NEW ENGLAND GOTHIC

Almost every day, when I crawl into bed, I reach for my notebook and pen to write about my day. It doesn't matter if I'm tired or cranky; I make myself put my pen to the paper. Sometimes, I write pages and pages and my hand hurts by the time I'm done. Other days, all my entry reads is "Very very tired... but had a good day."



I've kept a journal ever since I was given a Cinderella notebook in the first grade. However, routine is not my strong suit, and there would often be weeks or months of gaping holes between entries.

In middle school, I began to take journaling more seriously. Still, I didn't write every day. If someone were to read my journals from back then, they would assume I was miserable all the time. And while there is some truth to that (was eighth grade good to anyone?), I also had some amazing friends and life-shaping experiences that I simply never bothered to record, because I treated my journal as just somewhere to rant about how much it sucked to be thirteen.

In my junior year of high school, inspired by people on Tumblr such as Caitlin Hazell, I bought a Moleskine and began to keep an art journal. I am not a talented illustrator or painter - but this was where my breakthrough came. The Moleskine I bought was the perfect size - not too big as to be intimidating, but not too small as to limit what I could do. I'm currently on my third one, and while I don't fill them up as quickly as dedicated artists do, I'm okay with that.


 I carry my notebook almost everywhere, and try to get something down in it at least a few times a week. I tend to write or draw on one side of the paper, and collage on the other. By the time I have reached the last page, my Moleskines are bulging and bursting. I love to flip through them and see how I've evolved. I have stuck in mementos, tickets, pictures, film negatives, Humans of New York Posts, perfume samples, notes from friends, and I've recorded lists on lists on lists, plenty of mediocre poetry, a couple of drawings of people I was infatuated with, and a lot of rap lyrics. I learned not to limit myself with my art journal.


In the past year, though, I have taken up another challenge with journalling. I began to write every day. Whilst I love my Moleskine journal, I didn't want to sully the aesthetics of it with several pages of cramped handwriting every time I felt an emotion. Also, I'm someone who tends to be a tad neurotic, and I thought taking time to process my day could help with that. Although I haven't journalled every damn day in 2017 - I fell off the track for a couple of weeks in April - I am proud to say I've written more days than not. I wouldn't say that much of what I've written has been profound or meaningful. But by giving myself a private, judgement-free zone to express my emotions and think about my life, I feel as if I have become more thoughtful, mature, and independent. Of course, when something serious happens, I still call my best friend - but by giving myself an opportunity to write and reflect on my own life and decisions, I've become better equipped to deal with them.


I know I'm not alone in this; people have kept diaries for thousands of years. You can buy copies of Kurt Cobain's, Franz Kafka's, and George Washington's diaries.... but don't think you have to be intellectual or important to keep a journal. The only requirement is to be a person with thoughts and feelings, who wants to understand themselves and the world a little better. So carve out some time in your day, release yourself from any judgement or pressure, and write. You'll feel the difference.

Feel free to drop a comment below if you journal, to say what you've gained from it or what your personal method is!

Around Christmas last year, I made a decision that was shocking to myself and anyone who knows me: I deleted my Snapchat account.

I had never been the most avid user; I'm awful at keeping things like streaks up, and I don't have the personality to narrate my day on my snap story. Still, I would compulsively check Snapchat at every moment I could. I had to watch everyone's stories and, by extension, keep up with everyone's lives.

However, it wasn't as if I was just checking up on my close friends. I had around 150 people on my Snapchat - not a huge amount, but far more people than I actually know well. I had friends, family, acquaintances I thought were cute, a handful of celebrities... You get the picture.

Instead of Snapchat feeling like a fun thing to do, it became upsetting. Whenever I was home alone on a Saturday night with my tea and Netflix, I'd check Snapchat. There I'd see all the hangouts, concerts, dates, and parties that other people were at. I felt that I should be out doing something too, and that I was uncool/lonely/sad because I wasn't out with friends and broadcasting it to the world. The thing is, most of the time I was actually HAPPY to be home alone. It was a choice I had made to recharge from my week. I didn't feel guilty about it at all, until I went on Snapchat.

Additionally, the "filters" you can use on your selfies really messed with my self-esteem and perception of myself. I became convinced that I HAD to use the dog filter or the "pretty" filter (you know the one) to seem attractive. If my eyes weren't bigger, my nose wasn't hidden, and my skin wasn't blurred, I was ugly. I also had to have the perfect lighting, angle, and expression. Only then was I fit to be seen. Except... I forgot something. The people whose opinions on my appearance I actually care about? They know I have chubby cheeks and acne. They weren't fooled by a dumb filter, because they know who I am and what I look like.

So I made the choice to delete my Snapchat without telling anyone first. That way, if I failed, I could come back quietly. It's been around seven months now, and I haven't regretted my decision even once. Sure, there's occasional moments when I'm late on some gossip - but if it's really that important, my friends end up telling me anyway. And while deleting Snapchat hasn't totally cured my FOMO (because Instagram still exists), it really has helped. Ignorance truly is bliss.

I'm not saying deleting Snapchat is for everyone - if you're an occasional user who has no strong feelings either way, keep using it! But if you feel lonely or left out when you watch other people's stories, or stressed that you have to keep up, do yourself a favor and delete your account. You'll thank me later.

The inspiration for this post is two-fold. My dear friend Carsyn runs an advice Instagram on which she posted a list of things to do when you don't have the money to go out. I thought this was a super cute idea. Then, this week I found myself in Boston, alone, broke, and without a phone. (My life right now is a lot like the chorus of a certain FIDLAR song.)

Hot summer days in a city are both spiritual and intensely uncomfortable. They're the kind of days to listen to Tei Shi, embrace the sweat, and just relax. So, I took some of Carsyn's ideas and ended up having an amazing day to decompress from the travel and visiting family I had been doing.



I spent several hours window shopping (note: this only works if you literally leave your card/cash at home), sitting in Starbucks with an ice water and eavesdropping on conversations, and working on some creative writing on the edge of a fountain. I also got to talk to some awesome, kind, interesting strangers and started work on a new photography project.


I also got to walk with no particular destination, and explore. Something fascinates me about the "wild" spots in a city. The overgrown parks, the people pretending they are the only ones there, the weeds peeping out of the sidewalk. I saw a quote on Facebook the other day that really struck true.

• Meditate
• Walk around and take pictures
• People watch/eavesdrop/draw pictures of strangers (this is especially fun if you, like me, have no artistic talent)
• Journal and write poetry
• Window shop

Some other ideas that I've had fun doing in the past include:

• Go see local music - coffee shops etc often have open mic nights and local bands playing. I love going to Union Coffee Co. and Coffee and Cotton, but if you look around I'm sure you can find some places near you.
• Find new music. Ask your friends, family, or Instagram followers what they've been listening to lately. People love to share their music taste, and it's fun hearing new stuff and learning more about people. Feel free to drop your summer tunes in the comments!
• Watch documentaries on Netflix. Whether it's Louis Theroux's Weird Weekends, the Sriracha documentary, or anything in between, it's fun to learn something new. Plus you get that feeling of superiority when you say you watch documentaries. (Same with podcasts... my all-time faves are This American Life, 2 Dope Queens, and True Story.) 
• Check out your local library! There are often free events, flyers for outside events, and perks like free museum passes. Oh, and books too. 

I have begun the scary work of gradually packing up my room for college, as my plans for August are not yet finalized and I don't know if I will be at home much before I start classes. Looking at each item and asking myself "Is it necessary?" "Is it cool?" "Is this something that will fit in my room?" has caused me so much stress.

I wonder whether my Superman pajamas are too juvenile. If I should bring my X Files poster, or if that's too cliched. I stare at my bookshelf and closet, knowing that there will be things I bring to college left untouched and other things I'll have to call my mom and ask her to FedEx to me. Although my college is only an hour and a half from my house, I still worry. What if it's two am and I'm crying and just need Alexander and the Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day to get me through it?

What if my room is too cluttered? Although I have minimized my book collection, papers, and clothes in the last year, I am still someone with a large bedroom and hoarder-like tendencies. I don't know how to live long-term with another person. I sleep for a ridiculous amount of time per night, need coffee and a podcast before I can talk to anyone in the morning, and spend most of my time in only an oversize t-shirt. I've been raised mostly as an only child, in the countryside. I love the room I have carefully curated over the last few years. I am not built to live in a dorm.

Honestly, I'm terrified about the fall. I'm scared of not liking the dining hall food. I'm scared of liking the dining hall food too much, and the gym not enough. I'm scared I'll fail out of my classes. I'm scared that I won't make friends, or I'll make the wrong friends. I'm scared that my roommate will be a sex addict, or even just someone who smells really bad. I'm scared I'll miss my parents and cat too much and just cry all the time. College is a lot to worry about.

So, instead, I sit in my room and pick it apart, piece by piece. In the spare room, I pile up the things I won't be using until the fall. My extra-long twin sheets, my sweaters, copies of certain books. I scroll through Target and Home Goods' websites. It gives me a small, much-needed feeling of control.

After taking a short hiatus from this blog, which turned into almost two years, I'm trying to start again. There's something intensely vulnerable about blogging which scares me, and kept six versions (rewritten every couple of months) of this "hello again" post, lying dormant in my drafts. But I'm ready to learn how to do this.
Everything about my life has changed since the beginning of my junior year. I am now off to college in two months, which is confusing and terrifying, since I often feel like a twelve year old. I have had the chance to explore weird, beautiful places like Tennessee, San Diego, and South Dakota. I can drive! I switched my intense obsession with raspberry tea to one with obnoxiously cold water! I started growing my hair out! And so, so much more,
Equally, nothing has changed. Summer in the 'burbs still consists of trying in vain to get food after 8pm, walking around to watch the sunset, and watching twelve straight hours of Netflix. (Side note: I finished Riverdale today and I have SO MANY feelings about it.) Trips to New York, like the one I had this weekend with my friend Elsa, seem to be the only way to break up the monotony.
We walked around the Met drenched in sweat, had some good acai, and soaked up vitamin D in central park. A total tourist weekend, but exactly what we needed. Plus, I finally got to see the Comme des Garcons exhibition, and I nearly cry. Enjoy the iPhone pics, as everything was far too spur-of-the-moment for anything else.




So, before I get too scared and simply save this in my drafts again, I'll post it. Please, feel free to comment with any other blogs you think I should read, thoughts you're having, or any encouragement for me to keep writing.

Much love,
Fee