A Happy Sentence: A Reading Challenge

As we are about to step into March, I have decided to sentence myself, in the happiest way. In the fourish weeks that are ahead of us, I shall read four books! On Sunday I shall start the first book and post the review on next Saturday. I can, of course, start the next novel as soon as I finish the one before, if I finish it ahead of schedule- how exciting! With this challenge, I have wanted to be a bit creative, so here are my books I will be reading and the reasons I will be reading them!












Sunday 1st - Saturday 7th March
A book I've read before: Scarlett by Cathy Cassidy

Sunday 8th - Saturday 14th March
A book by an author I've not read before: We Were Liars by E. Lockhart 

Sunday 15th - Saturday 21st March
A book by an author I've read before: Attachments by Rainbow Rowell

Sunday 22nd - Saturday 28th March
A book that is the first part of a series I haven't started: Divergent by Veronica Roth

I am really excited for this challenge and can't wait to start reading Scarlett again!

A Challenge & A Smile,

The Girl in the Moonlight.

"History is Written by the Winners"

History is written by the winners. I think this is a very sad concept that too many people acquire and I'd like not to think this way. I'd like to think that anyone, anyone with a passion for something can look back at their life and think "hey, I lived a life that's worthy of being told to millions." It might not be in history books or all over the internet, but we all could have lives that are worthy history- and are history!

And this passion could be many things. A passion for writing, music, family, friends, helping others... Every life is worthy of spectacular-ness- not just those who we see in the press; in the books; on every website. (Although theirs count too, naturally!) I know this, partially, because of my mum. My mum would never begrudge her life that could be seen as "not worthy of the history books", because it really, really has all of the worth possible. I don't even need to ask her and I know she would talk of her success with having and bringing up me and my brother; she'd talk about her marriage; she'd talk about everything she has learned. Now, that's a good life she is leading.

History is written by us. Every day; every hour; every minute.

I see that I could be missing the point: the "losers" don't get to share their side. (1. we are not losers, a "winner" may not even deserve that title.) But simply put (it may be cliche but, oh, it's true): Your story is worth telling. You write your own history. Whether you're an international superstar or a proud mother, your history can be as great as you want it to be.

I can't help but think of The Fault In Our Stars. In a scene nearing the end of the film Augustus, again, voices his fear of oblivion- his fear of being forgotten. This is a part of the film that really gets me (okay, yes, the whole film "gets" me). Hazel's response is mostly the reason for the tears in my eyes. She illustrates how Gus has his family and her and the life he is living. This is his history. A story worth telling- even though it will be forgotten!

Completely ironically, after writing the above paragraph, I was on YouTube and THIS Hank Green video popped up (If you do not know, he is John Green's brother- who wrote the novel, The Fault In Our Stars). He comments on a Tumblr text post he saw which outlined someone's (plus a lot of other peoples' fear seen through the attention it received) fear of living a "regular life" that would lead to not being "remembered." Hank talks of his "successes" and how it's not through these which make him eternally happy. He makes it known that there is a lot more to this whole history and being remembered thing. But he is also makes it clear that we will be forgotten!

So I'm going to keep writing and keep developing my story.

History & Oblivion,

The Girl in the Moonlight.

Sincerity

Sincerity is an attribute I admire and adore- simply because I think it portrays a natural way of acting a type of lovely loveliness without performance. Sincerity is being and speaking in a way that is honest and carried out without an agenda. I think sincerity is beautiful because it really defines moments and makes them happier in a happy moment or worthy of gratefulness in a sad moment. In whatever circumstance, sincerity is something pure and good.

I've written before that we forgive ourselves easier than we forgive others. A reason for this could be that we know when we, ourselves, are being sincere. We know we mean our "sorry." However, if we're given a sincere apology and we pay attention - we leave our other feelings aside -, sincerity may just be a key ingredient to forgiveness. It can make the feeling of sadness frustrating (but their sincerity should suggest they are frustrated that their regret marks a desire to wish they never caused or contributed to a sad situation) because it's mixed with a sincere want to forgive, but when sincere, an apology is understood- and I think, if under the right circumstances, forgivable. I've been apologised to before with such sincerity that I knew I needed to accept that it was a situation that could be moved on from. I watched someone I love dearly mean every word of their apology (I feel like I've written this as someone with a sorry person grovelling at my feet- I promise it was the not the case!). My heart broke with every tear in their eye and I knew as they uttered "sorry" that I wouldn't regret saying, "It's time to move on." And I haven't regretted this once.

However, I've not just experienced sincerity in sad situations- regretful situations. I've experienced it in the happiest moments I've ever known. A happy evening filled with laughter; filled with fun; filled with knowing that it would continue to be one of my favourite nights. Then a sincere quiet. A sincere hesitation. And a sincere offer of a hand. Sincerity was returned, but that's not what I want to focus on. This sincerity melted my heart and made my stomach fill with such happy acknowledgment of tranquility. The simple presence of this entirely sincere human was enough for me to know that my presence was important and happy to them too.

I think there is also a gorgeous amount of sincerity in proposed plans. With a hopeful glint in their eye I have watched someone become excited as they outline what they wanted us to do one day. And it was the loveliest, loveliest thing. Sincerity is charming. It may be vulnerable to the harsh world but not to me. And I will fight Sincerity's corner for ever.

Sincerity is golden.

A Car Journey & A Gorgeous View,

The Girl in the Moonlight.

Anonymity

My blog, The Girl in the Moonlight, is anonymous. I've never thought about writing a post completely dedicated to why, but for some reason, today - as anonymity is a big part of my blog - I really want to. In some ways, anonymity comes hand-in-hand with The Girl in the Moonlight. Therefore, although I have referenced my choice to be anonymous a few times, I thought I would explain it all in a little bit more detail. 

My anonymity (it sounds so spooky when written like this) was a choice by a seventeen year old who was a lot of nervous when pushing "publish" for the first time.  If it was that point in time again and I had the same choice: to be anonymous or to not be anonymous... I'd make the very same one.

A part of the reason is that I wouldn't want my name to change my writing. If people I knew were aware of my blog, it would change the topics I discuss. I speak about some things (like love or hope or dreams) in more detail than I would to those I know. My name printed at the bottom of the page would put a lot more pressure on me and I would expect I wouldn't even talk about some of the topics I do talk about (although many I am passionate about in my un-anymous life, of course). It could be considered sad and a choice to be anonymous determined by fear of acceptance. On the surface, it is a little. Not in a completely dramatic way. It's not embarrassment of writing, but embarrassment of me not being good (*violins*). At this point in time, the thought of my name printed at the end of this page does cause me a little fear. Having my name there would, I know for sure, mean losing some of the personal touch that I do think is associated to my blog being this way.

This post is harder to write than anticipated.

Yes, my anonymity is a little to do with embarrassment. (I am by no means expecting any sympathy.) It's not that I'm not proud of my writing. I am. It's just, the thought of people knowing about my blog makes me very nervous and have a very edgy feeling in my stomach. I am not embarrassed by my blog. It's my favourite thing I have created so far. It really, really is. I just can't imagine posting blog posts, knowing that people closest to me (and just people I know) could be reading what I write and thinking thoughts about it. It's just not something I want. I want my writing free from something that I can't quite pinpoint. 

Sometimes all I want is to write a lifestyle post with pictures of me and my friends or me and my day in more obvious detail. This is something that sucks a little. I adore lifestyle posts and like the idea of my post being that little bit more personal. But, I don't regret it. My blog is entirely about my life.

One thing I fear about my anonymity is the thought of people thinking it's a big, pretentious move. I am most certainly not trying to be Gossip Girl- I am not trying to create loads of "woo" around who I am. Nuh-uh. But, it's a risk I am willing to take. 

I said at the start that being anonymous is a big part of my blog. This is so true. But it's also not a big part... I'm still a teenage girl with a love of McFly and books and writing about all sorts of things. These are important attributes to who I am. These are attributes that are portrayed all throughout The Girl in the Moonlight. So am I really all that anonymous?

At the exact point that this sentence is being written, there are different sentences with different points I want to cover written in different places on the page. This very much so helps me know why I am anonymous. This post has made my thoughts very alive and very jumpy- very quick. Writing is one of my absolute favourite hobbies and not one I want to jeopardise. Maybe it could been seen as sad that I don't share this love with my friends and family, but I don't think it is. It's my little secret. Because I want it to be. Because the secretiveness keeps me sheltered- keeps my thoughts excited to come out. They are never censored. 

The Girl in the Moonlight, although anonymous, is 100% me.

Little Notes & Lingering Happiness,

The Girl in the Moonlight.

Maybe Someday - Colleen Hoover

Oh my goodness, this novel has got me typing very fangirl-ily. Maybe Someday by Colleen Hoover is a young adult book I would always want to read.
























So now I am writing a book review about a story that I am attached to in a way that I never have been before; in a way that has left me unable to string a comprehensible sentence about it to anyone I know because my feelings about the whole thing are confused but very, very attached. Inhale, exhale. I spent a lot of this book battling with my own feelings about the whole scenario to find myself as at war with the same things the characters are. No spoilers intended, but this story just about ripped my heart apart.

Maybe Someday is about Sydney and Ridge. In print it looks obvious, right? Nuh-uh.

There are a lot of main details that could give away a lot so I'm going to do a lot of being vague. At least, I'll try. Sydney's future, although is debated in her own mind, is completely obliterated by a truth she learns unexpectedly. Ridge offers Sydney a helping a hand although it's her helping hand he needs. And all throughout this, a lot of heart-wrenching happenings are involved. And as much as I empathise for Ridge and Sydney, I empathise with myself. I cried. A lot.

This is probably the most "fangirl-y" review I have written before because I am honestly in a trance of confusion and happiness and heartbreak and sadness. Maybe Someday has made me question a lot; it's made me cry a lot; it's made me will for a lot. A lot of different outcomes... Unsure of the one I really want. I know, pull out the violins.

Sydney is seriously awesome. Although with flaws - we all have 'em! -, she is honest and true and considerate. She is also passionate and vulnerable. And yet strong. Then there's Ridge. He's humble and talented; passionate and truthful. And then there's a couple of other characters we like, some of whom make the whole story that whole lot more difficult.

I do love a quirky feature in a book and Colleen Hoover does this awesomely. With lyrics printed in the story, it makes one even more in love with the story and understanding of the feelings involved.

Maybe Someday is heart-wrenching, yes. But sweet. Very sweet. It's honest and it's a little brutal to my heart but it teaches. Maybe Someday teaches a lot.

A Guitar & Lyrics,

The Girl in the Moonlight.

A Letter From Philip

♡ ♡ ♡

Dear Jellie,

My dad says I'm not very good at throwing because I'm so good at waiting for people to throw to me. And because I'll be trying my hardest to catch this hopeful metaphorical ball, to have someone's back, I've never put the same effort into throwing. Because the fate of my throw is in someone else's hands then. He's never said about the point that is missing. No one seems to throw to me, so I can't show that I can catch. Jack, Andy and Peter are all my best friends but they don't throw to me, and I know why. They just don't know that, given the chance, I would catch. But this is me throwing something to you, because I don't think you'll throw it to me.

I really like the way your smile smiles. I just think you should know that.

I don't think you mean for it to be so spectacular but it looks like the fireworks show my mum and dad took me to last year. There were pink fireworks and blues ones. And yellow ones too. Not that your smile is colourful. Not literally. But it is. To me. I know it is to everyone you come across, too, but you shine brighter than the sun and I want you to believe what I believe. That you shine brightest through my eyes.

Sometimes in English when you're working, I look at you. It is true that your lovely face and hair control my eyes' wishes, but it's just the way you are.

I don't know if anyone has ever explained the way you are to you. I hope they have. But I hope I can tell you in the best way.

Because you do everything in the best way.

You always say hi to me before lunch when we pass each other and you always ask to be my partner in English when you don't have to. You don't make me feel silly for it either. You tell me the funniest jokes and you laugh at mine. And you're never mean. Not ever.

I watched you with everyone else when you performed your piano piece in assembly and the song you played was exactly like the expression on your face. I don't know if you meant for it to be that way. But it was everything nice in the world. I like it when you play piano. You're really talented.

I just think you're really nice.

Love,

Philip

♡ ♡ ♡

This letter is related to this short story! In my mind, Philip modified bits of this as he got older but never the meaning would never be changed!

Jokes & Pianos,

The Girl in the Moonlight.

A Story About Jellie

Jellie from the narrator's eyes: through all of her years so far

Jellie is a girl with many different smiles, with many different laughs and many different twinkling sets of eyes. Yet, they are all sincere. Just seen differently through other sets of eyes.

Jellie from her mother's eyes: 2014

Jellie squinted a little and nodded. "Yes, maybe," she responded to her mother's question that was proposed a mere five seconds before.

"Angela, I know that squint."

Jellie squinted again. "What squint?"

"A squint different to the latter one. The previous was your what-on-earth-did-my-dear-mother-just-say-I-was-not-paying-attention squint."

Jellie squinted. Slowly this time.

"Would you like me to repeat the question?"

"Nope. You used up your one question just then, dear mother, I'm afraid. Angela Lily only acknowledges two questions a day. Considering dad forced me to endure his question about how to upload photos to his computer, your request about whether I would like you to repeat your question leaves me with eleven hours, thirty minutes and about forty seconds until you are welcome to ask me your previous question - which could be considered a third question - again."

"Jellie," her mother squints her eyes at her then.

"For you, there are exceptions." Jellie grinned innocently.

"You do know you are a nightmare, right?"

"Mother. That was another question."

"Jellie. Angela, dear. Would you please pass me the cheese?"

"Gosh, mother .Why didn't you just ask?"

Angela was apparently five when her family began to call her Jellie. Every Sunday when her mother made jelly for dessert, Angela would do what she called the "jelly dance" and wiggled as if she were the green or orange or red or yellow or pink funny dessert.

Her mother tells this story when she explains her daughter to work colleagues or new friends or anyone, really. Jellie doesn't know it, but she does. Her mother then goes on to smile with pride. "I think this dance was the start of Jellie becoming her nickname."

If Jellie heard her mother say this, she would flush red and wish she wouldn't say it anymore, but her mother made sure she never did hear because it is her favourite thing to say. Because it always lead to her mother grinning about her daughter's smile; that innocently mischievous, kind smile.

Jellie and an afar admirer: 2009

As Jellie walked down the corridor at lunch time, books held tightly to her chest, she noticed Philip from her Geography and also her History class looking very wide-eyed in the face of two bullying, egotistical what-nots (as she once told them to their faces). After closer inspection, Jellie heard the taller of the bullying, egotistical what-nots snigger and say with apparent evil ease, "You're a freak. What kind of person writes this in their spare time?"

Quickening her pace, Jellie approached the bullying, egotistical what-nots and when the smaller one narrowed his eyes at the taller one, they both turned to face her. Seeming a little put out.

From the corner of Jellie's eye, she could see Miss Addlington. This would take some careful execution.

"What did you just call him?" Jellie said, expressionless.

"A freak," the smaller one said, seeming a little nervous as Jellie's confrontation.

"A what, sorry?"

"A freak," the taller one said, with apparent confidence. The smaller of the two, Dan laughs. "Philip James is a freak."

"Adam [the taller of the bullying, egotistical what-nots]. With me. Now."

As Philip, Dan and Jellie watched Adam being taken to the head-teacher's office with Miss Addlington, Dan whispered an apology and scurried off. "Um, thank you, Jellie," Philip said.

"You are more than welcome, Philip. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he nodded. He didn't seem uncomfortable anymore and that made Jellie happy.

"Glad to hear it." She sent him a smile and asked if he wanted to sit with her at lunch.

He hesitated but took up the offer and they sat on a bench in the sunshine and ate their sandwiches. All the while, Philip couldn't wait to sneak another look at Jellie's smile that shone like sunshine.

Jellie from the eyes of her granddad: 2009

Jellie was only eleven years old when her granddad told her she was something the world should watch out for. He'd always known it and always showed her in a plethora of different ways, but when she was eleven and called into the head-teacher's office with him because out of a school of over a thousand pupils, the head-teacher had often been told of Jellie's kind nature and way of looking out for those being bullied, his heart smiled with joy and pride. And as the head-teacher uttered these words, Jellie's granddad smiled at, once again, Jellie's modesty. She was missing her smile that was worth an uncountable amount of rainbows and the pots of gold that so famously are attached to them. Only, when people complain that pot of gold does not exist, it is because Jellie's smile is that pot of gold. As Jellie's granddad nodded in agreement, he took another look at his granddaughter; flushed a little with a modest smile that said, "you are welcome" to anyone she had helped with her kindness.

Jellie from the same previous afar admirer: 2014

It was February the fourteenth and Philip approached Jellie at lunchtime. She was reading on a bench outside in the welcomed sunshine. When she noticed a presence, she looked up. "Hello Philip!" She grinned that grin.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Jellie," he said it a little nervously, but he felt strangely confident.

Her smile didn't waver and Philip knew that she wouldn't let him fall, "And to you too!"

Philip looks down in his hands, a folded over piece of paper willing him on in his palms. He knows Jellie doesn't avert her eyes, and is oblivious to the paper in his hands. That's just her style. She wouldn't intrude.

"See, the thing is. About five years ago, you stepped in when I was having a rough time."

Jellie's eyes widen a little, not as if she can't remember, but as if she wouldn't ever have thought her act would have made a mark on his life. But it did. As well as all of the marks she left before that event and all of the marks she left afterwards. Marks that made Philip's heart swell with a feeling he didn't want to lose.

"Adam and Dan were calling me a freak."

Jellie considers this for a moment and sighs sadly, "Yes, I remember."

"Well, the reason they said that was because of this." Philip hesitated and then with all of the strength the marks Jellie left of Philip's heart had given him, he waited for Jellie's hands to move a little and he placed the folded piece of paper into her hands. "Happy Valentine's Day, once again, Jellie."

Philip turned away, but after about five seconds, he heard Jellie say aloud, with undertones of a whisper, "Wait." The whisper portrayed something beautiful, something meaningful.

He turned back and watched. Jellie's eyes carefully indulged in his words. His eleven year old's words. Before today, Philip would have thought watching Jellie read his letter about Jellie and all of her wonderfullness would be torture. But it wasn't. It was calming.

Jellie stood and seemed to stop before holding his eyes, "May I keep it?"

"You may."

There was a quiet that sung a song between them. Then she closed the distance between them and she clumsily took his hand. "Will you be my valentine, Philip?"

Philip felt a smile take up all of the room on his face, while Jellie smiled her sincere, mischievously kind, sunshiney, rainbow-y smile back at him. But he saw something else in that smile then. And he liked what he saw. "I will be your valentine."

~

So here is my second short story of 2015, especially for Valentine's Day! *Big smiles from me.* On Monday I will be posting Philip's letter (which you will be to read HERE when it is posted)!

A Smile & A Letter,

The Girl in the Moonlight.

A Dream That You Hold in Your Hands

Books, I have said before, are my best friends. They are best friends that I could never begrudge, even when they are stealing my pennies. (Okay, I willingly give them my pennies.) I haven't posted a book haul for a while and so I thought I would talk about a few books I have accumulated recently.

A book I have bought recently is The Shock of the Fall by Nathan Filer which I have wanted to have on my shelves for the longest time. The blurb (naturally intentionally) gives away very little about the novel, and I'd assume, something rather central to the story too. For this reason, I'm not sure what to say about it- especially considering I haven't read it yet. I am so very excited to open this novel and review it on the blog!

I have also accumulated One Night in Winter by Simon Sebag Montefiore recently. A novel with historical tones but also about love, One Night in Winter seems to be packed with all sorts of gripping attributes. I am too excited to open this novel.

After reading Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell, I couldn't wait to have another gorgeously bright novel of Rainbow Rowell's in my hands. And here we are. I chose to buy Attachments next. Based in 1999, Attachments is about the email exchanges of Beth and Jennifer and the act of falling in love carried out by Lincoln as he witnesses these exchanges. Ooo, I am excited.
























I popped into Waterstones the other day and became a little flushed at the sight of £1 novels. So, as you can see, I bought a couple. I picked up Paris for One by Jojo Moyes because I adore Me Before You, her awesome novel. I am so excited to read this little treat. I also - although excited by them all - picked up Dead Man Talking by Roddy Doyle. On the back, it says "fast, funny and just a tiny bit spooky"; it looks like a funny little book that will entertain me on a journey somewhere.

These two novels are part of the Quick Reads charity. They are a range of stories that are roughly 100 pages long to encourage everyone to read. I think it's an awesome idea and the stories are ones I hope to collect more of. They are perfect for bus journeys or train journeys or afternoons where I just want a bit of a read.

"A book is a dream that you hold in your hands," - Neil Gaiman.

Pages & Ink,

The Girl in the Moonlight.

A Little Bit of Change

When I was younger, adulthood and choices changing the direction of my life completely were kind of unknown to me. All the same, it didn't stop me from making, what I considered to be, important life choices. "Mum, I'm going to be a nurse," my mother often reminds me of this when I'm pondering my future career. We then remember how I wanted to be a teacher, followed by the decision of a firefighter and then, of course, I dreamed of being an author.

My brother and I used to spend our time together playing video games and watching films, but it has to be said, when the two of us have the same time free, although we don't do them nearly as much as we once did, we enjoy these activities once again. We lay in our living room and indulge in Star Wars or Lord of the Rings or any Marvel film.

So much has changed, but basic views and ideals that we have have stayed more or less the same.

My brother and I no longer live together, but we still have a level of strong siblingness that is maintained. I am still in education but my brother is in the world of work and yet we both still excite each other over new films and other similar things. A lot of our interests are very different and yet ones we acquired a long time ago remain the same together.

Yet it must be noted that, seriously: So much has changed.

My brother and I always note that we would love to be around the age of ten again. However, we also enjoy the direction of our lives. We once relied on our parents heavily, and now we're full grown adults, finding our own way about and finding new opportunities because of our efforts. We are older and more mature but still always texting and calling when we can and having the best time when we are together.

Ultimately, mine and my brother's lives have progressed in that growing up kind of way. We are naturally people with more knowledge and more experience and more of an adult outlook on life than we had ten years ago. But so much has stayed the same too. Excluding our film excitement, we both love family days and appreciate values such as truthfulness and kindness. We are ambitious but I'd like to think we are humble and continue this throughout life.

Films & Games,

The Girl in the Moonlight.

How To Be a Woman - Caitlin Moran

I don't often read non-fiction books (I plan to from now on) but found myself being incredibly excited to read this book: How To Be a Woman by Caitlin Moran. It's a seriously awesome read.

I want to scream from the rooftops and tell everybody ever to buy this book, laugh until their stomach hurts, think until they realise the truth and recommend it to every woman and every man they know. This book is something else.

Taking the important issue of feminism and making her points full with punches of hilarity, Caitlin Moran has produced a book-long nugget of awesomeness. Through being very witty and very truthful, Moran entertains flawlessly. She talks about all of the dilemmas of womanhood that you may not assign feminism with, but you will once you read this book. You may be funnily shocked by the content, but it leaves a poignant mark of how things still need changing... but in the most fabulously awesome way.

It should be mentioned that the hilarity of this book does not take the legitimacy of her points away.

Yet, it's entirely serious, too. Whether it be amongst the funny points, or when Moran is simply spot on and raw about it. It made me want to throw my fist in the air and chant for the sake of womankind. In fact, I'm going to do that right now. Hold your horses. *Holds horses... Runs into the garden, makes a memorable scene and returns to laptop.* We women deserve to be heard.

I read this book last year and found myself so differently excited by a book than usual that I wasn't sure how to write this review. Caitlin Moran's writing is spectacular. It really is something else.

A Funny Book & A Message,

The Girl in the Moonlight.

Where She Went - Gayle Forman

After closing If I Stay by Gayle Forman (you can read my review HERE), I was so very excited to read the sequel, Where She Went. And here we are. With a happily tear-stained face, I grin excitedly about this little treasure of a novel. Gayle Forman has done it again: made me sad and cry while all the while being thankful for it!

*Potential traces of spoiler.*

Where She Went follows the "decision" made in If I Stay, although we do not enter the novel with the knowledge of what exactly has happened. Where, in the first novel, Mia is the protagonist, in Where She Went, it is Adam's life we more closely follow. His narrative is heartbreaking and only makes us want him to find the peace he is - whether he knows it or not - searching for. All the same, his narrative makes us route for Mia too- because, despite everything, he never makes us feel rage towards Mia.

Adam is part of a popular band, Shooting Star, After having his heart broken, the band become bigger than ever with Adam's songs written by Mia's actions. The novel is set predominantly in New York City and this setting is gorgeously fitting for the adventure that Adam and Mia partake in. Like a twist of fate, they are back in each other's lives for a night, with assumptions and questions lingering in the night air around them.

Although we didn't know as much about Adam as we did Mia from the first novel, we learn a lot about the Adam before the heartbreaking event in If I Stay and the Adam afterwards in Where She Went. Despite his sadness, loneliness and struggles with everyday life in Where She Went, I feel like Adam hadn't changed a lot. His thoughts and reflections on the past made him the Adam that Mia loved.

It could have been easy to feel a little anger towards Mia as the reader, but I didn't. I didn't feel anger towards either character even though Adam feels guilty for feeling annoyed at Mia considering the events of the first novel. When Adam watches Mia play the cello on the most important night for her career in her life, it was clear to me that Mia was still Mia. Passionate and in love with music, Mia was still the Mia I routed for in If I Stay. Heartbreaking as it is to see the change in Mia's life since If I Stay, her strength and determination and view on life portrays Mia's awesomeness.

I adored the lyrics of the songs Adam wrote because of Mia being at the beginning of the chapters. This, although quirky, made everything a little more heartbreaking. It really made me engage with their story. In my eyes, the lyrics told the story of Adam's sadness and story since the first novel.

Where She Went was a good friend to me for a few days and I really, really adore it. I, as well as Adam, had questions and I needed this installment to the AdamandMia story. Sweet. Honest. Refreshing. I love Where She Went and the story, as a whole.

I cannot wait to read more of Gayle Forman's works.

New York City & Adventures,

The Girl in the Moonlight.

My Brother

Being at home on a day off from school during the holidays or at the weekend never felt like I was far away from friends. Because I always had my brother. And my brother is someone that deserves many happy things and earned sparkly things. I offer him, although in silence, a few humble words.

Having a sibling as a best friend is like having a person who I can unconditionally play PlayStation 2 with. Now that is cool.

My brother and I look out for each other by being best friends. We empathise with each other's sadness or anything of the sort and the sincerity is confirmed because once we talk of anything we've experienced that is bringing us down, one of us utters genuine upset as a response and as much of a helping hand as we can through simply being there and suggesting sensible outcomes, and then we watch a film or play games. Either way, we spend time together. And this time means so much to me.

I remember going into school once and I was really upset. I went from having completely tear-filled eyes to really crying. My brother, although a little helpless (I hope this will be endearing to his future partner- I am sure it will be), showed how upset he was by my sadness and how much he wanted my sadness to go. And do you know why I know what his facial expression projected? Because I've felt myself portray that same face when he's been the subject of sadness. He did make me feel better.

What defines our brother-sister awesomeness is that we spend our time laughing and smiling a lot. It sounds like something very Disney, but it kind of really is. My brother is kind, hard-working and very funny. He is one of my favourite humans of all time and I know he's going to very far because he already is going very far. I know we're always going to be this close even when distance is between us and time is spent without watching films and playing games.

I feel so very lucky to have my brother as my brother. I know he knows this but I wanted some written proof. So here we are.

Films & Games,

The Girl in the Moonlight.

"Too Attached"

I have been thinking about the term "too attached" today and the merry-go-round of thoughts in my mind about it justify a blog post dedicated to the idea, I believe.

Too often, I think, "too attached" is used to express a negative opinion of someone or a group of people (or whoever) being embarrassingly and/or unhealthily obsessed with something or someone. Naturally it has been, in my life, heard to be said about an individual and their feelings for another. It applies, it seems, to a lot of circumstances.

Glue. It's an example of something we use to make sure something is firmly attached to something else; stuck to something. We want it to be "too attached", right?

Of course, we must remember the balance. The all important balance a lot of people seek to achieve.

But, dare I say it, in the right circumstance, becoming "too attached" to something isn't a bad thing.

The role models people choose to choose is a big debate, and not one I am about go into it. However, a big part of my life has always been (and always will be) McFly. I adore their music and I adore them. Put simply, this these are the two reasons I am "attached" to them. I choose to invest my time into listening to their awesome music and watching their interviews. On a wider scale, I choose to spend my money on their merchandise and their music etc, etc (a choice I will not regret and will continue to do- I love wearing their tshirtsWHU and their wristbands). On an even wider scale, other people (although I secretly hope and beg they find it endearing) people see me as, shall we say, "very" attached. I would never consider my love (yes, love) for McFly as ever being "too" anything. My way of loving McFly should never put me in danger; it is innocent and happy.

In turn, I adore books. I become "too attached" to characters. I may even utter these tabooed words myself (The Fault In Our Stars particularly coming to mind). The act of me reading, however, shouldn't be one that has negative connotations, and I've never had that suggested to me. It makes me happy, I'm indulging in words and I'm using up my time in a productive way.

So, why do some people name certain circumstances (although I am not pinpointing certain ones, and writing vaguely about personal stories I have heard of) as this tabooed idea: The idea of being *gasps* Too Attached.

I want to make it clear that there are obviously circumstances I am not covering where there are dangerous situations if someone does something let alone becomes "attached" or "too attached", and there are different contextual factors to each case. However, in the circumstance that I am thinking about in my head and not writing down in words, I simply don't agree.

What brings us happiness without danger or threat of taking away anything else that is good, should never be shunned.

Bracelets & Little Notes,

The Girl in the Moonlight.