I am an idiot.
I like to think I am an adorable, lovable idiot, but the fact remains that sometimes I do really stupid things. Like trip while running up the stairs holding a pizza and jam my foot directly into the step before me. Which is why I am now sitting in my bed, foot up on two pillows, homemade splint taped around my big toe and tears stained on my cheeks. And probably my toe is broken.
WELCOME HOME FROM TOUR, KRISTINA.
Well, since I can't move or go anywhere, this seemed like the perfect opportunity to write a blog post. I feel a little badly that I started that Fall Tour series with the intention of writing more posts on the road, chronicling the entire trip.. but that didn't seem to happen. I don't know what it was about Fall tour that was so different about Summer - I seemed to have a plethora of time for blogging during the summer. But these past few weeks have been so ridiculously crazy and fun and busy and jam-packed I just never seemed to have a spare moment to sit and write about what I was experiencing.
^ I wrote that above part a few days ago. Now I've spent the weekend going to my friend Tara's birthday party, hanging out at ZomBcon, and having a super fun Halloween party at our house Sunday night. I want to acknowledge that my time on tour with Luke, Alex, Jason, Mike and Ariana was one of the best times of my life, even if I didn't manage to write most of it down. We played so many amazing shows, met incredible people, saw places we'd never been before, and just generally became closer and had a really successful experience on the road.
In other news, after our super fun Halloween party last night, I am sitting in my living room in my footy pajamas working on my NaNoWriMo novel. I am not going to write a long post, because I am better suited using that effort to get words written on my novel, but I wanted to share a little piece of what I've accomplished this morning with you guys, since so many people have been asking what I am writing about this year.
This is the prologue to my story. It's in the POV of a ball-point pen. The rest of the story is in the POV of whoever currently owns the pen. That's pretty much the whole basis of the novel.
"I am a black ball-point pen. I’m really nothing special. I came in a pack of ten, on sale for $4.99. One of those back-to-school sales. I may not be a neon green gel pen, or write in glitter, or glow in the dark, but I’ll be the most reliable pen you’ve ever owned.
You may think my existence is a boring one, but I can assure you that it’s anything but. Okay, I mean yeah. I can’t really do much on my own, aside from just sort of sitting there. Maybe roll a little with a big enough gust of wind, or if someone leaves a fan on. But all it takes is one person: a curious child, a rebellious teenager, a single working mother; and I’m seeing the world. When you have no say in where you go, what you write, or who you belong to, you really get around. Sure I spend my fair share of time in the bottoms of messy purses, being chewed on during a particularly dull lecture, or tapped repeatedly against a mahogany desk, but it’s all worth it. At least I wasn’t left alone in a dusty cupboard until my ink dried up. In all my time here, I’ve written love letters, grocery lists, diary entries; I know facts and secrets about people you wouldn’t believe.
So here begins the story of my journey. I’m not going to say I loved any of my owners more than the next one, because what I’ve learned in my lifetime is that everyone plays a part. Everyone, even the bit characters, make up the cohesive story of your existence. You may not think you have anything in common with the man who collects your trash or the professor who bores you out of your mind on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but everyone is connected. Everyone. And sometimes it takes something as simple as a ball-point pen to realize that."
Anyway, Happy NaNoWriMo, everyone. And Happy November, if you're not into writing. I've got a few thousand more words to write today.
flammable vs inflammable
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