Basically, today is a bad day for me. I feel stressed, scared, and annoyed at myself, at others, and how quickly this day went from blue skies and sunshine to rain on the windows. 

I feel awful because of last night and not getting near enough sleep. I feel awful because my last exam is tomorrow, and I’m freaking out about it and not practicing enough. 

And nothing is cheering me up. Guys, this sucks.

God, I feel awful. The two dorm rooms adjacent to mine had people visiting and chatting and skyping with them until FOUR IN THE FUCKING MORNING. I DIDN’T GET TO SLEEP UNTIL 5 IN THE MORNING, GUYS. I missed breakfast because I knew I had to sleep in to get near the proper amount of sleep, and I was planning on getting up before nine to time myself how long it would take to get to the exam building before the exam time (which is at 9:30 AM tomorrow morning). 

I suppose I can be thankful that they decided to be enormous insensitive bastards not on the night before my last exam, but on the night before the night before my last exam…but I just don’t give a shit. It’s freaking ridiculous! 

The supervisors of the hall that I’m in declared this time Silence Week, in order to help people who are trying to study and rest up in peace, and they’ve said that if anyone disturbs this, they will be fined. I don’t want to be the party pooper, but I am completely fed up with this. 

So, people who live next to me - beware. I’m at my nastiest when I’m sleep deprived, and you lot have been pushing all of the wrong buttons when it comes to me for far too long. If you pull the same shit tonight that you did last night, when I have to wake up at 7 in the morning and be nice and rested and possessing all my mental faculties for this exam…

The wrath of God won’t match what I rain down on your asses. 

Sometimes I find myself thinking about things I want to write, couples i want to explore…

…and then I think about the implications of them, of how I might end up offending someone. 

And you know, sometimes I just don’t know what to do. Should I say “YOLO, you can’t please everyone/you need to write for yourself”? Or do I need to take responsibility for what I’m giving to the public, what my characters/events might mean to someone, what they might be interoperated as? Or is there a way to do both? 

I don’t want to be a person who doesn’t think things through, whose careless actions lead to me being judged as something I am not. I believe in “the death of the author” - that when writing something, the author’s own feelings and beliefs and history have no connection to the story. At the same time, I want to promote ideas and themes that are very important to me…I know it makes no sense. 

So, what do you think is the best approach to take? Should one write what they feel is the truest version of their story, and not give a toss for the implications? Or should one let the concern of the public influence what they write?

I grew up with the Harry Potter books. When I started to read them, and finally get into that world, there was only four of them out.

One of my favorite things to do during my preteen years - along with reading, of course - was to go on the net and take personality tests. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, next to fanfiction. So I was especially excited when I discovered that they had personality tests for what Harry Potter character you were most like. I took all of them, and with nearly each one, the result was the same.

Neville Longbottom.

I liked Neville. He wasn’t the character that I spent most of my time thinking about - that went to Remus (for whom I nursed an intense crush on for the longest time) and Snape (who I just thought was fascinating, even when he was being a terrible bully). Neville was nice though - I liked that even though he was a Gryffindor, it was difficult for him to be bold, to speak out loud. He struggled, and was bullied by teachers and students alike. I had never really saw it before, but I could see that we shared that. I had a difficult time as a student in elementary school, both academically and socially. I was shy, and full of frustration - quick to run away and hide if I messed up, if I thought I perceived people laughing at me. I stuttered, and was heavy even back then. What’s more, I didn’t have anything to make up for it. I couldn’t find my niche, and I desperately tried to find one, and tried to change myself to do so.

But I struggled, and my struggle was out in the open. I had no effortless air, no charm or quick joke. I had the mark of easy prey, and bullies quickly zeroed in. I didn’t know how to react - if they attacked and I kept silent and went to the little library alcove and tried to hide myself in the picture books there, they would keep at it ‘till I retreated to the bathrooms. If I lashed back at them, I was taken aside by the teachers, and then the bullies would come back stronger then ever. I was frightened and angry and frustrated - there was no way to win, no end in sight. To this day, I still remember the faces, the names of the kids who did that to me. I still remember that overwhelming urge to get back at them, to make them fear me as I feared them, and the even more desperate urge of still wanting to find some small measure of acceptance from them, from anyone. Students didn’t know what to make of me, and either attacked me or left me alone. Teachers didn’t know how to help me, though they did try. I felt like a lost cause.

Those were my elementary days, and even though they haunted me, they were behind me now. So, I was just another middle schooler spending time on the net, taking those quizzes.

When I first got the results, I didn’t see the connection at first. I respected Neville, but I never really gave him much thought. Curious, I asked my Mom what character she thought I was most like, knowing that she would be honest with me. 

“I think you’re a lot like Neville. You’re both shy and you get very flustered when something goes wrong, and you both doubt yourself a lot of times…but there’s more to you then meets the eye. There’s a lot of potential in you.”

That stayed with me, and when Book 5 came out, I began to look at Neville with hope - it was the first time that I was compared to a character that I honestly wanted to be like. If my mother liked and admired Neville, and thought that he had great potential, and then likened me to him…that was something that I could be proud of. My sleepovers with my best friend Kaya soon became a mix between acting out our favorite musical scenes, watching movies, and then going onto the internet to read Harry Potter fan fiction and take those personality quizzes. Kayla got Luna, and I got Neville every single time.  She quickly agreed with this assessment - “You are such a Neville Longbottom”, she would declare with utter confidence, and then we would go onto writing a parody of Phantom of the Opera as acted out by the Marauders. 

Now, with all the books done, all the movies completed, we know what a badass Neville is. We take this for a fact, joke that Chuck Norris’s patrons is Neville Longbottom, et cetera…

But we didn’t before. We had to grow up with him, to see where he came from, what he had to deal with. What made him so strong. What made him finally come into that glorious badassery. He was a person who everyone doubted, but most of all doubted himself. Now we all call him hero, and rightfully so.

Greatness is something you grow into. Confidence, comfort in your skin…it’s something that you struggle with. But now I know that the fact that there is a struggle doesn’t automatically mean that you will always lose. It takes time, and you go through hard knocks…

But it does happen. You do become a stronger, wiser, and ultimately a far more badass of a person then you could have ever dreamed you would be.

When I was younger, I would have never imagined leaving my family, my technology, the comfort of society to go live in the woods for two whole months. I would have never dreamed that I would finally meet one of my best friends at a collage that I had cheered against growing up. I couldn’t even begin to imagine acting in front of a live audience, or winning an acclaimed award for my writing, nor climbing and summiting not one, but five mountains, one of which was Mt. Washington. Nor could my eleven year old self ever imagine that I would voluntarily leave my family, my home to go study abroad in a country overseas.

I never thought I was capable of this stuff, probably because I never dreamed of it (aside from the acting - I’m still hoping for Broadway, baby). There was more to me then I knew. My potential was always there.

Neville Longbottom and I grew up together ( insert a joke of “I knew him before he was famous!”) and while I loved Harry, it was Neville who I related the most to. People, both enemies and loved ones alike, underestimated us.

And now…we both have become badasses, though very different ones.

We just needed time to grow into it. 

And every time I see a post about how Neville turned Horizontal Alley into Diagon Alley with a punch, or uses Nagini’s blood for soy sauce, I smile to myself. 

My hair is a ratty, tatty, ego’s-gone-splatty mess.

I fiddle and fuss with it, and lack the will to get dressed.

The color is off, the curls have gone coarse,

I have the hair but not the grace of a horse. 

This rat’s nest on my head is dealing my pride a low blow

So it’s off to the land of shower, shampoo, and condition I’ll go.

So I can step out today, and finally feel at my best,

and know that my hair isn’t a ratty, tatty, ego’s-gone-splatty mess.

thegreatgrantaire:

ladyriaofcork:

slytherinhouse-princess:

latewla:

feels-are-ruining-me:

holy-howell:

esotericallyarcane:

corsetscars:

Please?

Please do this.

PLEASE? <3

I just got back guys, do it for my birthday!

please god

please oh please I love this so much

Oh my god, can we do this? All my followers here are A+ writers (and if yo think you aren’t, you’re very mistaken/much too modest, my dear), and I love to hear how others describe me.

(Source: amyandrorywilliams, via thisdorkyblogthing)

pvblik:

okay my 10 year old self was pretty sure that boys would be kissing me by now

(via aworkofiction)