling up under blankets, having a warm cup of hot chocolate to accompany a movie. I even love the fresh start a new school year brings--y'know, before the assignments and exams start. 

When fall comes, I will gladly welcome it with open arms.

Until later,

- Justyne

Visualization

When I find myself in a bookstore--which, let's be honest, I often do--I like to mentally shelve my books. I find the E authors--there are never very many of them--and run my hands down the spines until I find where my name fits.

There. Somewhere between Emond and Everett; that's where my book would go--where it will go, someday.

It's weird, I know. But as dorky as it is, I still do it.

You know what else I do? I constantly pin pictures of home offices on Pinterest. I torture myself for days and days on end with this images of beautiful writing spaces, that I would love to incorporate into my own home but can't because I'm poor. (And also because I don't have that much space to decorate to begin with.)

I do these things frequently, for the same reasons that people make vision boards--I like to see my goals in a way that can often be difficult, because I'm not psychic, and can in no way see the future. I like to picture the way that my writing space would look like, if I had the space, time, and money decorate it as I see fit. I like to find where my name fits, because it somehow makes it more likely that it will fit. Like somehow, the spot is waiting for me, waiting for my future debut novel to slide on into the place it was always meant to be.

It works that way in reverse, too. I have hard copies of just about everything I wrote in high school--every short story, every poem, every brief excerpt of every vague novel premise I had. I keep every journal, every notebook, every scrap piece of paper I scribble on. It gets crammed into a drawer, and even though I never look at it much, it helps to have it around. For whatever reason, having this physical representation of everything I've worked towards makes it more valid. Like I've actually accomplished something, instead of screaming into the void of my own mind.

I always mean to make a vision board, I do. But it never works out--I keep putting it off, because it's too much work and I'm too lazy to set aside the time to do it. I almost don't think I will, because my goals and ambitions change so frequently that it'd be impossible to document everything accurately. I'd rather spend that extra time working towards it, and save the daydreaming for my commute. (And, okay, maybe my shift, too.)

I daydream a lot. But sometimes, it's nice to have something more concrete to look at.

Until later,

- Justyne

Internet Branding

This day has been a long time coming, my friends. Since as early as 2014, I've been brainstorming and daydreaming and sketching out concepts for a new look to my social media. Every time I started plotting something out, it would get pushed to the back burner--by moving, by school, by NaNoWriMo and a million other projects that were deemed more important and more worthy of my time.

And now, finally....it's done.

It started with a logo. A little doodle of myself that I drew at the beginning of 2015, that you now find plastered all over my social media accounts. As the months turned into a year, I started sketching things every now and then--ideas for how I wanted my blog to look, how I imagined my Twitter header transforming my page. Just last month, I had an epiphany--in a sudden burst of inspiration, I suddenly knew exactly what I wanted my blog to look like.

A couple weeks ago, I launched my Facebook page. In the days since, I have uploaded previews, sneak peeks, progress shots of what I was looking for. I hesitated to set a date of when the new layout would go live, because I didn't know if I could make it.

Then I did. This would be the week. Friday would be the day. So I put it out there, made the promise. And now, here we are. This project has fuelled me the last few weeks--I've stayed up late, I've shoved everything else to the side. I tweaked and pulled and shifted and changed the opacity about a hundred million times.

Now look...look at how pretty it is!

This blog has been long overdue for a major redecorating. The initial layout was one I smashed together quickly--I snapped a picture of some notebooks, through some text and a quick overlay, and off I went. It was fine at the time, and it worked for quite a while, but I'm so, so happy to be moving on and displaying something new.

I'm not just satisfied of this, I'm darn right proud. (Although don't be surprised if you catch small, additional changes in the coming weeks, because I'm still experimenting and trying things out. The fact that I had this much ready at all is a miracle, if you ask me.) I always find it hard to design something uniquely me, because there's so many different things that I want to display that it's often hard to narrow my focus to just one aspect. But this feels right. This blog feels like me.

So click around, explore a bit. I'm so happy to finally be able to show you the finished product, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed working away at it!

Until later,

- Justyne

Story Revivals

I am not going to talk about the new Harry Potter book, for two reasons.

Reason #1: I never really read the Harry Potter books growing up.

Reason #2: When I tried to read the Harry Potter books, I discovered that I didn't actually like it very much. (Which, for my generation, is an apparent crime agianst books. And yet, here we are.)

All the excitement and build-up to the actual release (which, at the time of writing this, was just last night at midnight) has got me thinking, though, about all the recent revivals of classic, beloved franchises that we've seen in recent years. We got a new Star Wars movie back in December, a new Ghostbusters movie just this past month. Finding Dory came out after thirteen years of Ellen Degeneres begging for a sequel. Everyone--everyone--is playing Pokemon GO. The third season of the Sailor Moon remake just wrapped up a couple months ago.

And now, an eigth Harry Potter book, after nine years of publication silence.

Regardless of what it is, I love--love--franchise revivals. I know there are lots of cynics out there who grumble and moan, about how nothing these days is original, how the sequel ruins everything, how a remake is unnecessary and just proves that Hollywood will do anything for a money grab.

To all those Negative Nellies, I have only four words--shut the hell up.

The excitement on the internet this week is palpable. All the fans that grew up with Harry Potter, that have treasured the series in childhood, are bouncing off the walls at the prospect of an eighth book finally coming out. I am not a part of this fandom, but even as an outsider I can see how important this is. Everyone my age gets hit with a wave of nostalgia, as they get to live through this experience that they've only known from a child's perspective.

Not only that, but now the new generation of fans, who were introduced to the series long after it's original publication run finished, get to live through the excitement for the first time. They get to discover what a Harry Potter midnight release is like, they get to live in the excitement of a new book for the first time.

It's an incredible feeling, and no one has the right to deny anyone that excitement. Stories like Harry Potter are able to survive for so long because they matter to people. They make a difference to us, the readers, and can continue to have an influence on us for the rest of our lives.

Stories matter. And the reality of seeing our old favourites renewed in any form doesn't just revitalize our love for a story, or make it relevant in mainstream media again--it revitalizes a community and brings it together.

I don't know. I just thing revivals are pretty damn great.


Until later,

- Justyne

A Change of Scenery (or: How to Do All the Things When You Have None of the Time)

I wish I had an office. I wish I had a room that I could furnish, decorate, and dedicate to the sole task of writing and getting other creative-ish work done in. More than that, I often wish (like, every day) that I could just stay home and dedicate all of my time to doing creative-ish work, to starting and finishing all the projects my little heart desires to create.

Unfortunately, that is not the reality of my life. I've got bills to pay, and my creative projects aren't currently paying them. I need to work, and with school on top of that for half the year, I don't often find myself in a position to spend all day being creative at home. I'm constantly on the go, from Point A to Point B.

And yet, here I am--my 12th straight update, on schedule. (Kind of? It's still Friday if I haven't gone to bed, right?) Four straight weeks of Monday-Wednesday-Friday updates, with only a couple that were uploaded later than my 4pm goal time. Maybe it's because it's summer, but I'm kicking ass on the blogging scene regardless, with more behind the scenes work done on top of that.

I'm not stupid. I know I'm probably jinxing it right now. But let me fill you in on the secret to my competence--Starbucks.

(I am not sponsered by Starbucks but I would like to point out that I'm a poor college student and would definitely not turn down any money.)

Kay but actually. In the last few weeks, I've been spending a little bit more time at Starbucks than normal, which--shockingly enough--has lead to an astounding amount of productivity on my part. I've drafted blogs multiple weeks in advance, my uploads are getting scheduled for 4 PM more often now than ever, and I'm pouring my blood, sweat, tears, and heart into this blog more than I ever have before. The productivity that encompasses me in the coffee shop is spilling over to the rest of my day, as I finish up a post at work, stay up late to finish other creative projects, and focus more and more time into my stories every day.

So that's the secret, short and sweet: a change in scenery. A refreshing alteration to your daily habits and routines. Something to make things interesting.

The best office you can have is your mindset. The best place to be creative is wherever you are in the moment. Sometimes it's easy to forget that, and it's definitely easy to put everything off until you have that special place--but there's no saying that special place can't be the Blogger app on your iPad.


Until later,

- Justyne

The Benefits of Having Creative Friends

So here's the thing: I'm kind of a hermit. Not kind of--I'm a very big hermit. I spend a huge chunk of my time in my room. Not even Pokemon Go can save me, because the majority of the Pokemon I've caught have been from either the comfort of my own home, or from my workplace while on break. Part of this is because I'm an extremely antisocial individual, and would much rather interact with fictional people than real ones.

The other, larger part, though, is because I'm always trying to get some writing done. (Keyword: trying. If I spent all of my antisocial time actually writing, I'd have like ten novels published and a movie franchise in the works by now.)

Writing is hard for the same reason doing homework is hard--I get distracted very, very easily when I'm first starting. Once I get in the groove, I'm good to go--it's getting into the groove that's the hard part. This is why I never try to write around friends, family, or pretty much anyone else that I know; I'm me, so I'll start talking, and then I'll never, ever stop. (I'm sure there are several people who can vouch the validity of this statement.)

I've heard time and time again that it's good to find people you can work around--that is, people with whom you can be productive while in their company. I've yet to find such magical unicorns in terms of my writing because, as mentioned previously, I never stop talking. (Ever.) So when I need to get some writing done, or finish up my term paper, or cram for an exam, I need to separate myself from everybody in order to reach the level of productivity I want.

For whatever reason, though, I've recently discovered that I don't have nearly the same trouble with drawing. I've been drawing on and off for, oh, about seven years now. (You wouldn't know, because in recent years I stopped putting aside as much time to do it. But I digress.)

Here's the thing with drawing: I don't need to concentrate on it. I mean to an extent, I guess, I do--but the level of concentration required to draw a straight line is much, much lower than that needed to construct a paragraph. I can talk and laugh with the person sitting beside me. I can listen to music and sing along. I can leave Netflix on autoplay and draw to my heart's desire, while still binge watching whatever show I'm currently hooked on. The door can stay open, and my work won't suffer as a result.

In the last couple weeks, I've drawn more than I have in, like...a year and a half. I think this is mostly due to the influx of sudden creativity I've found myself surrounded by; whether it's my roommate on a painting binge, or the company of a long-time internet friend, they've suddenly inspired me to throw my head back into my sketchbook and put my rusty skills (or lack thereof) to use.

I eagerly await the day that I meet a good writing buddy, who will inspire me in similar ways and get me to shut up and work. Until then, though, I'll take what I can get.

Do you have a friend (or several) who you can be very productive with? Let me know in the comments!

Until later,

- Justyne

How to Amuse Yourself in an Airport

Hello, friends! As I write this, I'm in a Starbucks down the street from my job, getting in a quick blog post before clocking in. As you read this, though, I've made the long trek down to the United States to visit a dear friend / buttface of mine. (Who just so happens to have a blog of her own.)

So as of now, obviously, I don't know what to expect from my journey, as I haven't started it yet. But what I do know is this--I have five hour layover scheduled in Minneapolis, which is sure to be one hell of a good time. (The sarcasm dripping from my fingertips is sure to fry my keyboard.) 

It's not my first layover, though, and it sure won't be my last. So here's a quick, simple, 8-step plan on how to amuse yourself in an airport:

Step 1: Find yourself a highly caffenated beverage.

The exact definition of this is obviously based on personal preferance, but I myself go for a double shot on ice from Starbucks. Gotta get them espresso shots in my system, because by this point I've already been up for a solid five hours and it's still only 9 AM. The alternative is, of course, to nap in your terminal, but sleep is for the WEAK. (And I'm going to nap in the air, anyway, so might as well focus on some productivity now.)

Step 2: Find yourself some prime outlet location.

This can be hard to find at times, but damn it, you're here for more than half a work day, so you have time to do some searching. Venture bravely outside the limits of your gate, and leave a trail of breadcrumbs behind you so you don't get lost.

Step 3: Make a list of everything you want to do.

This includes:

- Three (3) blog posts

- Seven (7) illustrations

- One (1) entire novel draft

And, if you have time, get a start on next year's taxes. (Me, overly ambitious? Noooo!)

Step 4: Check Twitter before you start.

I mean, you gotta let your loyal followers know what's going on.

Step 4.5: Update your Snapchat story.

It'll only exist for 24 hours, so make sure you spend a solid five minutes on that.

Step 4.75: Realize that you just spent, like, half of your time scrolling through social media and not actually doing any work.

My, time flies when you're procrastinating.

Step 5: FOCUS.

Put them earbuds in and tune the irritated travellers out!

Step 5.5: Okay, right after this song.

How does a bastard, orphan, son of a....

Step 5.75: Okay, right after this song.

Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr, sir?

Step 5.8: Okay but actually let's pick a different album because CLEARLY this isn't working in your favour.

You really shouldn't have picked such a catchy soundtrack, anyway.

Step 5.9: Realize that you won't actually hear the announcement on the PA when your flight starts boarding if you keep your headphones in.

You can tune out the busy crowds on your own, right?

Step 6: ACTUALLY GET SOME WORK DONE WHAAAAAAAT

Look at you, being productive! Look at you, making good use of your time! Look at you--

Step 7: Wait, is that your flight being called?

Huh. That went by faster than expected.

Step 8: Board your flight, settle in, and NAP.

You clearly earned it!

How do you guys amuse yourself during long waits, in airports or otherwise? Lemme know in the comments!

Until later,

- Justyne

You Do You, Boo (A Discussion About Internal Motivation)

Last year, I did a small series of blog posts in which I discussed the variety of ways to motivate yourself externally. It was a nice little series. I enjoyed writing it. But what happens when all those frills stop working?

Remember....who....you are....

(Inserting gifs in here because it's 2016 and that's the Thing To Do.)

The most common advice I hear from anyone, in terms of work and career, is to do what you love. A no-brainer, right? It would seem so; hell, I preach that advice every day. But what happens when you don't even know what that means anymore? What happens when you sit down one day, doing The Thing You Love, only to start thinking that you maybe don't love it as much as you thought?

You have a freak out, for starters. You start to panic a bit. You start to question whether you're on the right path, whether this thing truly is The Thing You Love. Then you bury your troubles under hours and hours of Sims and try not to think about it.

(Not like I would know or anything....)

What makes something The Thing You Love? What magical quality does it posess that allows it to turn from just a hobby into...more? It's not an easy thing to pinpoint, really, because there's not just one way for it to get to that point. We all live different lives, we all choose to put our passion in different things for different reasons. There's no road map to figure out what The Thing You Love should really be. 

All you can really do...is do you. You do you, boo!

I don't know when I started saying this. Probably as a joke, to be honest--something to say indifferently, as a go-ahead to a suggestion, when the process doesn't affect the outcome, or the outcome doesn't affect me at all. "Go for it--you do you, Boo."

Then, last month, a friend of mine uploaded a post on her own blog, and made reference to this saying that I've suddenly adopted as my own. All at once, I realized that this saying wasn't really a joke at all--it had become advice. Real advice. Good advice, that I had never really thought to follow.

I started writing when I was around nine. It's been a part of my life for a very long time, and for all that time I never struggled with my future life plans. I wanted to do this, I was working hard for it, and I knew I was good. (Most of the time, anyway.) I always knew what I wanted to do...until suddenly, I didn't. (Y'all already know that story; it eventually lead to the creation of this blog.)

I joke about procrastination a lot. I've always done it, but over time it's gotten worse. Shouldn't this be easy? Shouldn't I have enough passion to push myself out of whatever rut I find myself in and just do it?

It wasn't that I didn't want to. I did. It's that I was lacking the energy, the time, the motivation. Every time I felt that rush, that flurry of words that poured out of me, I grabbed it desperately. I didn't want to let it go, to drift back into the void of other people's stories, all of which were starting to do nothing but remind me that mine wasn't out there.

But every time, I let go. I had to, because of responsibilities and commitments and a zillion other things that I wanted nothing to do with. I started to resent my job because of it, because I felt that every moment not spent towards The Thing I Loved was just a waste of time. I threw every creative project that wouldn't bring me a step closer to publication under the rug. 

Eventually, I threw The Thing I Loved under the rug, too. I didn't think I could do it anymore--every time I sat down to start, I got too distracted with other things. I got too frustrated with the fact that I wasn't anywhere near where I wanted to be at this point in my life--and I felt like a failure.

I stopped blogging because of it--for months.

Here's something that not everybody tells you: you're not always going to love The Thing You Love. You're not always going to love your dream job. No matter what it is, there are going to be days when you want absolutely nothing to do with it. There are going to be days when you want to do literally anything else, anything to avoid The Thing You Love. But that doesn't mean you just give it up--it doesn't mean that you've lost it, it doesn't mean that you need to throw in the towel and start looking for another way to occupy your time. That's why I wrote those initial posts, why I spent so long focusing on external motivators--because in dire times, they can save your ass. You need every ounce of inspiration you can muster.

But if you don't have the internal motivation to back it up, you're not going to get very far.

I don't know much, but this is what I do know: I love creating things. I love telling stories. I love pouring my heart and soul into something, and turning it into an experience for someone else. I love that. I always will, even sometimes I wish I could skip the hard part and skip straight to holding the finished product in my hands. The passion remains, through all the procrastination.

All you have to do is start. That's how you figure it out. You push past the hard bit, you grab hold of every ounce of motivation you can, and you use it to fuel the launch.

Because once you reach the stars, there's nothing holding you back.

You do you, guys.

- Justyne

FREEDOM

Let me tell you, folks, I have taken summer for granted for FAR TOO LONG.

My blog posts have been, clearly, off track as of late. This happens a lot. I'm not proud. But every now and then, I have a valid excuse. Like four exams, one student film, two different website codes, one paper, and a weekend in which I proudly did nothing but scroll through Tumblr and play Wind Waker. (Followed by a couple weeks in which I didn't update because, really, what else is new?)

Now that exams have passed and the academic year has ended, I feel a foreign sense of freedom that I have not felt in years. It's strange, because I now find myself in the same life situation I held for two years--no classes, no homework, just a part time job and all my time to devote to writing. (Or playing Sims. Mostly playing Sims.) I have the exact same amount of freedom now as I had before I restarted my academic career back in September.

Now, though, it feels more...liberating. After months of cramming homework into every spare moment, of studying at work and writing notes on the bus, I now have NOTHING TO DO. I have all the time in the world to work on as many personal projects as I want--or to just sit on my butt and watch Netflix until my brains ooze out of my ears. (Which I've done. A lot.)

I find myself making plans, massive to-do litsts with more items than I probably have time for. And I did the same thing even before I went back to school--although my free time never actually increased, it still felt like it did during the summer. I don't think this feeling will go away after I graduate, either. This is something that has long been engraved into my brain, and will stick around for probably an enternity. There's just something about summer that has this almost magical feel to it.

I guess that's why it's my favourite season.

Until later,

- Justyne

How to Stop Procrastinating

I know you've done it. You know you've done it. When faced with a lot of work to complete in a short amount of time, after having left said work untouched for several weeks, you type that very sentence into Google. "How do I stop procrastinating?"

STOP IT.

I'm guilty of this. I constantly look up productivity tips, looking for the hidden secret that will bring my lifelong procrastination to a finite end. But guess what? It never works. For several reasons:

1. I never follow the advice. At all. Ever. I've probably visited every result on the first page of Google search results, and I blatanly ignored all of it.

2. I only ever google "how to stop procrastinating" when I have so much work to do that my soul is dying the more I put it off. (And yet.)

3. I'm self-aware. I know I'm doing it. Hell, sometimes I choose to do it. I'm basically beyond help, now. 

Here's the thing: I know myself very well. I know that I get distracted easily while listening to most music. I know reading my textbook from my bed will result in nothing but fatigue and the desire to have a nap. I know that there is no such thing as "only playing Sims for one hour", unless I have some outside motivator forcing my ass out of the chair, and that starting a game early in the morning will chase away the entire day. (Similarily, I know that watching one YouTube video will result in another, and another, and another, and...) I know that, despite my best intentions, I probably won't wake up early on a Saturday morning to get work done, nor can I really count on getting much done on the bus.

I know all these things about myself, AND YET. And yet, I still do all of it. Every bit of it. I extraordinarily overestimate my willpower, without fail, every time. 

In reality, none of these lifehacks will stop you from procrastinating. If you want to put it off, you'll find some BS excuse to put it off. Hell, the very fact that you're spending your time googling these lifehacks instead of actually doing your work is the worst form of procrastination there is. You're self-aware! You know what you're doing!! Why are you still doing it?!?? (I ask myself this very question every day.)

You can tell, based on my uploads, when I feel like blogging. When I have an idea, I don't put it off--I run with it, and my blog goes up right on time. (4PM CST, just like this! Can I get an eyyyyy) I want to upload on time, I want to have regular updates, so I don't put it off. (Much?) But when I'm blanking, I don't want to do it. I don't want to stare at a blank screen and stress about the fact that my brain is crapping out and turning to goo. So if Friday rolls around and I still haven't thought of anything, I just leave it. "Welp, there's always Monday!"

I procrastinate because either A) I don't want to do it (lol homework) or B) I do want to do it, but I'm scared to get it wrong, or I don't know what I'm doing, or the task itself just seems too daunting. I have so many projects that I've quit because I felt like I couldn't pull it off--that it wouldn't be the way I envisioned it.

And that sucks. And it's also really stupid, because how else am I supposed to get better at anything? More importantly, how am I ever supposed to get anything done?

Literally the only way to stop procrastinating is to JUST DO IT. So stop reading this, and just start.

Are you procrastinating right now? No, don't tell me in the comments. Stop it.

Until later,

- Justyne

Is the Book Really Better Than the Movie?

Have you ever seen Howl's Moving Castle? I rewatched it the other day. God, it's a good movie. You should go watch it.

Anyway. Rewatching the movie reminded me that it's actually based off of fantasy novel by Diana Wynne Jones, which I haven't read, because I've found that fantasy books aren't normally my thing. (Which is a whole other can of worms for a whole other blog post.) Despite this, though, nothing will prevent me from looking up reviews for this book as a form of procrastination--so I did.

Just about every review on Goodreads, though, makes reference to the movie in one way or another. Which isn't necessarily bad--it just reminds me of all of the people who preach and cry, "READ THE BOOOOOOOOK!!1!" every time a new book-to-movie adaptation comes out.

The popular belief is that the book is always, always, always better than the movie. (Always.) Which, in my opinion, isn't true. The book is always different. The book always has more detail. But I, for one, do not believe that the book is always better than the movie. Sometimes, but not always.

I feel like a lot of people confuse faithfulness to the original plot with actual good quality. I used to be the same way--I'd read a book, before spitefully watching the movie adaptation and critizing every change they made. It got to the point where I'd put off reading a book I was excited for, just so I could see the movie first and not be disappointed by the lack of depth.

If I've learned anything in recent years, though, it's that books and movies are completely different mediums and need to be treated as such. Think about it--would you compare an abstract painting to an artistic photograph? Would you compare a poem about a bird to a sculpture of one? I mean, you can, and there are probably benefits to doing so, but you still recognize that each artwork captures the subject differently. It's just like you wouldn't compare a Stephen King thriller to a children's picture book--because really, how can you compare the two at all?

I'm a very big fan of the Divergent trilogy. I was actually first attracted to the books by the first trailer for the movie back in 2014, so heck yes I was super excited for the movie! And, all in all, they were fairly faithful to the book...but not in the way I would have liked. They made mostly minor changes (and one bigger one towards the end), none of which really made sense to the story. They changed one of the overall themes of the book, and I really didn't think it worked in the movie's favour.

But Insurgent? I liked it. It's damn near ridiculous plot wise, and took many more liberties in changing its course of events from the book, which I think is the reason most people dislike it. (Most original fans of the book, anyway.) But I still liked it, way more than the first movie.

Here's the thing: the theme in Insurgent (the novel) is very deep, dark, and complex--and I was so, so scared that they were going to try and adapt it into the film and ruin it--because, to be honest, there's too much there to really portray it accurately and faithfully in a couple hours.

When it came time to actually watch the movie, I was pleasantly surprised--they switched the theme around completely, adapting something totally new. And even though it wasn't as deep or emotional, it was still well done (in my opinion, anyway), and I appreciated the fact that they were willing to change something so central in the books, in order to make the movie a little better.

I've also found a pattern in my own personal movie-going and book-reading experiences--whichever version of the story I'm introduced to first is the one I tend to favour.

Example A: The Princess Diaries, originally a series by Meg Cabot. I grew up with the movies, as many people my age did, and it wasn't until I was in middle school that I realized they were actually based off of a really popular book series. I hold the movies very near and dear to my heart, so I was eager to pick up the first book and give it a try.

I didn't like it. Maybe I'm biased because I have a nostalgic attachment to the movie version, but I just didn't like that version of the story. I stopped after the first book, and just never bothered to read any of the others.

Example B: Avalon High. Coincidentally, another book by Meg Cabot, and one that I actually really love. In 2010, it was adapted into a Disney Channel movie that I was super excited to see--and, inevitably, was disappointed by. It was basically the same old story; I didn't like the changes they had made, I thought that the quality of the story in the book was better, etc etc.

BUT. Here's the thing: it wasn't a bad movie. (Of course, Princess Diaries wasn't a bad book, either.) The sets were incredible, and I have to admit--their twist was pretty good. (Not, like, world shattering or anything. But I certainly wasn't expecting it, and I'm sure few people who read the book were. Which makes me think that that might have been the point.) If it weren't for the pre-existing novel that I had already read and loved, I genuinely think I would have enjoyed the movie more.

BUT--and here's one super big exception to everything I've mentioned thus far--I didn't feel that way about W.i.t.c.h. W.i.t.c.h. was, originally, an Italian comic book, that was translated into several languages and adopted into a novel series (with comic excerpts at the start and end) in North America. It was super duper big, went on for, like, ten years, and was adapted into a television show that lasted two seasons.

I started reading the books first. Unfortunately, as much as I absolutely adore this series, I never finished it completely, basically because North America sucks. (They only adapted the first two story arcs, when the Italian version went on for, like, twenty, and also started full comic translations without ever finishing them. My soul never healed, friends. I am bitter to this very day.) I read the books and loved them and looked forward to their releases for a long, long, long time.

And then I watched the TV show.

The TV show adaptation took a lot of liberties with the story--it changed a lot of plot points, a lot of character designs, and a lot of details of the world it was set in. But I honestly didn't mind--I enjoyed these changes, as much as I enjoyed the original novels / comics...sometimes even more so. (Caleb and Cornelia, guys. CALEB. AND. CORNELIA.) Now I don't even want to read the original comics because I know my dreams will be dashed.

SO. What do you guys think? Do you think the book is always better than the movie, or do you judge it on a case-by-case basis like me?

Until later,

- Justyne

Find Your Happy Place

I don't normally listen to music when I work. I get distracted too easily, so even if I manage to stay away from social media (which is, um, rare), the music will ensure that both my mind and the document on my screen remain blank. All listening to music does is make me wish I lived in the universe of High School Musical, where normal, everyday people perform elaborate musical numbers just to tell people that they don't sing or dance. (Also a universe where everyone is talented at both singing and dancing. Oh, what a world that would be!)

HOWEVER. If I am listening to music, you can bet your butt I'm listening to music from Disney World.

(I talk about Disney a lot, I know. I'm sorry. I can't really help it.)

Here's the thing, though: I really love Disney World. Like, immensely. You already know that, probably, if you've talked to me for more than a second and a half. It is, if you will....my happy place. (Roll credits.)

Everyone has a happy place, don't they? That place that we like to retreat to when we're angry or upset or sad or stressed or whatever. Mine is no differnet--it just happens to have a giant castle...and Mickey Mouse.

Ignoring the details of my own personal happy place, though, have you ever really thought about what yours is? Have you ever used it? Do you have it developped into more detail than just, "Oh, yeah, there's a meadow. And, um, trees, I guess? A river, sure. A nice stream of water. And clouds. Are we done?"

No, my friend, we're not. You are gonna sit your butt down and figure this shit out.

To work hard, well, and productively, you need a good atmosphere. You need something with minimal distractions, a pretty view, a good beverage...pretty much something that makes you comfortable. You need to want to be there, dammit, otherwise you'll spend the next hour and a half wishing you were somewhere else. You need the right chair, the right temperature control, the right level of background noise envelopping you in a warm coccoon of happiness.

To be productive, you need your happy place. Or, at least, the closest thing you can get.

Unfortunately, I can't live in Disney World. I want to (and if I had won that 1.6 billion dollar jackpot a while back, maybe I could have), but unfortunately, as much as I'd like to sit outside of the Starbucks on Main Street, USA and spend the remainder of my days writing to my little heart's content....it probably isn't going to happen.

But being in Disney World makes me so happy. I love the sounds, the excitement, the...well, everything. I love everything. When I am in a Disney park, everything is finally right with the world! So what can I do to harness that, to bring the magic of Disney into my everyday life?

THIS.

Some beautiful soul created four beautiful playlists, comprised of various songs used throughout the respective theme parks. Sometimes--normally when I'm out and about, wanting to be anti-social while I work--I plug in my headphones and crank up one of those playlists, so I can work and pretend I'm in Disney World to my little heart's content. It doesn't matter if I'm writing, blogging, studying...whatever. It helps me focus and be productive when I really don't want to. (Okay, sometimes it also makes me want to run away from home, Disney or Bust. But trust me, most of the time it works.)

The great part about this is that it's portable--I can take my beautiful, wonderful happy place with me wherever I go. (Or at least, wherever there's wifi. Gotta love those data charges.) Wherever I happen to be, I can live my blissfully ignorant life of pretending I'm in Disney World 24/7.

What about you? What's your happy place?

Until later,

- Justyne

The Subjectivity of Adulthood

When I was between the ages of ten and twelve, I dreamed of being a grown up; a teenager, with great friends and great classes and a boyfriend. I dreamed of being in clubs, on student council, of being valedictorian, of going on class trips and to parties and becoming a foreign exchange student.

When I was sixteen, I dreamed of being a grown up; a college student, with college classes and college friends and a college boyfriend. I dreamed of going to college parties, living in the dorms with a new roommate, studying and living on coffee. 

Now, I am twenty-one. (Going on twenty-two this year...Lord help me.) And still, I don't feel like a grown up. I am in university, I've been to a university party (for real! It was only the one, but still), I've lived in a dorm and had a roommate and I definitely, DEFINITELY live off of coffee. I've been on a class trip, I've ran for student council, I've had a few great (among many mediocre) classes, and I have great friends. But I still don't feel like a grown up.

I'm in a human geography class this semester (to knock out one of my pesky social science requirements), and within the first few classes, my professor introduced us to a little website called 

The Geography of Youth.

Are all of you familiar with the Humans of New York blog? (Personally, it's one of my favourites.) The Geography of Youth has a similar concept, over a much broader location. They started by travelling around, taking pictures of millenials and asking them the same few questions, both of which would later be uploaded to the website. They've since expanded it, and now internet users all over the globe are able to upload their own self portrait and answer the questions themselves. One of the questions asked is, "Do you consider yourself to be an adult?" Depending on their answer, the interviewee is then asked when they think they became an adult, or when they think they'll become one.

This question was not the focus of the class, and we never discussed the true nature of adulthood. But still, that was the question that I was really drawn to--because how do you know if you're an adult? Am I an adult becasue I live on my own? Am I an adult because I buy groceries and pay bills and graduated high school almost four years ago? (//sobs)

Or is there something that I'm lacking? Am I still just a kid, because I watch Disney movies and read YA and barely know how to cook? Will I become an adult when I graduate university? When (or if) I get a Real Life Adult Job, one where I work Monday to Friday from 9 to 5, every day?

Or will I never actually be a grown up, just forever stuck in this limbo of in-between?

I think adulthood is different for everybody. I go through stages, almost, of whether or not I actually feel like an adult. Most of the time, it's the latter--I'll be sitting at home in a onesie, playing Sims and pigging out on chips and I'll feel as far from grown up as possible. In general, when I'm living my everyday life, I don't feel very grown up.

But then I'll have a very small moment, a second of realization that this very Grown Up thing to do has become a normal part of my life. Like when I catch myself pushing a shopping cart through a grocery store, flyer in hand, or when I cook an actual meal, with meat and veggies and things that take more than a minute and a half in the microwave to prepare. It's like a sudden hit of, "Wow. Holy crap. I am so grown up right now."

Objectively speaking, I'm a legal adult. Subjectively, it's a lot more complicated than that.

What about you? Do you consider yourself to be an adult? Why or why not?

Until later,

- Justyne