Let The Day Go With A Sigh

Ask me anything   Allison. Ally. SUNY New Paltz. 21.
Check out my weekly articles on honestyforbreakfast.com and my creative works at attemptsatfiction.tumblr.com

How To Make Yourself Do What You Don't Want to Do →


1. Rather than listening to the voice in your head that is screaming “I hate this; I don’t want to do this” think about why it is a GOOD thing to do.
2. Instead of trying to pretend that you don’t feel this way, accept that you are feeling very blah and negative.
3. Don’t think about results and…

— 40 minutes ago with 691 notes


This week, I did something I told myself over and over again I was too afraid to do––I went on my first interview. It was an interview for a position as a teaching assistant for my school’s English department grad program, and I remember the day I went to pick up the forms. It took me FOREVER to get up to that office just to look at the application, and took me even longer to fill it out and hand it in. I went to professor after professor, filled with anxiety every morning, dreading the due date for the paper apps. The day I finally handed the entire application in, I went out to celebrate. There was nothing really to celebrate, only the fact that I had filled out multiple forms, handed in a resume, a sample writing piece, a transcript. Still, I overcame the first step, and I had a week to hear back about an interview. 

That next week, I got the interview call. I sat down on my couch, closed my eyes and took deep, deep breathes. The interview I had spoken about with my professors, the interview I had deemed “The Big Scary Interview” for about three months––that was finally going down, next week. It didn’t feel real but at the same time, it was all I could think about. I wrote it down on my calendar, I comforted myself with the fact that five boxes laid between today and the interview, four boxes, three boxes, two boxes. 

The morning of the interview––still in denial. I had my answers ready, had listed out possible questions, bought my outfit the weekend before. I stood in my room and practiced. I practiced my answers, practiced my tone of voice, practiced my facial expressions. But over and over again I told myself, “Sure, I can do this in my room, but there is no way I’ll speak this eloquently in the interview. I’m going to be too nervous, too choked up. I’m going to forget everything I wanted to say.” 

The interview. I sat down and realized, I got this. I was shaking at first but was able to push past that. The interviewers were friendly and encouraging, they were interested in my answers. I had built up the interview to exactly what I had originally named it: “The Big Scary Interview.” But it wasn’t that, and I surprised myself. I felt good about my answers. They told me they’d get back to me in two weeks. 

I analyzed, like most people post-interview. I thought back to all the “um’s” that I said, the stutters, the lack of questions I asked at the end. I thought about the chances of me getting the position, but decided it was most likely not going to happen. I decided to take the next two weeks to relax, to FINALLY put the TA stuff out of my head after months and months of thinking about it. 

Two days later, I got the call. I got the position. I asked him how long I had to decide if I wanted to take it or not. He sounded confused. He expected me to take it right away, I guess. It was unexpected, can you blame me? I have until the 15th to decide if I want to dedicate the next two years of my life to this program. To spend the next two years in the place I have already spent four. I have five days to decide. 

For now, I don’t know. But I’m happy. I’m happy they deem me qualified. I don’t know how many people applied, but I’m happy. I did something that seemed scary, something I hesitated to do, something I was so close to deciding against. I did it all the way up to acceptance and for now, that’s all I need to think about. 

— 1 week ago

#interview  #TA  #college  #teaching  #english  #happy 
Honesty For Breakfast - A Prescription For Sadness - The Impractical Jokers →

(Source: attemptsatfiction)

— 2 weeks ago with 2 notes

"Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can’t go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does."
Margaret Atwood, The Penelopiad (via quotethat)

(via kali-4nia)

— 2 weeks ago with 539 notes


I made a slideshow about how to create a fictional character… I got most of the information from the ‘start writing fiction’ (free) course on the OpenUniversity website and found it incredibly useful so here’s a visual version for you :)

(via knitewriter)

— 2 weeks ago with 106813 notes

Living Above Time - A New Perspective On A Busy Life →


GenTwenty posted my article from HforB about time, check it out! :)

— 2 weeks ago with 1 note


I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both.
He kisses me

My college theater professor once told me
that despite my talent,
I would never be cast as a romantic lead.
We do plays that involve singing animals
and children with the ability to fly,
but apparently no one
has enough willing suspension of disbelief
to go with anyone loving a fat girl.
I daydream regularly
about fucking my boyfriend vigorously on his front lawn.

On the mornings I do not feel pretty,
while he is still asleep,
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,
for a punchline,
for other girls’ phone numbers.

When we hold hands in public,
I wonder if he notices the looks —
like he is handling a parade balloon on a crowded sidewalk;
if he notices that my hands are now made of rope.

Dear Cosmo: Fuck you.
I will not take sex tips from you
on how to please a man you think I do not deserve.

He tells me he loves me with the lights on.

I can cup his hip bone in my hand,
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.
He does not believe me when I tell him he is beautiful.
Sometimes I fear the day he does will be the day he leaves.

The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop
assumes we are just friends
and flirts over the counter.
I spend the next two weeks
mentally replacing myself with her
in all of our photographs.
When I admit this to him
we spend the evening taking new photos together.
He will not let me delete a single one of them.

The phrase “Big girls need love too” can die in a fire.
Fucking me does not require an asterisk.
Loving me is not a fetish.
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty.
I am not a fucking novelty.

I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,
and kisses me


Rachel Wiley  (via howweknewit)

(Source: sweetdeltablues, via somewhere-behind-the-blinds)

— 3 weeks ago with 231212 notes