“my life… in the past”

SECOND ENTRY. I hadn’t been planning on writing a formal introduction post or even a “the story of how I ended up here” post, but I’ve decided that in proxy, I totally need to write up a “my life in the past” post. In other words, I need to ~lock what I am at this particular moment in time and space, so that in the future I can look back and either be amused or horrified at how far (or how not far) I have come. Right now the title of this post doesn’t make that much sense, but in a few weeks or years when I look back on this post, I will say, “Oh, look at this post! This was my life… in the past.”

I’m kind of forcing myself to write this particular entry because I know in the future I’ll be all, “Lindsey, you idiot. How am I supposed to feel nostalgic about those early 2012 days now?!” So to appease my future self, here we go.

I’m 24. In just over a month I’m going to be 25. It’s scary. I totally don’t feel 24 going on 25. I feel 20 going on 21. That’s always how it works though, doesn’t it? I’m sure when I’m 29 going on 30 (Oh God), I’ll feel like I’m 24 going on 25. Anyway, when I was in fourth grade I had to write an autobiography for a class project. One of the chapters was about what we wanted to be when we grew up. Because I am indecisive, I had two careers in mind: a teacher and/or an author. I totally don’t consider myself a grown-up yet, so 9 year old Lindsey would be glad to know that I haven’t yet totally failed in becoming what I envisioned. THERE’S STILL TIME. But time to become what? A teacher? That’s Plan B. Does that mean that Plan A is to be an author? Maybe. (FYI, Plan C is to win the lottery. Plan D is to marry rich.)

So that all leads up to this moment. What am I doing? I’m listening to One Direction (can’t stop, won’t stop). My room is currently a mini-disaster zone. There are socks everywhere. There are also hangers everywhere because I couldn’t decide what to wear yesterday (yet I ended up wearing the same outfit as every other day of my life). The surface of my desk is covered with the most random stuff: A sushi menu, a soap tin, a lottery ticket (I didn’t win), various papers, two water bottles, my Disney cup… this list goes on forever. There’s also a stack of books on my left. Here is a photograph of said books:

I include this photo because most of the books in that stack are either relevant to what I’m currently writing or books I felt like rereading this weekend. I actually don’t know why that book on the top is on my desk. It’s some ancient looking book I bought at a book sale and I think I was showing it to my sister yesterday and just never put it back on the shelf. The book on the bottom of the stack (the French phrasebook) is always on my desk because I’m trying to be a good Canadian citizen and master bilingualism.

Let me preface the rest of the entry by stating that I feel very awkward writing or talking about writing. I want to do it, but it’s just still weird to me because I don’t know if people take me seriously when I do bring it up. I suppose that’s kind of why I started this blog. So I could babble about it on my own turf and such.

Okay, okay, OKAY. Now onto what I’ve obviously been trying to postpone writing about. My story, as in THE story. It doesn’t have an official name yet, so I just refer to it as “THE story”. My current word count is 107 130. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. I think at this point, it doesn’t matter though. What matters is reaching the point that I feel I’m finally ready to share The Story in its entirety. I’m not completely there yet, but I find myself chanting “anxious is my name”, a mantra I made up a couple of weeks ago to describe how freaking anxious I am at the thought of having something to send out to the world. I am freaking scared. All throughout elementary, high school, and university, I just did what I could do. I wrote when I had the time and figured that when the time came, I would worry about all of that publishing stuff later. Just write first. Well, I’ve been writing and now that The Story is almost ready, I really DO have to think about what the next step is.

In hopes of squashing my anxiety, I taped this note on my wall above my desk. What I’m writing in this blog entry is a message to my future self, but this note is a message to me.

I feel like I should end with some wise saying or funny quip, but my brain is kind of burnt out. Instead I’ll just write a list of stuff that this blog will most likely consist of:

• my quest to publication
• freaking out
• freaking out about my quest to publication
• stuff about traveling
• odes to pop music and movies I like
• possibly odes to books I fancy (but that’s what A Storm of Words is for, so maybe not too much of this)
• pictures of Liam, my beagle
• adventures in time traveling
• laments over my hair and how it doesn’t seem to be growing fast enough
• adventures in cooking and baking
• if I’m feeling bold, short stories I wrote during my high school years. You know, for the laughs.
• whatever else~

Yup, I think we’re good now. (Y’all have no idea how long this post took to write, ahaha).


2 Comments on ““my life… in the past””

  1. Jen says:

    So first order of business:

    I love that Anna is in this picture.

    B) I love that note to yourself. Maybe I’ll write one for myself. Except it would probably say something like:
    “Dear Jen,
    Your book isn’t as bad as you think it is. Now put the ice cream away and do some writing.”

    %) This makes me miss non book blogging.

    • Lindsey says:

      After all these weeks, I still can’t not pick up Anna and just read random passages and be all happy and smiley. Love that book beyond words!

      HAHAHA, you should totally write that exact note to yourself xD

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