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

My Love Affair

Fact: I have an ongoing love affair.....with notebooks. (Also fact: this title is extremely misleading.)

I've always loved notebooks. I always secretly loved the beginning of a new school year, because it was an excuse to buy and use a variety of new, fresh notebooks. I've always loved writing longhand more than typing on a computer, because I love filling up dozens and hundreds of blank pages with my handwriting. I love making notes, crossing stuff out, circling things and pointing arrows to other things. I love buying day planners, and notepads for to-do lists, and writing letters as opposed to sending an e-mail. I love the more traditional side of writing because it just feels so much more personal. A blank sheet of paper feels like a fresh start.

As much as I love notebooks, though, they're just so....inconvenient. Painfully so, actually. For several reasons:

1. HAND CRAMPS

I don't know if it's because I'm rusty (not being in school means that I don't have to take notes and write things down every day), but I feel like almost every time I go to write something down, my hand cramps up. Granted, I do try to write inhumanly fast....but still.

Speaking of...

2. HOLY CRAP WRITE FASTER

I take 5ever to write things out by hand--if I have any hope of reading it later, actually. I have had more than enough experience with university lectures to know that writing quickly means one of two things: either my writing will be chicken scratch and near impossible to read, or it will be filled with abbreviations and shortcuts that I made up on the spot and will have no hope of understanding later.

Typing is just so much faster.

3. OKAY WHERE DID THAT ONE THING GO AGAIN?

I won't lie to you: I am extremely unorganized. If I write something down and have any hope of finding it (or even remembering that it exists) later, I have to stick a post-it and put a reminder on my phone.

Let me repeat that: I have to make sure that all of my notes are also on an electronic device if I have any hope at all of ever seeing it again. Kind of defeats the purpose of writing it down, doesn't it?


But none of these stop me, of course. I'm incredibly stubborn. When I stumble upon a brand new, colourful journal in Wal-Mart, with smooth pages and a pretty pink ribbon bookmark, I don't think about how my hand will cramp or the months that will pass before I fill the pages or whether I'll ever read the stuff I write on them again. I don't think about how I'll have to type 90% of my words on the computer, anyway, or how the vast majority of the To-Do lists I scrawl inside will go uncompleted.

I just buy the damn thing. I buy it and use it, as inconvenient as it may be, because the simplest act of moving my pen across a blank sheet of paper brings me an infinite amount of joy.

Until later,

- Justyne

Review: Hyberbole and a Half

WARNING: The following blog posts contain spoilers for the novel under review, ranging from mild to heart wrenchingly major. If you have yet to read this novel and dislike being spoiled, leave now and return upon completion.

If you HAVE read this novel (or just don't give a crap about spoilers), then continue on.

But don't say I didn't warn you.

~~

HELLO, FRIENDS! Two weeks have come and gone, and I am back with another book review! This week's book is Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh.



THE PLOT-Y BIT

How do I put this? There is no plot--no ongoing plot, anyway. This book is based off of the blog of the same name, so each "chapter" is really just a blog post, either directly from the website or a hypothetical one filled with entirely new content.

Each blog post serves as a story (based off of real-life experiences from the author), and each story is contained in the post--with the except of Depression and Identity, which are each told in two parts.

THE REVIEW-Y BIT

I have read many funny books in my life, but very rarely has a book made me laugh so hard that I cried. This one did--and I'm talking body-shaking, breath-gasping, tears-streaming-down-my-face, keep-it-together-Justyne-you-are-in-PUBLIC laughter.

There are few books that I manage to read in one day. This one I managed in about 16 hours or so. (And that's while working an eight hour shift!) Granted, the various illustrations do make it a much faster read, but I guarantee you that that doesn't make this honour any less special. (The last book I read in less than 24 hours was Shutdown by Heather Anastasiu, which was also a very good read.)

I almost feel like I can't give this book a proper review, due to the type of book it is. It's almost like a collection of short stories--some I loved, others I really liked, while others still were just okay. (Although I won't lie, most of them fall under the "love" category.) I will say, though, that my favourite had to be the God of Cake chapter (followed closely by Dinosaur (The Goose Story)). Those were the ones that had me clutching my stomach in tears at the bus stop and in the break room at work.

(As a side note, I'm pretty sure that the entire city of Winnipeg thinks I'm insane now.)

And in the midst of the uncontrollable-laugh-worthy moments, Brosh managed to tackle a very serious and alarmingly common problem. Her 2-parter entitled Depression did an excellent job of documenting her experiences with the illness, in a way that gave the topic the solemnity it deserved, while still keeping a hint of the humour that remains at center stage for the remainder of the book. It was a very honest recount, and I definitely recommend it if you or anyone you know is going through (or has gone through) depression.

The (purposefully) poorly drawn illustrations give both the book and her blog a wonderful touch. While the style can be hard to get used to, I honestly don't think the stories would be the same without them. They add to the humour in a way that neater, more technically well done drawings wouldn't be able to. It makes the blog unique, and it's what sets it apart from the rest.

I think the only real problem I had with this book is the final story. While Identity was extremely relatable, I didn't find it as funny as her other stories. When I finished it, I felt slightly disappointed, because I had been looking forward to having a final laughing fit on the bus ride home. (I mean, everyone in this city already thinks I'm insane, right? Might as well.)

THE RATING-Y BIT

This book as earned the easiest 5 stars I've given out in a while. Brosh has another book slated for release this year (with ALL NEW CONTENT!), and I cannot wait to get my hands on it!

If you're looking for a good laugh, I seriously recommend this book!


Until later,

- Justyne

In Which I Am Basically a Giant 5-Year-Old

In my mind, I am eternally stuck at the age of seventeen.

I'm not sure why, exactly. I'm not the same person I was then--not really. But for whatever reason, I always have to pause for a moment before I answer the question, "How old are you?" I'm constantly forgetting that I'm no longer a teenager; I am, in fact, an adult. (Although whether I'm a fully-functioning adult is still a topic that's up for debate.)

I forget how old my sisters are, too--they're still eight and thirteen in my mind, instead of eleven and (nearly) sixteen. I also refuse to believe that 2007 was 8 yeras ago, and that the Spongebob Squarepants movie is over ten years old. (And now, there's another one! Where has the time gone?)

I have this thing against time, I think. I would rather sit in my room and watch the Suite Life of Zack and Cody on repeat rather than face the fact that my friends are turning 21 all around me. I'd rather watch Disney movies than do Real Life Adult Things, like go to work and pay bills. (Ew.)

Maybe I'm not really 17, actually. I'm more like 5. One giant 5-year-old, who enjoys watching Phineas and Ferb and still occasionally dabbles in the online world of Neopets, like it's still 2005. (Okay, so maybe I'm closer to 9. But you get the idea.)

But isn't there something almost liberating about embracing your inner child? Aren't I, an adult, allowed to believe in love at first sight, in happy endings prevailing, in the joy and satisfaction of watching cartoon on an early Saturday morning? I want to freely chase after the ice cream truck on a hot summer afternoon, and go to Disney World so many times that the staff know me by name. I want to operate under the belief that everything will work out in the end, no matter how ridiculous or flaw-induced the plan may be.

I think Adult Life is constantly in danger of being dull. There's too much stress in being realistic, in making smart decisions, in being a Mature and Responsible Adult. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

It's just boring.

Does it have to be one or the other? Do I have to choose between being a productive member of society and singing Disney duets with myself when no one is home? Do I have to choose between expecting the worst and having just the tiiiiiniest bit of faith that, somehow, everything will work out?

Yeah, I saw Frozen in theatres 6 times. (At least. I may or may not have lost count.) I invest more of my time watching cartoons than I do watching the sitcoms that grown-ups watch. I got too excited meeting Tiana and Naveen in the Magic Kingdom, and I still like to pretend that I'm a Sailor Scout.

The world is clogged with enough negativity. I think it needs a little touch of childhood joy.


Until later,

- Justyne

Micro Fiction Monday: Code Yellow

“Code yellow! Code yellow!”

I dashed through the kitchen in my mismatched socks, feet slipping and sliding across the kitchen floor. I grabbed the door frame to pull myself to a stop and poked my head into the living room, my comb still stuck halfway through my knotted head.

“Citron or sunlight?” I asked breathlessly.

“Citron,” my roommate confirmed, hands pressed to the glass as she stared down into the park below.

“Ooh, I love citron!” I winced slightly as I pulled the comb through the last of my tangled hair, crossing the room quickly and climbing up onto the window seat beside my friend. I squinted into the crowd of people below, of students and early morning commuters and dog walkers that were up and out far earlier than I would ever be. And there, coming around the corner across the street at a steady pace, was Code Citron.

He was shirtless, now that the weather was finally warming up. I could barely see the faint outline of his earbuds, the cord bouncing in rhythm with his pace. His slightly too long hair bounced up and down, making me want to brush it out of his face, just for an excuse to run my fingers through it. His hair was blond, and I wondered—not for the first time—what colour his eyes were.

All too soon, he turned into the shaded park across the street, disappearing from our view into the clump of other early morning joggers. As soon as he was gone, we both sighed. This was the only perk to living on the 14^th floor.

**

The problem with people-watching—especially when it’s a really cute guy—is that you quickly lose track of time daydreaming and fantasizing about your “accidental” first encounter. This is why I took the stairs when the jerk from 14C wouldn’t hold the elevator, almost tumbling down the steps more than once. This is why I made a mad dash through the middle of the street, ignoring the blaring of car horns, hoping to cut across the park and save some time on my way to work. This is why I was checking my phone, nervously estimating how long it would take me to get to my destination.

This is why I collided with someone on my way into the park.

“Sorry!” a male voice proclaimed, as I rubbed the nose that had collided into his chest. “Didn’t see you there.”

I looked up, about to say something, but my vocabulary was wiped blank as soon as I saw who it was. Blond hair, shirtless, and what I now knew was a pair of sparkling grey eyes that held me locked into place.

No amount of daydreaming could have prepared me for this.

~~

Until later,

- Justyne

Review: The Beginning of Everything

WARNING: The following blog posts contain spoilers for the novel under review, ranging from mild to heart wrenchingly major. If you have yet to read this novel and dislike being spoiled, leave now and return upon completion.

If you HAVE read this novel (or just don't give a crap about spoilers), then continue on.

But don't say I didn't warn you.

~~

YES HELLO, DEAR FRIENDS. Today we are embarking on a new journey, here on Tales of the Unpublished, in which I read and review stories written by people who are actually published. The Tales of the Published, if you will. Ideally, this would be another weekly thing, but alas I don't think I can read that many books on a regular basis. (We'll see, though.) So for now, this'll be updated every other Wednesday. (So the next review will be uploaded on March 4th, then again on March 18th, April 1st, and so on.)

This week's book is The Beginning of Everything by Robyn Schneider.

THE PLOT-Y BIT

Ezra Faulkner was the Golden Boy. Star tennis player, AP student, boyfriend of the most popular girl in school, and dead ringer for Homecoming King. But after a random hit-and-run leaves him with a shattered knee, he's single, crippled (for lack of a better word), and sitting with the local band of misfits in the quad. His formerly perfect life now seems to lie in ruins.

But then he meets Cassidy Thorpe.

Wild and spontaneous, Ezra falls for her and all of the quirks that come with her. The two dive into a relationship filled with treasure hunts and secret movie screenings, all the while marking Ezra's shift to discovering his true identity, and finding what he is truly capable of doing.

THE REVIEW-Y BIT

The Beginning of Everything was one of those books that sets out to be the next Super Inspiring Read--a fact you can tell just by reading the synopsis. I'm always a little uneasy when it comes to books like these, because I often find that they try too hard to be something that they're not. This book was both very hyped (back during its initial release, anyway), and filled with negative reviews on Goodreads, so I was a little nervous about starting it.

But while this book probably wasn't as inspiring as it set out to be, it still succeeded in more ways than one.

First of all: Ezra's growth. Character development is something that can bump a book up from a three star to a five star rating for me, and Ezra's journey hit the nail on the head. His struggles with dealing with the expectations of his teachers, parents, and peers, paired with finding out what kind of person he really was, was a great theme that I think most people would be able to relate to. His shift was gradual, and not without setbacks, which made it realistic, as well.

My favourite part about it was his relationship with Cassidy, and how that melded together with his character growth. In so many books, a protagonist's development kick starts when they meet a new character--normally a romantic interest. A lot of people have issues with this trend, arguing that it makes it seem as though we, as people, need someone else to swoop in and "save" us, as opposed to having the capacity to save ourselves. I don't necessarily agree with that argument, because I believe that a lot of the change we experience in ourselves can be traced back to important people in our lives, romantic or not; we pick up things from the people we care about. In the end, though, I do believe that it is up to us to be willing to make the change.

That being said, I loved that Ezra's growth was independent, but in a way that we didn't realize it until the end. Like Ezra, we were almost tricked into believing that his growth and development was a direct result of his meeting Cassidy. The sequence of events that followed both his journey and their relationship was so perfectly melded together that it was easy to forget that she wasn't the thing that started it all. She did help move him along, by introducing him to things that he wouldn't have otherwise been subjected to--a fact that I would have loved to see acknowledged.

HOWEVER. While Ezra was experiencing his tragedy, Cassidy was going through her own. The death of her brother and the life-altering injury that Ezra endured were undeniably intertwined--a fact that we come to know by the end of the book. Throughout the story, Cassidy was a mystery; there was something deeper, something tragic about her past that she wasn't coming clean with, and once she finally revealed what it was, she just....disappeared. Vanished from his life, with nothing more than a desperate plea to "misremember her".

I loved that concept, of misremembering. It was such an honest and true concept, something that we do on a daily basis. But I didn't like how it applied to Cassidy and her development--or lack thereof. Right when it seemed that we were finally going to see her past, and finally going to see her go through her own development, her own journey was just ended abruptly. The entire book was so focused on Ezra's path to self discovery that they totally neglected the person who should have been growing in parallel alongside them.

The romance was quirky and filled with adventure and it was just so fun to read about. There was a definite element of romanticism, yes, but that's part of what I loved about it! We should be allowed to romanticize things, especially things as harmless as a high school romance in a YA novel. I want to be able to dream and imagine that I can have a relationship filled with as many quirks as this one.

But the way it ended was just so unsatisfying that it kind of ruined it for me. I have no problem with them breaking up; it was the way they broke up that bothered me. Ezra had placed her on a pedestal, and kept her there the whole book. But once she fell from that pedestal, but we didn't get to see the aftermath. We didn't get to see her pick herself up, to see Ezra try and help her through her self discovery the way she helped him. I understand that seeing the true results of this sort of development would be difficult from Ezra's point of view, but maybe the book would have been better off if told from alternating perspectives.

When Ezra and Cassidy met, they were both in the middle of their stories--their "tragedies", if you will. But while Ezra's story came to a neat and final conclusion, Cassidy's was cut off abruptly. We never got to see Cassidy come to terms with her tragedy the way that Ezra did, and the utter lack of conclusion with her character development made the overall pacing seem awkward.

Although the plot suffered, the writing style itself may have saved the book for me. The flashbacks were excellent. They provided excellent segues into different plot points. I was a little iffy about it at first, because the way Ezra was narrating the story didn't seem like the way a high school boy would speak. But by the end, it is revealed that he himself is writing about his experiences, while looking back on it after he's begun college. Even though I had already fallen in love with the writing style, the fact that they had some sort of realistic explanation for it made me love it all the more.

All in all, this book was excellently written--but there was definitely a lot of room for improvement.

THE RATING-Y BIT

Four and a half stars. I would have absolutely LOVED to give it five, if only Cassidy had been given the development she deserved.


Until later,

- Justyne

Sunrise (Micro Fiction Monday)

The boy was born from the land. His body emerged from the depths of the cold earth, his breath borrowed from the wind, the colour of his eyes as green as the leaves that sprouted up around him. His skin was brown like the bark of the trees that raised him. They spoke to him, and he understood as easily as a son understands his father.

The girl was born from the sky. Her skin was as pale as the moonlight, her hair as black as the darkest night. Her body was formed by the stars—just like the ones who spoke to her, gossiping and giggling over the actions of the humans below.

Humans like the son of the Earth, who often stared up at the stars in awe and amazement, dreaming of a world he would never know. He caught the twinkling eyes of the girl in the sky, and their love came together in an explosion of colours—orange and pink and everything in between. Their love was warm, and it was hopeful. Like the rise of a new day.

~~

Until later,

- Justyne