Thursday, May 31, 2012 11:11 P.M.

I promised myself that I would up your blog once a month. May almost escaped me, but I am always one for last minute (something I think we both share haha). I get to see you tomorrow. (Finally! Girl, pick up your phone more often!)

Write (Ooops, I mean) Right, your letter awaits.

Dear Beckett,

The Club Davis. Did you that what people call the bibleoteca? Am I the only one out of the loop? Anyway, I walked into the library to meet the Guy with the Shoes, and for a moment, I didn't see him. But I got a wave.

(Might I just add? A wave across the entire library is way braver thing to do than what I would have done which is awkwardly stand around until he found me.)

Anywho, he was in The Stacks coffee shop, getting his caffine fix before he started his portfolio. We went up to the second floor study rooms. I followed him up the stairs, staring first at his shoes, listening to the drumbeat of his footsteps in time with mine.

Conversation. I waited way too long to write you this letter. I can't remember a word, not a single word of what we talked about in the stairwell, but there were words and his eyes and not just awkward moving silence. This, I promise you. I'm sorry for the lack of details.

I remember staring at his shoes, but I don't remember what they looked like. I remember taking note of his shirt, and thinking it was interesting. I remember trying to find a word for it, but I can't for the life of remember what it looked like now. (Apparently odd enough to warrant word searching. Or not odd at all...)

I do remember our attempt to find a study room. It was either the second to last or the third to last room. Our search went something like: Boy with textbook. Friends talking more than studying. Girl with headphones. Girl... Watching polar bears on YouTube?! (Just kidding. ;) ) Guy with a coffee stained color sweater. Etc.

And finally, Empty. He sat facing away from the door. I sat across from him.

(A note: I could practically feel you guys reading this moment through the clear glass wall.
And then I forgot about all of you all together.)

(A note about my note: I don't mean I forgot about you in a bad way. I was just... focusing on other things.)

Like his eyes. (Which is a good sign. I remember his eyes and not his shoes. It's about time I keep the hair out of my face.) Did you know? Well you would know Beckett, that is hair is blond? (Random writer-ish thought: Did you know the difference between blonde and blond is that blonde with the e is only used when describing a girl and blond is used in both cases?) Anywho, the point is that guys with blond hair really aren't my type. Until now.

I remember clearly thinking, He did his hair. Isn't that ridiculous? (Do you ever think about how ridiculous you are and just start laughing? I do that all the time.) Honestly, who thinks these thoughts? See the reason I noticed it is because I almost never do my hair.

I'm in crush with a guy who does his hair more than me... And owns way more shoes than I do... Oh! And he had a different bag that day. I remember because you know before? When he said we had similar bags and I was all eh, our bags aren't that similar, guy with the shoes...? Well this bag was much more similar to my bag, it was the same color green, it had buckles, and yet, it was somehow much more manly... (You're laughing, aren't you? Don't laugh! *covers face with hands* It's true!)

I've gotten so off topic. But I really can't relay the conversation word for word like I usually can...

Things The Boy with the Shoes and I discussed and the estimated percentage of time we talked about them:
1) The format of our portfolio (ie the reason we were there) 7%
2) Shoes' poems (He handed me his little red book again) 21%
3) My new club and his new club 12%
4) Confidential Music-y Secret Stuff 9%
5) Why he wasn't taking Creative Writing 4%
6) Summer 5%
7) My writing (He offered to read more of my writing. For enjoyment. *swoon*) 15%
8) Why he thinks I should speak up in creative writing/His new song/His roommate's Twitter account 6%
9) It was nice to meet you's/See you around's/Me standing awkwardly in the door with a smile 9%
10) Other miscellaneous things I don't recall 12%

So yes, we really focused on our portfolios. We were so getting things done. Well, there you have it. How The Guy with the Shoes and The Girl with the Blog sorta-kinda-barely focused on creative writing.
 

Love you lots,

Sarah

P. S. Did I mention that he sent me this new song on Facebook? I told him that I liked his other stuff better. (Which means I admitted to creepy and finding said other stuff) He haha-ed (in a hopefully genuine way, it's impossible to tell if text is genuine) and said that he actually agreed with me. He likes his other stuff better too. 

P. P. S. He asked me about the plot for my NaNoWriMo... I hope my response (it was long) didn't scare him away...

Wednesday, April 25, 2012 12:44 PM

Dear Beckett,

The guy with the shoes complimented (?) my shoes the other day... Well that is he said something along the lines of, "Your shoes are like a forest on your feet."

I said, "Thanks? I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not."

And he said, "I'm not sure either." His eyes were full of laughter.

Ashley tried to make me feel better (though honestly? I thought his comment was pretty funny. It was what I thought of these shoes when I first got them.), "They're not a forest! They're flowers. They'd be more like a... like a..." She searched for the right word.

Guy with the shoes: "I think you're making this worse."

Ashley: "Shut up! I'm trying to be nice!" *a pause* "They... They look like a bouquet of flowers. That's the word! A bouquet!"

"Thanks," I said, smiling as our conversation dissolved into laughter.

And! And he had the coolest socks on today, navy blue with horizontal red stripes paired with his black dress shoes.

Honestly. I love socks.

I'm so in crush with him. It's a bit ridiculous. The guy with the shoes and the girl with the socks, sounds  like a good love story, right?

***

Also, I maybe, sort of, kind of, accidentally, creep-ed on the guy with the shoes yesterday while I was writing with Sarahnade. He got a frappuccino at the starbucks in the student center. I can only assume that it was mocha... Though I cannot confirm this...

And? He does have a similar backpack to mine though his is much bigger and more tan, but whatever, okay? I didn't bring it up. He did. So yeah...

And he keeps wearing his black jacket that makes it seem as though he's trying to play the bad boy type... which is kinda amusing... Unless of course he secretly IS the bad boy... Which doesn't actually make it any easier to not like him...

***

Oh. My. God.

I sat next to him today and I asked him, "Hey, did you get any work done on your play?" (Well really I asked the whole class, but mostly him...)

And he was all, "No, but I wrote a song last night. Which never happens. I never write songs that fast. It takes me forever."

AND THEN, then he pulled out his little red notebook, the one he keeps in his pocket at all times. He said, "Here, I'll show you."

And he handed it to me. And I felt like... like I was holding on to a piece of his soul for a moment. You know?

He handed me a piece of his soul and sure I had to return it, but for one moment in time, I felt like I was Ian in the Host when he was holding onto Wanda... Is this making any sense?

And he probably didn't mean it to be anything other than him showing me his work, but I can't help but think that that's like me, opening up all my word documents and let someone browse them or like me opening my journal and letting someone rifle through the pages.

 And I can't get over it. Not yet. I held that book in my hands.

And that's big, you know?

I hope things are going well for you, Beckett. And I hope you sat by the good smelling guy in Bio today. It always makes me laugh when you mention him.

Love ya lots,

Sarah

P.S. You're awesome. :)

Friday, March 30, 2012 3:29 pm

Dear Beckett,

I got coffee, mocha in fact.

Here's how it went down:

Me via text message: "So... I have your paper for you :)"
The guy with the shoes: "Perfect. :)"
Me: "I'm in the student center if you want to swing by and get it? Or I can owe you coffee xD"
The guy with the shoes: "Hey, I'm a fan of coffee. haha"

So I walk to creative writing today, coffee in hand, and I find Ashley (she's this really sweet girl from my class) sitting on the floor outside. We chitchat for a while before I hear shoes approaching in the distance. The guy with the shoes turns the corner... (I just realized that I wasn't looking at his shoes today... I don't know what shoes he was wearing!) And Ashley and I are both like, "Hey!"

(Blah blah normal conversation blah blah)

I had set my phone on top of the coffee and (as is my addiction to my cellular device) I went to check the time and was like, "Oh! This is yours." *me, handing him the coffee* (Too lazy to write grammatically today)

He takes it from me with a smile and a "Yes!" of enthusiasm. He moves to lean against the wall across from me as I search in my bag for his comments/paper and hand them to him. His eyebrows raise a little as he eyes the paper-clipped pile. "Thanks," he says, glancing over it. Looking back to me, he adds, "What do the different colors mean?"

I laugh a little, "Nothing. I just like colorful pens." *shrug*

Ashley: "You get a drink? What's up with that?"

I say nothing, only smile.

The guy with the shoes without missing a beat: "We're dating. She brought me coffee." (Personally? I would've went with the I lost a bet cover, but *shrug* what can you do?)

*cue me finding my backpack terribly important all of a sudden*

Ashley: "What? When? Why didn't you guys tell me?"

The guy with the shoes: "We just started, right now, when she handed me this coffee. You're the first person we told."

I laugh at him and smile at Ashley. She's laughing too and says, "Oh, I feel so honored."

The moment breaks. He moves from the wall to stand next to me with his coffee. Our other classmates show up and Dr. P turns up and class continues as per usual, only with me, hiding my blush.

Love ya lots,

Sarah

P.S. He called my writing beautiful again today. He said it read like it was a published book or short story. And that it reminded him of proses poetry. *blush* 

Wednesday, March 28, 2012 12:25 am

Dear Beckett,

I find it very entertaining that he was watching a YouTube video about polar bears in Biology. Don't worry, I won't give you away... Unless he's randomly reading my blog which would be horribly embarrassing... Oh dear, no, I don't even want to think about it.*blush*

Soooo, anywayyyyy, I texted him today because you see, I promised him extra comments on his story (mostly because I'm a lazy bum and didn't give him proper comments to begin with) and I still have yet to give them to him. It was Friday when I promised and as it is already Tuesday, I felt bad. You know how good I am at putting things off...

My text message went something like this, "So... Thursday. I will have comments to you by Thursday (I'm telling you this so that I get it done) If it's not done by then, I owe you coffee xD" To which he responded: "Bahahahaha Alright Sarah Thanks!" 

So... I should totally not get those comments done by Thursday so I have to take him to coffee, right? *cackle* But I wouldn't be brave enough to scheme like that anyway, even if I am supposed to be an evil overlord... (I should really work on this evil thing...)

Anyway, I'm happy to report that I have run into him some more on campus lately and he always says "Hey, Sarah!" (I think that's a good sign, right? I mean, at least he knows my name...) I'm always mostly flustered and I manage a Hey! back. I hope he hears the enthusiasm. But sometimes, well really only the other day, he'll ask me how I am (and I can't help it, Beckett!) The standard response of "good" always falls out of my lips. How boring is that? Not to mention I am not always good. That's just something people tell strangers. How am I supposed to be his friend if all I every say is "Hey!" and "Good" ? (<---- That's bothering me... Is that even grammatically correct? Where do the quotes go?? I'm such a horrible English major sometimes. Is it crisises or crises? Oh Hell.)

The guy with the shoes (that's what I've taken to calling him to Jess. Well that and it's perfect because every guy has shoes...) is totally an insomniac. Okay well maybe he's not... But I have some strong evidence that he at least procrastinates on his homework or something because he's always so tired! One day as I was getting to class too early, I found him sprawled out in the hallway attempting to sleep with his backpack as a pillow. Seriously. (Is it okay to worry about a guy who isn't technically quite your friend not getting enough sleep?)

And a different day he said something like, "Guys, I'm dying..." *cue collapsing on his desk in a dramatic fashion* And we were all, "Umm?" And he was like (Notice how much of a valley girl I turn into when I'm typing conversations? Like, Like, Like, duhhh. Ewww.) "I didn't get any sleep last night. I tried to to go to bed early, but I just couldn't sleep." (Or something like that, I can't record conversations in my head very well, okay? Okay.)

Anyway, I'm totally crushing and it's hopeless. I'm hopeless. Besides, he's just too freaking awesome for me. But I can admire him from afar, right? Unless I get that coffee...

Love you lots,

Sarah

P.S. Does he look sleepy in his other classes? Does he need that coffee? Because you know that changes things completely. If he needs it then I can't not do it, right? *wink*

P.P.S. You know, if life was a book, we'd totes fall in love. Just saying. *shrug*

Tuesday, Feburary 21, 2012 12:27 am

Dear Becca,

Two words. Suede shoes.

You know, most girls notice a guy's eyes or hair or smile, but I'm so bloody shy. So the first things I notice? The guy's shoes. (What kind of shoes does Darren Criss wear? They must be really cool.) You know speaking of Darren Criss, I'm probably just crushing on the idea of SS (Suede Shoes--new nickname). I mean, sure, sometimes I get to class 15 minutes early just because I know for a few minutes we'll be the only ones there. But even then we only exchange "Good morning"'s and I comment on his cool stumbleupon photo. (Isn't that hilarious? He uses Stumbleupon.) But only to "make his computer cool." (He used the photo for his computer background. And for the record, I was not creepily watching him from a distance! I was sitting next to him on the floor and his screen was in full view.)

I don't think guys should be allowed to call a girl's writing beautiful; it has adverse effects. Honestly, cute guy + praise for my writing = Daydreams. And daydreams? Those aren't good for a girl's attention span!

He gave my paper back to me today. Becca, it's completely not fair that I have my first class of the day with him. I mean, there I was, almost comatose, and he was all "Hey!" (Cue my staring at the floor in a zombie stupor.) "Hey!" As I slowly blink and think, Huh? Why isn't anyone answering that guy? It's too early for such blatant yelling! "Hey!" (You know, actually come to think of it? He could have gotten my attention sooner if he had actually used my name... Well? Maybe not...) And I finally realized that Hey! = me and there was a paper being thrust at me and he was almost falling out of his seat in an attempt to maintain the paper's hovering status.

And my hand moves with all the force of a great typhoon (not.) to grab it and then he says, "My roommate wanted to read it too. He added his own comments." (And this makes me think... Did he tell his roommate that it was an epic story? Did he like it so much that he decided to SHARE it with someone? MY WRITING? Little old me? What universe is this? Am I dreaming? Did the fates sleep through their alarm clocks this morning? What is going on?!!) 

Meanwhile, the outside me is giving him a very Tohru-esque smile (the main character in fruits basket who is always smiling like this : D) which I'm sure looks absolutely ridiculous and I say, "Oh..." And I blink owlishly at him, multiple times before I finish with a not-so-brilliant, "That's like twice the criticism. Thanks!"

... I know, Becca. I know. Of all the cool, sophisticated things I could have said, that was what spilled out of my mouth. Isn't that as pleasant as a seven am wake up call?

I can't believe this started with shoes. Shoes, Becca! (If I judge people by their shoes, maybe I shouldn't be wearing these battered tennis shoes...) What does it take to catch this girl's notice? Only a pair of interesting shoes...

Oh Becca, how does this happen?

Anyway, this letter is supposed to be for your birthday. Happy Birthday, Becca!

"In dreams begins responsibility." -- William Butler Yeats

Maybe we're both farther into this responsible, mature adult thing than we think? We're going to make it, Becca. We're going to be SO AWESOME that no one's going to know what to do with us. Well, I'm dedicating this blog to you. And to suede shoes. And to uncertain futures. I hope you have the happiest birthday imaginable. May all your wishes come true. And hey, you don't have to know everything all at once. It'll work out in the end. It always does.

Love you bunches,

Sarah