In which Lin is printing a small paragraph of original work for criticism

When I was a little girl, i used to steal out of the house as quietly as I could in my long white nightdress, taking care to skip the squeaky fourth step and the sticking front door. There was a large wood encroaching on our back garden, sneaking up on us year by year. It was to this wood that I sought refuge in the middle of the night. I had discovered a beautiful clearing in the middle of the wood, years before, when I had still been young enough to allow mum to pigtail my hair every single day. If I lay in the middle of the clearing and didn't turn my head at all, all I could see was a sky of deep indigo blue, little sparkling lights nestled into it; like fairy lights on a christmas tree, full of miracles and wonder. When i looked up at that sky I felt so small, the world felt so indifferent to my presence. And yet, somehow I was comforted, I didn't feel dwarfed or defeated, like the books said i should. I felt like I was a part of something. There was order and beauty and reason,, and I was a part of that. That stability balanced the rest of the chaos.

In which Lin is excited about the new look... pretty pattern

I know, I know, it's pretty right? right. haha.

so I'm excited by material things? I accept and embrace this.

I'm also excited by papery, musty, lovely and old-timey smelling things. Lovely lovely books. I've read a lot this summer, even for me. mmm, I have to say, my favourite has been Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. Long as anything but a really really good read, I highly recommend it to anyone who has enough patience to get past the slow bits. It's worth it, I promise. Very moral, I must say. Those who lived selfishly, suffer from their mistakes, those who figured out what "life is about" end up happy. Somehow, it seems realistic though, nobody is a "bad" person but those who make bad decisions have to live with those decisions. A good lesson to learn, i think. I must mention Wuthering Heights in my summer reading monologue. Neither Cathy nor Heathcliffe have a single redeeming quality. not one. It's a little incredible. I can, however, appreciate that it is well written, I just have next to no desire to read it again.

I'm growing quite tired of summer, to tell you the truth, I'm counting down the weeks until September 9th (still six weeks away, if you were wondering). maybe being done in April and having nothing to do for four moths takes a bit of the bloom off the dreams of vacation. I'm ready to go back and start doing something and I am so very excited to start my new classes. I have no idea what they'll be like, but they'll be new, and that is exciting.