thoughts on tumblr

To tumble or not to tumble?

That is my question as of late.

I know I posted a rant a while ago, expressing my hatred for Tumblr. I still do hate it; Tumbling is the new, hip hobby. Girls in my grade have Tumblrs so they can seem deep and artistic and meaningful and talk about their self-destructive behaviors.

Not to sound like a hipster, but I hate how mainstream Tumblr is. I hate how everyone has one, and everybody thinks they are the shit because they repost pictures of sparkly nails or girls with rainbow fishtails.

That said, I find there is something alluring about Tumblr. In case you haven't noticed, I haven't been blogging recently. Most of it is pure laziness, but part of it is the fact I don't care very much for Blogspot and it takes a lot of...effort.

Then again, I don't want to be a conformist.

Thoughts?

vacation

...to me, means driving around the backwood roads of New Hampshire at one AM, talking with your cousin about religion and the family skeletons and everything in between.

mischief managed

My childhood, essentially, is over. It died on July 15th.

I'm the tail-end of the Harry Potter generation; a nineties kid and proud of it. My father started reading me the first book when I was in kindergarten. I remember being curled up in bed, listening to the creak of the rocking chair and the steady pitch of my father's voice, pouring out these magical words (he mispronounced Hermione's name until the fourth book).

I always, always begged for him to read just one more chapter.

It became tradition, these nightly visits to Hogwarts. My dad would have me read a page occasionally, and I tripped over the big words. I became a better reader with each book; by the fourth I was reading entirely on my own, relishing the words and proud of my reading abilities. In the third grade, I gobbled up The Order of the Phoenix in less than a week; fast forward five years, I read Deathly Hallows in seventeen hours.

I remember the day I bought DH. I couldn't persuade my parents to drive me at midnight, so I woke them up early as revenge and forced them to drive me over to New England Mobile Book Fair (which, by the way, is not at all mobile). I snatched the closest copy and immediately began reading it; I refused to let go of it for the cashier, so she was forced to awkwardly bend my arms to scan the book.  I didn't eat for the next day and emerged from my room at eleven pm, sobbing.

It was over. Harry Potter was all growed up.

I went to the midnight premiere of HPDH2 at Chestnut Hill with some of my friends. By the end of the movie, I was a sobbing, hyperventilating mess. It hit me that it really was all over. No more anticipation. No new adventures. Nothing. Nothing left to look forward to. My childhood was dead.

But Hogwarts will never be dead.

Harry Potter taught me how to read out loud, how to pronounce difficult words. But it has also taught me some of the most important lessons in life. It has taught me how to love, how to stand up for yourself, how to fight for what you believe in, how to do the right thing.

So don't tell me he's not real. Don't tell me it's just a book. It's not. It never will be. They are more. Harry is more.

I don't wanna say goodbye but it's not forever, not forever...and even if it was you know that i would never, i would never let it get me down. ~A Very Potter Sequel

Someday I will read Harry Potter to my children, and fall in love all over again. Someday they will discover Hogwarts and magic, just like I did.

This is not goodbye.

tough

Firstly, let me admit something I don't usually broadcast: I don't like girls very much. You can ask my guy friends. I start a lot of our conversations with a sigh and the statement, "ihategirls."

But wait! you think. Tess, you silly creature, you ARE a girl!

You caught me.

I don't particularly like the whole girl subculture. Too many of my female classmates are catty, spoiled, selfish, backstabbing bitches (no offense to the girls of NHS. I do love a lot of you, just not all. Plus, if you're reading this, I sincerely doubt you're one of the catty snobs). Girls, in general, place too much emphasis on fashion, looks, love and perfection.

Here's a secret. I.am.not.perfect. 


And I don't pretend to be.

But some of my peers insist that it exists and they go to crazy lengths to reach it, usually putting down others to push themselves higher. There's too many mind games, too much emotional manipulation and very little honesty. The great thing about guys is that they're brutally honest.

Even though I regard female society with contempt, I still get sucked into it on occasion. Wedding shows on TLC are my weakness and they sometimes send me into a wedding binge--I spend a furious three hours looking at the white dresses and reception venues online, tell myself I'm being crazy and switch to picking out baby names, as if that's any less crazy.

One of my good friends is crazy with me. We've decided we're literally insane, but because we're girls, we can't help it. We're hardwired to over-think things, think crazy, hopeful thoughts and dream about the future. It's more of a curse than a blessing, because we're setting ourselves up for disappointment and heartbreak.

Sometimes it's tough being a girl.

*fourth of july*

So, my dears, the United States of America is...235 years old. Compared to most other countries, America is still a baby, albeit a fairly experienced infant.

I am proud to be an American. Yes, we currently have a really bad rep with the rest of the world, but I don't think being American is about obnoxious tourists and McDonald's fries. I like to think it's more than that; it's freedom and independence and a spirit so strong it couldn't be contained by thirteen colonies. The American Revolution is my favorite war (ignore the oxymoron for the time being) because basically, we simply wouldn't take no for an answer, and the original patriots were stupid and brave enough to take that to the extreme.

They risked everything they had so that we can have what we have today. I like to think that is the true American spirit, but maybe I'm being nostalgic. Nostalgic for a time period I never knew, a time I can only read about (I've had a thing for Esther Forbes' Johnny Tremain since I was like eight...fills me up with the revolutionary spirit every single time).

Sometimes I really wish we could invent a time machine already. There is no substitute for experience. We can never truly know what the Revolution was like, or what the founding fathers thought American Spirit was. We can only guess, and continue to piss off the rest of the world as we pass the baton to China as they become the next superpower.

I really love the Fourth. It's one of my favorite holidays; tons of food, fireworks and fun. I adore fireworks; I think they are so romantic. This year, my town decided to get fancy and add a soundtrack to the fireworks display. Legit felt like I was in a movie, the music was so deep and intense. They finished off with Katy Perry's Firework--ohsoclever, huh?

source

Happy Fourth!

summer solstice!

Hey. Yeah, summer solstice was last month. It's fine, get over yourself. This is how I celebrated it...

i'm not hugging back because she's soaking wet.

not amused.

nope, no idea what's going on here...

isn't she gorgeous? that's me, awkwardly ducking out of the shot in the background.

what a beautiful fishtail. and photobomb.

soooo summery:)

Later we finished off with a solid game of Apples to Apples. I put down "Henry VIII" as "Misunderstood" and somehow didn't win...I thought it was a decent answer. Whatever.

I  love my fwends ❤