As Always Leigh Delivering The Most Beautiful Books

“i don’t like writing about my day, but i want to keep a journal”:

quotes and copywork. when reading, if you find something you enjoy, just copy it into the notebook. you can copy a whole chapter if you wish, highlighting what caught your attention the most.

definitions. look up on a dictionary and copy it. you could write your own dictionary as well, making up definitions for words.

lists. a classic, write movies to watch, books to read, the playlist of the month or just the groceries you have to buy.

maps. when going somewhere, you could draw the route you took or just a map of the place itself. just look up the place on google maps and copy it. you can draw a little map of all the places you have lived or the schools you have attended as well.

photos

take “notes” as you watch movies / documentaries. write down phrases that caught your attention or doodle.

illustrations and clippings. if you see an image or piece of art that you liked, put it in your journal. if it’s from a book or from a magazine I would recommend scanning it, tho’. it will serve as a record of what kind of art you enjoy through the years.

newspaper clippings from the day.

tickets and pamphlets. from movies, museums, transportation.

postcards

records. you could record for a month what the temperature was when you woke up and when you went to sleep. if you do that for a year, it gives you a better notion of the passing of seasons. you could record rainfall and other seasonal changes as well. you could choose something (an animal, a plant, an item or object) and write down every time you see it.

rubbings of leaves, coins, landmarks.

count. there’s a scene in the movie Coraline (2009) where Coraline’s dad tells her to go count the windows. you could do the same type of counting game if you are bored and write down.

mindmaps/sketchnotes + timelines of books, movies, music albums.

collages

pressed leafs and flowers

your collections. if you collect anything you could write down an inventory or maybe try to draw the items.

recipes. write down recipes and give it a score every time you try it. you could do the same for drinks you try out.

stickers

comic strips. you can find a bunch of it online, glue your favorites in your notebook.

A little in love with this video taken from my dorm window 🌩️

With the shadow and bone trailer being leaked and my rule of wolves book being delivered Leigh Bardugo has completely overrun my morning

How do you fall back in love with life?

clean your room.  clean space, uncluttered space, space that doesn’t have miasma clinging to it can work wonders.  clean the dishes.  sweep.  take out the trash.  peel the clothes off the floor and wash them, and then actually fold/hang them.  take a long shower.  scrub behind your knees.  brush your teeth.  (this can be utterly exhausting, but try to get it done in a day, if you can.  the end result is worth it.)

pull out your notebook.  it doesn’t need to be a new notebook, but preferably one that you don’t usually write in, or that you haven’t touched in a while.  fuck moleskins.  the yellow legal pad will work fine.  sit in your room, or in the park, or in the library, and write a list.  count clouds.  describe all the colors that you see, and note patterns that arise.  sketch the cracks in the walls.  note the shape light makes when it enters a space.  talk about what the air tastes like, smells like.  what sounds are there?  even the white nose, break that down: air planes, fans, cicadas, anything.  remind yourself that you are sitting in the middle of a space brimming with detail.  remind yourself that you are not in nothingness and emptiness.  your world is fathomless.  it has potential.

drink cold water and try to eat something that isn’t processed.  it does not need to be fancy.  buy yourself an apple with the change between your couch cushions.  eat it outside.  if you’re someone who walks, walk somewhere afterwards, just to stretch your legs.  take your fucking meds.  remember that its a good thing that you are inside your body.  your body is a fantastic and endlessly intricate machine, and even though society has smacked a bunch of poisonous ideas on it, that doesn’t change its inherent worth and splendor.  take care of it.

read a novel.  underline your favorite lines, and write phrases that twist your heart inside your chest on the back of your hand with an ink pen.  read a novel like it’s poetry.  read poetry, something decadent but unpretentious.  watch a movie you haven’t seen before.  if there are free art galleries near you, walk through one.  take your time.  let yourself bask.  if there are patterns in what makes your soul ache, write those patterns down – marbles arches or soot crumbling bricks or dandelions or descriptions of dresses or whatever it is, write them down.

your chosen family is important.  remember, they picked you as much as you picked them.  the love has no obligation.  it is given freely and it is given from a place of compassion.  you are not a burden.  if you need to breathe, take a minute by yourself and just exist, but remember to go back to your people.  when they need you, listen and be gracious.  always be gracious.  the universe sometimes remembers things like that.

listen to new music.  link jump on youtube or related artist jump on spotify or ask the chap beside you in the cafe what their favorite band is, and listen to that.  listen to something that you don’t usually listen to.  we tend to tie up a lot of memory with music.  we are falling in love again.  the soundtrack needs to be specific to that.  

allow yourself to indulge in romantics.  press flowers in old books.  play movies with subtitles and mouth the words.  dance in your room.  wear something that makes you feel good, even if you wouldn’t wear it in public.  write your chosen family letters, even if you hand deliver them.  write poetry, even awful poetry.  revel in its awfulness.  eat dark chocolate and when your chosen family want to go out, try to go out with them sometimes, even if its just to the market.  

I don't want a romantic partner I want friends who will go dumpster diving with me, I want neighbors who will knock on my door and ask for butter because they forgot to buy some and it's sunday. I want book shelves in public spaces, food banks and shared tool sheds and community gardens. I want to trade home grown tomatoes for a couple of eggs with my neighbor and I want to bring food over to my friends house when I've cooked too much. I want bicycle only streets and I want people to go on spontaneous walks with. I want people to ask me for help when they need it and I want to be able to ask for help in return. I want community as a safety net. I want people to stop focusing on the vague concept of the one, who will Cure All Isolation and Loneliness. I want every single person to be able to find support and comfort around them, regardless of their relationship status.

Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened every day and arms that were never for anyone else. But just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breath in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes.

“there are, on this planet alone, something like two million naturally occurring sweet things, some with names so gorgeous as to kick the steel from my knees: agave, persimmon, stick ball, the purple okra I bought for two bucks at the market. Think of that. The long night, the skeleton in the mirror, the man behind me on the bus taking notes, yeah, yeah. But look; my niece is running through a field calling my name. My neighbor sings like an angel and at the end of my block is a basketball court. I remember. My color’s green. I’m spring.”

— Ross Gay, excerpt of “Sorrow Is Not My Name”, in Bringing the Shovel Down

I was hit by a wave of grief for the first time in a while today, and the weather was very polite in reflecting my mood as it was grey and rainy on my daily walk. I told the wind and rain about everything I was feeling, and let myself feel the anger I had been afraid of. I think it's important to share your emotions so that they aren't stuck inside. If you're not ready to open up to other people, tell the wind and the rain. They'll always listen.

I forgot how magical trc is. the first book and the recorder and "is that all?" "that's all there is" and the hope and that feeling of things are starting and we're getting there and just magic. this is why I love it so much

— Sunrise, by Louise Glück