I can't stop skipping everywhere I go.
I wear my friendship anklets daily.
I walk around barefoot outside.
I can't seem to find enough hours in the day to do everything I want to do.
Menedy's (my stuffed cat) scarves come off and are put away in a box somewhere.
I stay up extra late reading.
We put the air conditioning units in the windows around the house.
Songs like "Call Me Maybe," "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together," "22," and "Brighter Than the Sun" sound so much more appealing on the radio.
Scout starts to lay on the cool, hardwood floor rather than in her crate or on the couch.
I eat Popsicles and ice cream sandwiches daily.
We see our friends almost every day, if not twice that day.
I have a huge pile of books to be read.
The laundry in my hamper is towering high, the clothes dirty with sweat, dirt, and grass stains.
I blog more often.
I write more often (if that's even possible).
Fruit tastes even sweeter.
I feel all bubbly inside my stomach.
I can't stop smiling.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
You Know It's Summer When . . .
I am a 17-year-old homeschooler, author, daydreamer, voracious reader, introvert, feminist, klutz, fangirl, and overuser of tape. I love the impossible (which might explain my obsessions with fantasy novels and Harry Potter) but I dip into the real world . . . occasionally. I tend to get overly emotional over my OTPs and eat sushi or listen to Taylor Swift to soothe the pain. If all else fails, reruns of “Doctor Who” or “Supernatural” is sure to help. I’m a big fan of mismatched socks, Cheez-Its, and bittersweet endings. I believe anything Rainbow Rowell, Felicia Day, or Lin-Manuel Miranda touches turns to gold. If you want to win the way to my heart, help me adopt a baby elephant. Or a llama. Or both. I write to survive and will often yell at my characters if they aren’t behaving, which is always. It doesn’t usually help. I am a contributor to the "Fauxpocalypse" anthology. You can follow me on Twitter at @Magic_Violinist.