AND A HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME (BEDS 002)

Welcome, friends, to my birthday weekend--a four day event, and the final four days before university returns to take over my life! I'll be straight with you--I have no idea what's going on, or what's going to happen, because it's currently still August and I'm trying to schedule as many of these damn blogs as I possibly can before I get too caught up in procrastinating my homework. (There will be cheesecake, though.)

But I do know one thing--today, as you all are reading this, I am 22. I am older than little ten year old me ever thought I could possibly get, and probably younger than the future fifty year old me could ever remember being. I am the age that Taylor Swift wrote a song about, an age that is once again a digit higher than that of my best friend, until she catches up with me four months from now. I am one year above the legal drinking age in the states, and 4 years above the one in my home province.

Every time my birthday comes around, I think, "I can't believe I'm this old." 22 is not old, yet it is, because I have never experienced an age any older than what I am. I will continue to think this every time a birthday comes around, every time my younger sisters reach milestones that I can hardly believe that I've already passed. I will continue to think that I only graduated a year or two ago, when in fact my old high school is now filled exclusively with people I have never gone to school with. I will continue to think that middle school was only a handful of years ago, when in fact it has been a near decade. And I will continue to deny that, with every passing year, the number of friends whom I have known for a decade climbs higher--because the fact that I am old enough to know someone for a decade is scary as hell.

But no matter how old I get, I will always use my birthday as an excuse to treat myself. I will eat cheesecake for days, and I will sleep in, guiltlessly, as long as I want. I will open presents and spend gift cards and ignore the fact that school is waiting for me at the end of it all. I will watch all my favourite movies and gorge myself on chocolate and play Sims until my computer craps out. I will surround myself with my favourite people and party--or chill--until I get sick of all of them (or until they get sick of me, whatever comes first).

And then, after all is said and done...I'll start counting down the days until Christmas, because there is not a single day that I love more than December 25th.

Until tomorrow,

- Justyne

Micro Fiction Monday: Love, You

When she turned fourteen, a letter arrived for her in the mail. There was no address, either for the sender or recipient; how it arrived successfully, she wasn’t sure. But there was no mistake about the name that was written neatly on the envelope—the contents inside were for her.

She thought that the handwriting seemed familiar.

She didn’t open it, not at first. She dismissed its existence, diverting her attention to the more exciting packages wrapped in brightly coloured paper. It wasn’t until the sun had gone down, and the special day was all but over, when she found it again, abandoned on the floor. She tore the envelope open, not giving much care for its contents...until she unfolded the paper inside.

One letter, not half a page long, written neatly on a piece of lined paper torn out of a notebook. The curves in the writing mimicked hers exactly—she herself had written this letter.

Or would write it, eventually.

Smile, it said. Be brave. Be fearless. Don’t check that mirror in your locker; you look fine. Don’t worry about that boy that sits two desks over from you in math; he isn’t worth your time.

And, finally, you are you. You are as perfect as you ever will be and ever have been. Your best qualities are infinitely better than your worst flaws.

Do not fear yourself; embrace yourself.

Love, You.

She went to bed with a smile that night, the mysterious letter taking precedence in her mind over the most extravagant of birthday presents that year.

~~

Until later,

- Justyne

Birthday Mail (Micro-Fiction Monday)

The street is empty. Why is it still empty? The mail comes like clockwork, every morning, without fail. Why does it have to be today of all days that it’s late?

I’m wearing my best dress today; I’m not entirely sure why. Between school and work I probably won’t have a chance to meet him for a few days. He won’t see me as I rip open the envelope, tear the paper out and greedily absorb the name printed on it. He won’t see me as I place the index card in the frame my parents bought me for my birthday—the birthday where I finally find out who I’ll be spending the rest of my life with.

But still, there’s no harm in looking nice, right?

The mail courier comes into sight, finally—just in time for me to meet her on my way to school. I jump off the sofa, grab my bag with one hand and cover the doorknob with the other as I shove my feet into my shoes. I shout a quick goodbye over my shoulder, one that my mom most likely didn’t hear in my rush to close the door behind me.

I approach the courier as she’s opening our front gate, my smile wide and fingers twitching with anticipation. She knows what I’m here for; she gives me a knowing smile as she hands me my mail. I resist the urge to rip it open then and there, pausing only to thank her before rushing off down the street.

I stop at the corner, breathless, and slip my finger under the paper, ripping it open in one swift movement. In my eagerness, the contents flutter to the ground beneath me. I curse and stoop down quickly, but what I see on the ground makes my fingers freeze in midair.

Two things have fallen out of the envelope. Two stiff cards, with the same elegant, formal writing that were printed on the framed cards in my parents’ bedroom.

Two cards…with two different names.

~~

Until later,

- Justyne

Happy Birthday to Me! (WFMAD Day 2)

Dust sprinkled down onto the young child’s face, sparkling in the moonlight as it faded away into nothing. The child rolled over, as dreams invisible to the pixie’s eyes sparked through his slumbering mind. The tiny pixie, her job done, flew silently out the open window, moving onto the next house as she made her rounds through the darkened neigbourhood.

~~

That's right, it's my birthday today! That means cake. And ice cream.

Now for a small explanation for the excerpt above. My sister gave me a set of "Inspiration Dice" for my birthday, which are just about the coolest things I've ever used ever.

Each colour corresponds to a different aspect of your story, and when you roll them they give you ideas / prompts / challenges for your story. The little blurb at the top was inspired by my first ever roll of the dice.

I'm definitely gonna have a blast with these~

Until later,

- Justyne