So I discovered this game called Minecraft.

It's like Legos, but better.  And I know what you're thinking - "Legos are already awesome, how could they get better?!"

With monsters and lava, that's how.

 I mean, look at it! And sure, it might be a world composed solely of 8-bit squares, but it's brilliant! It's easy and you can basically build whatever you want to.

MINECRAFT ENTERPRISE

MINECRAFT CASTLE

LOOK AT IT. LOOK AT IT.

So.
Yeah.
Minecraft.

I think I am going to murder myself via my music choices.

I have been taking piano lessons since I was about twelve, so it's been, what? Eight years on the piano?  I really like to play, too, I wasn't one of those kids whose parents forced them to participate in activities.  I chose to keep up with my lessons in college, believing that if I didn't have someone behind me the whole time telling me to practice I would probably only practice about once a month (which is sadly true).  As much as I enjoy playing it, I just can't seem to practice often enough.

Over the past year and a bit, I decided to play songs by composers that I have admired since I started the piano, the major one being Chopin, but this year we have moved to Grieg.  I am supposed to learn three pieces a semester, and this time around all of them are by our dear Edvard.

I got a book of his Lyric Pieces and I was glancing through it to see which pieces I wanted to learn.  I hadn't heard of many of them, so I was playing little bits of them on the keyboard, just messing around really, when I landed on the Elfin Dance.

I really like it, I do, and I decided I wanted to play it. I am not very good at playing fast songs, but I decided, just this once, to try and improve myself.

Then I saw his Scherzo.  It has a lovely triplet-over-straight eighths rhythm which I am particularly fond of, and when I sounded it out I decided it was going to be my second piece.  Then, I looked it up on YouTube.

And it says, very blatantly at the top, that it is supposed to be played hella fast. Which I somehow missed on my first read-through. But the middle is nice and sweet, and I decided not to back down from the challenge.

Just this Thursday I got my third piece, which my instructor picked out for me, his Arietta, a nice, slow song.

So, yeah. It will be a challenging semester, if nothing else.

I haven't posted in two months, and I apologize.

I want to put some of the blame on planning for school and meeting up with old high school friends and then packing and moving, but that's not entirely the case.  My summer was just, well...boring, after a bit.  The highlight of the break being the time I went to Holiday World (the amusement park) twice in the same week.

That is the Voyage. It is the world's tallest wooden roller coaster. It occasionally hurts so much to ride it you feel like you need a safe word. The place is awesome, is what I'm trying to get across.

But after that, it was Netflix B-movie marathons and the occasional get together. Nothing terribly exciting.  I moved back to Bloomington about a month ago or so, and all has been well.  Classes are going fine, my friends are fine, my BRAND-SPANKING NEW APARTMENT is fine.
And, as a side note, this is what my room looks like:

I couldn't give up the books.

Wonderful keyboard via lovely friend, Tony.

That's Classic Batman, Sherlock Holmes, and Doctor Who all on the same door. I am an accomplished nerd.

The only real thing to note is that I am joining a Calligraphy club, so expect wonderful Christmas Cards.

Hopefully going to blog more often,
And wonderfully yours,

Caitlyn.

I did a thing.

I took a painting, one someone had dumped in the trash no less:

And I was looking at it, very closely, and I decided I wanted to improve it. And by 'improve' I mean 'give it tentacles.'

This is its story.

Knife-wielding octopus centaur. Oh yes.

And, if you want some really good paintings-in-paintings, look into this guy. It's just really great, people.

Everyone should know how to cook.

Because, I mean, food is nice. It's delicious, if you can make it right.  And everyone should learn to make it right.

My mother taught me how to cook, and she taught me how to be resourceful with my supplies.  I can make a delicious meal without a recipe or with a great recipe and half of the ingredients, which is really helpful now that I'm in college.

If you didn't know, the stores in the dorms have a very limited choice of foods, and most of those are microwave meals.  Which are fine, don't get me wrong, but if you can figure out how to make homemade microwave brownies, that's a lot better.

I can't make microwave brownies, but I can make this:

Not really homemade but tasty

And I could manage to make most of it in a microwave.  I like cooking, and I like being resourceful. And I like food. Tasty, tasty food.

Harry Potter murdered my childhood like Voldemort murders muggles.

I just...Give me a moment...

I grew up with Harry Potter. It was one of the first actual books I ever read, one of the first movies I remember seeing, the first fandom I was a part of even before I knew what a fandom was.
  
I've bought all the books. I've got posters. Pictures. Wands. Scarves. Banners. Toys. I've dressed up, laughed, cried.  I'm pretty sure Harry Potter is the one who taught me how to feel emotions.

And now it's over? Just over?  No slow ease into it, no courtesy! Like getting to Hogwarts and having Dumbledore tell you he meant to send your letter to your neighbor that you hate.

Harry Potter is my childhood. It consumed me. It still does, don't get me wrong, but a body starves when given no nourishment. A Potter fan loses some magic when Harry grows up. In order to thrive we have to give the books to our cousins, our nieces and nephews, our children, and we have to hope that they love it like we do.  We have to hope that they get that little spark of magic, that they grow so attached we can get away with dressing them up like a Weasley for Halloween.

I'm not going to say anything about the movie, just that it was spectacular. That it was brilliant, and beautiful, and... *sob* ... magnificent.

I thought I felt bad when Toy Story 3 came out, and this eclipsed it by a thousand fold.

I mean really, what do we have now? Twilight? That's the next big epic, children. Sparkly vampires and pedophile werewolves. Great.

Now I have to cling to Sherlock Holmes as hard as I can and hope then make seven more of those, or hope J.K. Rowling decides to just write about Harry Potter for the rest of her life.

Oh! And Pottermore. We have Pottermore. And hopefully Monsters Inc. 2 will be good.

But I have to stop rambling now. It's making me feel worse.

Mischief Managed.

 

The most adorable post I may ever make.

For the past two weeks I've been almost constantly at my friend Emily's house. Partly because she has instant Netflix, so we sit and watch horrible horror movies or Doctor Who for hours.  And partly because she has a new puppy.

The dog, Sophie, may or may not be the next regeneration of the Doctor. Which means if she meets my dog, it might be a little messy.

I like Emily's house.  She lives in the middle of town, whereas I live in the middle of nowhere, and it's hard to make fun of movies like The Beast Within (which you should check out, by the way) when you're the only one suffering through it.

And, for a while, we partied like rock stars.
  
And by rock stars I mean nerds. Whatever.