“Dare To Dream, Princess”

Okay, I should have gone as Calvin. I would have rocked that too.

Sorry for the shitty phone picture. My laptop camera was being a butthead. I lead a glamorous life as a writer. PS: Fuck you teacher from the past!

Growing up in the fashion that I did, Halloween was always a big deal. I’ve never (ever, actually) had a bag costume, or someone make a costume, we’ve always had to create our own. When I moved in with my parents when I was 12, I was then handed siblings to help out with this venture. When I was with my aunt and uncle I was on my own. But one Halloween when I was 13 (so I was living in Illinois at this time) I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to be. Looking in my closet I didn’t have anything that I could cut and fashion into a costume quickly enough either.

My mother asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up, and I told her flat out then and there that I wanted to be a writer. Some things never change right? I thought of what that was going to mean that I looked like when I was older. I thought of what writers looked like in comics and television series. I told my mom I didn’t want to look like them. I told her what I wanted to do was lay around in my pajamas with a tiara on my head. So that night she gave me aluminum foil and told me to make a tiara, and the next day I went to school in my pajamas, unbathed with a side ponytail with an aluminum foil tiara on my head.

Kids made fun of me, they were in their costumes from a bag or some that had their parents made for them. It didn’t help that I was still considered a new kid, and that I talked funny though either. But by the end of the day their costumes were coming off, or falling apart, or they were complaining they were too cold or too hot. I was happy in my pajamas and dirty hair. One of the teachers came over to talk to me about my costume. He asked what I was, and I told him I was a writer. He laughed, patted my shoulder and said “Dare to dream, Princess.” As a kid, I thought it was nice because he called me princess and I didn’t think anything of it. Looking back on it, that guy was a dick. Who tells a 13 year old girl that she can’t be a writer?

I’m 27 now, still writing. That hasn’t changed. I have journal upon journal stacked up in my room, going through about 5-6 every year. I constantly write, even if it doesn’t make this page. But this page is undergoing a lot of changes, which will be apparent to you soon. And the biggest change is this year I am participating in NaNoWriMo, writing my first novel in a month. Pressure is on. I’ll keep a badge here so you can see where I am in it. Completely different from Alternates too, new story and new characters. Regardless of my shameless self promotion, its Halloween and I am laying in my pajamas, unbathed with a side ponytail and an aluminum foil tiara. Fuck you, teacher of the past. I can be a writer if I want to be. Happy Halloween!!