The Death of Hamlet (and why I cared)

Whether or not you like Shakespeare, you have to admit that he wrote some great lines. Gems like;

“To be, or not to be: that is the question.”

“Frailty, thy name is woman!”

“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”

“To die, to sleep – To sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come… ”

“Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.”

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

Lines that all happen to come from Hamlet. That terribly morose play that I have fallen head over heels with. I don’t pretend to understand every word that was said, but the words I did understand I listened to with bated breath. At least, until Little Miss Ophelia opened her mouth. (get some brains woman!)

At first look, the play seems awful. All about a man who loses his father, and is trying to exact revenge upon his uncle (reverse Star Wars anyone?). There is death, madness, false friends, and lots and lots of self pity. Usually, I stay away from such melodrama. But hey, it was Shakespeare, and why not?

From the first word I was hooked. My eyes never strayed from the screen where the tale unfolded. You couldn’t have pulled me away with a team of horses until the final word was uttered and the curtain fell.

I had to ask myself, why would such a dark tale enthrall me so much? Why would I find my thoughts drifting back to the story again and again the next day?

The plot was not what drew me to the play. It was not so twisty that I couldn’t figure out what was happening next. (I also knew the end before I watched it *cough*) The characters around Hamlet varied from mostly interesting to groan worthy. It wasn’t their witty banter that kept me glued to my chair. It was the main character, Hamlet.

His struggle to bring about revenge on his father would not have been that interesting if he had not been such a compelling person. Hamlet was a hurting mess who procrastinated, blamed himself, wallowed in self pity, fell in love, and tried to do right by his father. He loved deeply and hated with all of his being.

Stripped away of all the wit, the ghosts, and the madness. Hamlet is a story of a young man whose father has died. A man he looked up to and adored with all of his being. Hamlet is hurting, and he cannot understand why the rest of the world is able to blithely go on like his father never existed.

Then he finds out that his father was taken away from him on purpose. Someone chose to do away with his father in order to advance their own ends. Much of the play is him asking why. Why on earth would anyone choose to do away with someone so wonderful?

You follow Hamlet through his inner struggles as tries to find a way to proceed. As he rages against those who did this to his father, yet feels helpless to do anything about it. Those struggles make him so real and raw that I could not help but be on his side. Whether I agree with revenge or not, I know what it is like to wonder why a loved one is so suddenly gone.

At his core, Hamlet is a person who wants answers to the hard questions. Why did his father die and his uncle live on? Why do we love one person and not another? How can the world forget a person so good so quickly? Why are men so afraid of death?

This vulnerability in a character is what drew me into the play and swept me through the good and bad of it. By the time the end of the tale had come and (spoiler alert) Hamlets death was near, I was rooting for him. Hoping that he would succeed in the goal he had worked so hard to grasp. He had lost everything in the pursuit of this one all encompassing thing.

By the end of the play, he truly had lost everything, including his own life. But he had completed his quest, and went to his final rest knowing that he had been a son worthy of his father. And that was all he had really wanted anyway.

Nope, I am not going to cry. I refuse.

I know this kind of play is not everyone’s cup of tea, so I won’t end with an entreaty that you go watch it right now. Instead, I will end with a bit from one of Hamlets monologues.

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’ oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despis’d love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th’ unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death-
The undiscover’d country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns- puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?

Shaina Merrick

Life is Short, Time is Valuable, and There are too Many Books!

No, I am not freaking out. Why do you ask? I am definitely not wondering how on earth I am ever going to read all the books I want to read. I wonder if I will ever get to the bottom of my tbr list?

Whoops, I wondered. Now I am freaking out.

Raise of hands, is anyone else ever overwhelmed with the sheer amount of books that are out there? Even if you somehow read all the ones in the bookstores, there are more being published every year. With self publishing so easy now, the number of books put out on the market year after year is astronomical. There is no hope of ever catching up.

And if you happen to have a life outside of reading books. You know, normal things like having friends, a job, a family…. Your case is even more hopeless. There is no way that you will ever be able to read all the books that look so vastly interesting.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to made you feel overwhelmed.

I am not here to give you hope that with the right attitude and schedule you will be able to read them all. Instead, I am here to tell you that you can’t. And contrary to popular belief, that’s just fine. In fact, it may be a good thing.

I think all bookworms can agree that for every good book on the bookstore shelf, there are ten bad ones. Books that just aren’t worth the time or money it takes to read them.

Since I grew up, I have had less and less free time to dedicate to just reading. I have to be pickier about my books, because I just can’t read all of them. Or even as many as I used to. So I read the blurb, the reviews, and the first page before I decide that it worth my time.

If something makes me say ‘I dunno about this’, I put it back on the shelf for someone else to find.

It may seem unnecessarily choosy to you, but for me, I have to. There have been times that I have picked up a book on a whim, or because I liked the cover. But it doesn’t happen very often.

I have learned that it is okay. It is acceptable to be picky about the books you fill your time with.

My life is short, and I want it to be filled with good things.

So go ahead, be picky! Read the reviews, the blurbs, the bit in the back about the author. Don’t be afraid to say no. If everyone else likes it, and it isn’t your style. Oh well. There are other books out there.

This is not to say that you should find a genre and never stir from it. Try new genres and new styles! Find new authors, go explore the ever growing indie market. You may find your next favorite book.

What I am saying is that I no longer want to feel like I wasted my afternoon on a book. So I will take my time finding a book. I am not going to pick up a book just because it is popular, or because the cover is pretty.

Instead, I ask myself, is this book worth my limited, precious time? I am a writer, so I will most likely read more books than average person. But even as a writer I have other things that fill my days. So is this book worth the bit of time that I have to dedicate to it? If I don’t think it is, it goes back on the library shelf.

Saying that I don’t want to read a book does not necessarily mean that the book isn’t worth any ones time. Someone else may click with it and love it. All it means is that I chose to fill my time with a different book. One that I love, one that inspires me.

To finish with one of my favorite quotes;

“Life is too short for reading inferior books.” -James Bryce

Shaina Merrick

Be Brave My Friend

My dear friend. I read your story the other day. You know, the one you hesitantly posted on your blog? Trust me, I know how hard that was. The courage it took to show it to some one besides your family.

I thought it was wonderful. Thank you for sharing that bit of yourself with me. Whether that story was complete rubbish in your eyes, or the gem of your collection, it doesn’t matter.

I have never read a story quite like it before. I’m so glad I met your characters. I laughed out loud when they bumped into each other! The witty side comments in your characters head were so funny.

I know that right now you are rolling your eyes. Wondering if what I am saying is really true. You think that your story isn’t that good.

Maybe, maybe not. The important thing is that you shared it. That you worked to make something beautiful. I know you will write better stories than this one. For you will continue to grow. You may even write worse stories than this one. What I want to know is if you will be sharing anymore of them.

Please don’t be concerned with the one bad review. Even famous authors have bad reviews. Anyway, what does that person know about how hard it is to write a story? I doubt that they realize how incredibly brave it is to let other people read your story.

Just by reading the first couple of lines I could tell that you poured yourself into the story. A part of your heart spilled onto the words.

Do you know how brave it is that you shared a part of yourself with your readers? Typos and mistakes can’t change that. They don’t make your story any less valuable.

Please keep sharing your stories. Be brave. Let your story go out into the world. It may fall, but it also might touch someone. Don’t hold your words to yourself just because you are afraid that no one wants to read them.

I do. I want to read them. And I know others do to. Give your stories wings, and see what happens.

I look forward to reading your next story.

Shaina Merrick

Contests and Themes

So, I decided to enter another writing contest. ‘Cause the last one went oh so well…. But hey, it is a short story contest this time, and I already had the story written. So maybe I have a shot? Or maybe I am just suffering from delusions of grandeur. But I have yet to decide whether delusions of grandeur or crippling self doubt is worse. So we’ll stick with the former for a while.

Except, I was already stuck. Typical me. I have a plot, characters, and setting. But no theme. No one thing that everything else in the story depends upon. Usually, I would just shrug and perfect the parts that I have down. It is a retelling of a fairy tale after all. How much theme does it actually need?

The right answer is gobs more by the way. It needs a solid theme that drives the story forward. And in this contest, having that solid theme is the difference between first place and being on the cutting room floor.

So here I go, wracking my brain to find a theme in my little story. Note to the wise, it is easier to write a story with the theme already mapped out than to find one in an already completed story.

Also, I don’t want the theme to be just any theme. I want it to be true to the story. I want it to feel as if the story is showing the theme, not that the theme was thrust upon it by an uncaring and unwitting author.

So after wracking my brain for a solid week, I think I found one.

Hope. More specifically, the importance of having hope.

You see, my story is a retelling of Beauty and the Beast. With one important difference. Beast is the villain, and Belle is a captive to a faeries caprice. Not exactly a light read.

In the beginning of the story, Belle has given up hope of escaping. To the point that all she wants is to survive each day. Though the idea of a final escape is becoming more and more palatable.

I knew that before I even thought about what theme I had. I also knew that in the end she hopes that Gaston has actually managed to save her. (another twist!)

Those two key parts were what unlocked my story’s theme for me. All I had to have to do now is enhance what is already there. Take the hints I have and flesh them out into a living, breathing story.

Easier said that done. Obviously. But the hardest part is over, the finding of the slippery little thing.

If you happen to be in the same boat as me, trying to find a theme in a story that is already finished, here is my advice.

Take stock of who your character is in the beginning of the story and where they are in their personal journey, then do the same with them at the end of your story. What has changed? And why did it change?

Where your character has changed is where your theme lies. Maybe your character learned to trust someone else. Maybe they conquered some fears. Take that and expand upon it, make that change become a journey that weaves in and out of everything else in your story. And voila, your have a rock solid theme.

Now take that story and enter the Story Embers contest! And don’t bother looking for me, my story will most likely be in the category of a procrastinated master piece that was forgotten to be entered. Whoops.

Shaina Merrick

Book Review: Belinda

I think Goodreads is about to despair of me. I forget to add books that I am reading. So I am often playing catch up. Or there will be books that I have been reading for a better part of the month until I finally get around to either actually finished it. Or telling Goodreads that I am finished with it. Such was the case of Belinda.

It took me the better part of a month to read this book. Partly because the print was extremely tiny. (tiny print is a ploy to get busy people to think freakishly long books are small, and so pick them up. They only realize their fatal mistake when it is too late to go back.) Partly because there were so. Many. Conversations. You may think that dialogue is easy to read. Not if the dialogue needs to be carefully followed to be understood!

Anyway. Enough complaining. I got through it, and am here to explain to you why I marched on through the tiny print.

The lively comedy of this novel (only if you get all the jokes! Regency wit is something else!) in which a young woman comes of age amid the distractions and temptations of London high society belies the challenges it poses to the conventions of courtship, the dependence of women, and the limitations of domesticity. (I’m really not sure where they got the ‘limitations’ idea. The married ladies do more than the single people do!) Contending with the perils and the varied cast of characters of the marriage market, Belinda strides resolutely toward independence. (Independence of heart mostly. Her fortune is only just big enough for her to be truly independent) Admired by her contemporary, Jane Austen, and later by Thackeray and Turgenev, Edgeworth tackles issues of gender and race in a manner at once comic and thought-provoking. (True, I enjoyed this aspect of the novel.) The 1802 text used in this edition also confronts the difficult and fascinating issues of racism and mixed marriage, which Edgeworth toned down in later editions. (All novelists eventually succumb to public opinion. Unless they are brave warriors willing to be social outcasts.)

Interested yet? I will admit. It is not a great synopsis. It says nothing about the love triangle, or quack doctors, or even my favorite character. But then again, most synopsis for classics are terrible. They either say too much or too little. The person in charge of writing them should be soundly scolded.

But back to Belinda! The main character of this charming novel is who it is named after. Belinda is our heroine trying to make sense of London society. She is guided through it by Lady Delacour. Though guided may be too strong a word for it. We will get to the particulars of that in a moment.

Belinda has been taught by her Aunt Stanhope to look for the richest husband possible. And then catch him by any means possible. Mrs. Stanhope is a renowned matchmaker, and all men are in terror of being caught by one of her nieces. Quite the barrier to poor Belinda, who has never quite bought into what her aunt has said, but is still suffering the consequences of her aunts bad matches. She soon realizes that if she wants to be respected, not just liked, she must ignore all of her aunts advice and find her own way. Good luck dear, for the example you have before you is a bad one.

It is soon after Belinda has a break with her aunt that she realizes that Lady Delacour is not the best person to model her behavior after. Good job for realizing that a flirt is not a good person to emulate. How many pages did it take for you to realize that?

But at the same time, she learns Lady Delacours secret. A secret she has hidden from everyone except for her servant, and now Belinda. Lady Delacour is dying, and instead of seeking medical help. She is determined to live as fast as she can before her time runs out. In case you were wondering, it doesn’t work too well. It only leads to pain and misery as the novel clearly shows.

But where, you may be wondering, is the love story I was promised? Well, about that….

Yes, Belinda is a love story. A very slow moving love story full of side tracks, miscommunications, and a comedy of errors. Yet the book is more about the friendship between her and Lady Delacour.

Lady Delacour is the force that moves the novel. While Belinda is more of a passive heroine. Content to let things happen around her until she must act. Lady Delacour on the other hand, is one of the main movers and shakers of the novel. She is the one who intrigues to get her two favorite people together. It is through her that the last mystery is solved and everyone can live happily ever after.

Yet before you think Belinda is boring and never does anything. Let me ease your mind. Belinda is the one who reforms Lady Delacour. Through her steady friendship she convinces Lady Delacour that there are better things to live for. That perhaps she has not wasted her entire life. Belinda is the one who reconciles the Lady to her daughter, and later to her husband. Feats that seemed impossible at the beginning of the novel.

It is Belinda and Lady Delacours friendship that moves and shapes that entire novel.

But have no fear! There is a love story, and it does have a happy ending. Contrary to all popular belief. (popular being me, myself, and I. I haven’t found anyone who has read it yet)

What I really like about this love story is that the hero is no Mr. Darcy. Unless you can imagine Mr. Darcy with enough flaws for a long list, a tendency to do before he thought, and being an extrovert. No? Then let me introduce you to Mr. Clarence Hervey. The young man who at the beginning of the novel has some bad friends, and thinks he is the most amazing person ever. Not quite marriageable material yet.

Thankfully, he grows up. Which includes ditching his bad friends and finding new ones. It also includes falling in love with the right girl. Instead of a silly one. (dude, you had bad taste)

It can sound odd that I liked this hero so much, even with his flaws. But you see, I liked him because of his flaws. He was interesting because he wasn’t perfect. I was more apt to like him and root for him because he was struggling uphill to make the right choices. Sometimes he failed, but that only made me root for him harder. Ready to see him get back up and try again.

So by the time Mr. Hervey and Belinda finally got together, it wasn’t an inevitable conclusion. It was a sigh a relief and a smile to see two characters I liked triumphing over adversity.

So if you are going to read it or any reason, read it for the characters. Read it for the complicated, multifacted relationships the characters have with each other. Most of all, read it for Lady Delacour. She is hilarious.

That, was a ridiculously long review. By this point you are either sick of the entire book or itching to read it. (sorrynotsorry) Let me know if you do end up reading it though. Quick tip, keep Google handy while you read it. There are a couple things that even the footnotes don’t explain. (like what on earth an E O table is….)

Anyway. Happy reading!

Shaina Merrick

My Beautiful Story

This last weekend was graduation weekend! Friends from college and from high school all graduated, and celebrated their graduation, in the same weekend. Guys. Spread it out a little!

Anyway. Graduations mean that we are celebrating the graduate and what they have done. Surviving school and finals for example. Often when I go to a graduation I come away feeling a little depressed.

These highschoolers have done so much with their four years. They traveled, wrote books, competed in sports events, won medals. The list goes on! And what have I done in my last four years? Survived? Made a friend or two? Sigh.

Yet this year, I didn’t think that way. I looked at each of the new graduates, and was able to say that what they did was awesome. And so is what I have done.

It is possible to say that each of our stories are wonderful, beautiful even. It is possible to say that what these highschoolers have done is amazing. As well as be proud of what I have done as well.

Man, I wish I had learned that earlier!

Wish that I had realized that my story is beautiful. I love how my story has played out. No, it hasn’t all been peaches and cream. But I love it all the same.

The things I have done, the things I have learned. I wouldn’t replace any of it. Not for the most exciting life you can think of.

Shaina Merrick

A Light for the Dark

This is a poem I wrote a while back. I wrote it with the light of Christ in mind. It shows how deep I can get in my own despair and self pity. Despair that can take on a life of its own. But even at my darkest, Christ is still there. He shines His light through the deepest pain. I may think that He has left me to my fate, but His love is far greater than that. He promises to never leave me. And He never breaks His promises.

Darkness covers

me, its cloak

smothers all words,

all thoughts. Where

am I and where

did light go?

The darkness claws

into my

throat I can’t breath.

It fills my

eyes and ears I

scream but no

one can hear me.

I am here

in the darkness.

The dark is

lonely. Only

these tears keep

me company.

A whisper

stirs the darkness.

A whisper

so still it can

only be

heard in the dark.

A voice breathes

something long forgot

into me.

This dark is not

complete once

a light shone. It

left me here.

Or did I leave

it behind?

Now I want it.

I long for

a light that can’t

be snuffed out.

The voice I love

speaks and I

bow my head in

the darkness.

“I’m sorry,” I

try to say.

But the dark steals

it away.

I should not have

left my light.

But at the word

of the voice

I lift my head.

Perhaps it

is not as lost

as I thought.

I lift my arm

reach my hand

through the darkness.

Please be there.

Don’t abandon

me to this.

My searching hand,

finds a light.

A light for me.

This tiny flame,

illuminates

the darkness.

I am alone

no longer.

My light pushes

back the dark.

It cannot touch

my light.

Shaina Merrick

Why Do I Write?

There are times. Lets be honest, there are many many times. When I ask myself. Why, out of all the careers and hobbies and jobs you could have chosen, did you choose being a writer? I mean come on. Writing is hard, you often don’t seem to have the time or energy to do it. When you think you don’t have any more to give, it takes even more.

And yet, I haven’t stopped. I write even when I feel like pulling my hair out of my head. I write when I am too busy. I write through the tears of frustration. Through all of it, I still write.

Sometimes I am writing epics, sometimes simple stories, sometimes heartfelt poems, sometimes blog posts. But I am still writing.

Maybe it is because I am stubborn. Because I refuse to quit. But sometimes, I have stopped. I have almost given up writing.

Yet every time I stop, I am drawn back to the words. To the stories waiting to be told.

But why? Maybe, maybe I keep writing to find that out. I write to make sense of the world. To understand why things are the way they are. As I write, I unearth answers. Or at least, that is what I am hoping. Answers are hard to find.

On paper I am putting down my wonderings of why people cry, why some people fall in love and others don’t. I wonder about grief, I wonder about joy. For me, writing is the process of asking questions and finding out the answers.

I could no more stop writing than I could stop asking questions. So why do I keep going with this year after year? To ask questions, and perhaps to find the answers as well.

Shaina Merrick

And I Return/Sad Stories?

Did you miss me? Whether or not you did is immaterial. The point is that I am back from my short and unannounced hiatus. So unannounced in fact that even I wasn’t aware that it was going to happen, until it happened. *cough* No no, this is not procrastination at its finest. This is me spontaneously deciding to take a break.

Right.

Anyway. We will now return to the regularly scheduled, once a week posts that are talking about something other than my collection of short stories. I, for one, am relived.

So, the other day I was wandering around Barnes and Noble. Because I am the type of person to do such a thing. And as I was wandering around and reading the backs of various books that caught my eye, I began to realize something. Slowly, like the sun dawning over the mountain. Yet it wasn’t the bright light of an epiphany. It was like a cloud stealing over an otherwise beautiful moon rise.

The books that have been coming out recently are dark. In the YA section alone there are books about drugs, suicide, death, breakups (lots and lots of break ups), and terrible families. Not all of the books promise a happy ending. Some of them promise that the characters will die in the end. And this is only the YA section. I can only imagine what the adult section holds. More of all the above?

Even just reading the blurbs of all these books was making me feel depressed. And not just because the content was depressing. I was sad because this is what people are reading.

Even more, people are willing to spend hours, days, weeks, months of their lives writing these books. Which means that they lived and breathed that story in all its sadness.

Why would anyone choose to put that upon themselves?

There is no quick answer to this. You see, we read books for two reasons. To escape our world, and to learn something more about our world.

For most people, escapism is no longer enough. We want to understand why things are the way they are. We can’t be fooled by the Disney endings anymore. People die from cancer, from car accidents, from war. The people who are supposed to get together don’t always find each other. True love doesn’t always win.

And we want to know why.

So we turn to books that attempt to give the answers. The books that don’t pull punches, the ones that don’t pretend it is all right. Because it isn’t. Things in this world are obviously not right.

I agree. I don’t want to be lied to. Don’t tell me that it will all work out when it may not.

Yet. Where does that leave me? More knowledge perhaps, maybe some answers. But knowledge means nothing when life still hurts. When hope is gone.

I don’t want to stop there. And I am afraid that is where we have stopped. As readers, as writers. We have stopped at the answers, stopped at the realism. When that isn’t all there is.

There is something beyond all this. There has to be. Otherwise nothing would make sense. We are all living in a world that stops at what we see. The pain, the hurt, that is all there is. Nothing else exists.

How hopeless that is! Why would I settle for an existence like that?

I refuse. I know there is more to life that what I see. There has to be.

Thank goodness there is.

There is more to life than pain and a meaningless existence. I know that I was created for a purpose. There is a reason why I am here. A reason beyond making money and then dying.

That reason is not to find my happily ever after. My One and Only. If I never got married I would still have a reason to exist. If I never got rich. If I never traveled again.

My meaning is tied up in the One who has counted every hair on my head. On the One who died on the cross for my sins. My purpose is to give the One all the thanks and all the glory I can possibly give. That purpose doesn’t change no matter where I go and what I do.

So why in the world would I write books that stop at this life? That stop at the answers. There is more to life than this. I know it. So I will write it.

As a Christian writer I will not stop at the pain. I will move on to the hope. I will not pull the punches, but I will give the answers and the hope. I will not always give happy endings, but most of the time I will. Because I believe that heaven is the perfect happy ending.

Life is hard. I know that. In my books I will strive not to give escapism, but meaning. Meaning that goes beyond what I see and feel.

Because there is more to life than this.

Shaina Merrick

Introducing Fairy Tale Central

Here I am once again interrupting your Saturday. How rude of me. But I promise that this is for a good reason! I am here to chat about a beautiful new site called….

Fairy Tale Central.

Once Upon a Time two girls had a dream. A dream of a fairy tale site, an internet library, if you will, for all the fairy tale lovers of the land to gather and converse. To learn, to read, to fangirl/boy, to bask in the goodness that is fairy tales.

As this dream blossomed, the two girls recruited a third. Because, after all, all good fairy tales come in themes of three.

With the third member in place, the girls got to work. The dream began to take shape, until it was no longer just a dream. But something real.


Introducing…

FAIRY TALE CENTRAL

This newly launched site run by Arielle Bailey, Faith White, and Christine Smith, is your source for all things fairy tales.

Every month a single fairy tale will be featured, and posts will include:

  • Reviews for retellings/shows/movies/etc.
  • Essay, origin, and discussion posts on the featured fairy tale
  • Interviews with fairy tale retelling authors
  • Galleries featuring fairy tale artists and artisans
  • And a whole lot more!

The FTC’s goal is to unlock the magic that is fairy tales and build a community of fellow fairy tale enthusiasts. Arielle, Faith, and Christine are thrilled to share this new fairy tale centric space and connect with all you epic fairy tale fans!

You can CLICK HERE to find the site and join the Fairy Ring! (Don’t worry, you won’t be enchanted or cursed.) And, if you want to connect even more, you can find the FTC on:

Do tell a friend, or a dragon, or the fairy living in the hollow tree behind your house. All humans and mythological creatures alike are welcome!

Doesn’t it look so cute?!?!? I love the idea, and trust me, the site is all sorts of fairy tale wonderfulness. Go check it out! This month the featured fairy tale is Rumpelstiltskin. I’m excited to see what retellings they find.

Enjoy the rest of your Saturday!

Shaina Merrick