Posts in Arbitrary
In memory of Ursula

Ursula Le Guin passed away on Monday of last week, and since then I've felt oddly like I have a hole in my chest.

The only time I can remember feeling similarly was when Nora Ephron left us, but my devastation over the loss of Nora felt more... obvious. That is to say, I'd unapologetically adored Nora's work for half my life, whereas I didn't read Ursula's books until college. It would follow, in my logical brain, that losing Nora would feel worse than losing Ursula. But that's never the case with grief, is it. Grief is weird and incomparable. If I've learned anything from celebrating the lives of these two women, that would be it.

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So you think you're a grown-up...

May has been somewhat of a whirlwind. I don't remember most of it, and the little I do remember has to do with almost getting heatstroke during USC commencement as I attempted to fan myself with a ceremony program that was as thick as a textbook. 

Aside from that, my graduation was lovely—full of balloons and crazy theatre people and picture-taking and sad-hugging and more crazy theatre people and Pretty Little Liars (the keynote speaker at the School of Dramatic Arts ceremony was actress Troian Bellisario). 

And now we're officially old.

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My first LA Times Festival of Books live blog!

Welp, you guys talked me into it.

I hope you're very pleased with yourselves, because I'm about to drive myself crazy in the heat this weekend live-blogging my way through the LA Times Festival of Books. Authors and book nerds (the best kind) galore! This post will be updated throughout the weekend—starting Saturday, April 12 to Sunday, April 13—as I track down the likes of writers Veronica Roth (Divergent), Laini Taylor (Daughter of Smoke & Bone), Rainbow Rowell (Fangirl, Eleanor & Park), Laurie Halse Anderson (Speak, Wintergirls), Tahereh Mafi (Shatter Me), Ransom Riggs (Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children), Sarah J. Maas (Throne of Glass), Stephanie Perkins (Anna & the French Kiss), and even maybe possibly John Green (The Fault in Our Stars). But no promises there because as you may have heard... his panel is all sold out and dumb stuff like that.

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Love letter to Los Angeles

dear los angeles,

I've loved spending the last four years with you.

I don't know if you know this, but when I left Colorado for you, I wasn't in a good place. My heart was a mess. I was a patchwork of regret and resentment and anger and grief, acquired from the past years of broken relationships and teenage confusion, and I wanted out. I needed out.

You were my Out.

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Top 10 books I read in 2013: mini-reviews

Just in case you were wondering how big of a nerd I am, I've read 38 books in 2013 not counting re-reads, and am currently in the middle of book #39 (Seraphina by Rachel Hartman). Granted, some of those books were for college literature classes, but more than half were books I read on my own. Because I, uh, binge-read. A lot. Below are mini-reviews of ten books I read in 2013 that I loved, spoiler-free because I also love you:

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Why you should take a poetry class

The last time I blogged, I was in the middle of NaNoWriMo. Then I had a birthday. Then I dropped off the face of the planet. SURPRISE.

I'm done with my second to last semester of college, and I now have some free time which is really, really bizarre. It only took 3.5 months of having every minute of my day scheduled to forget what it's like to... not... have every minute of my day scheduled. I almost don't know what to do with myself. I sit down to write and I'm like, "Well, why do I need to do this NOW? I could write later. I don't have anything going on. I'm clear. I'm Scotch. Tape."

So because of that, I haven't actually touched Cure Me since December 1st.

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When Los Angeles goes gray

Today feels like a writing day.

It's September 20, (nine days before the 2-year anniversary of this blog, might I add), and it's gray outside. Los Angeles doesn't feel like the kind of city that should ever be just gray. It's the kind of place that should drip with fuchsia and robin's egg blue, reek of artificial flavoring and the dumpster in the alley behind my building. It feels like a writing day to me, because I grew up writing only when it rained. Something about the way the water hit the windowpanes opened the creative floodgates in my head.

And here I thought I'd outgrown my weather requirements, but look at me now—it gets the slightest bit chilly and I immediately have an existential crisis.

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