Ever since the start of Singular Spectrum two weeks ago, I’ve largely neglected The Author’s Apprentice. Part of that is because I’m so busy, but another very important part of it is because I wanted to see how site traffic would change. The results are interesting but not unexpected: traffic hasn’t slowed down a bit, because almost all of my hits come from Google searchers stumbling upon my MLP:FiM-related posts. Naturally, that means that not very many people have been coming around to read new updates, so I think it’s time to transition completely over to Singular Spectrum and officially close the book on The Author’s Apprentice. If you still follow the action here and are reading this, I’d strongly, strongly encourage you to subscribe to Singular Spectrum, my new project with my friends Adam Swensen and Adam Beckmeyer. It’s more organized, more varied, and altogether a lot of fun, I really think you’ll like it! Thanks for a really fun three years here on my first ever blog, you regular readers are what kept me going and brought me to where I am today, ready to move on to bigger and better things. This is officially the last-ever post on The Author’s Apprentice, so since I’ve always wanted to say it, I will: You’ve been great, thank you, and goodnight!
Tag Archives: goodbye
There are a lot of words that I could say here at the end of the summer, but in the end, none of them will suffice. This summer was simply indescribable, and now that it’s over I find that there is only one thing left that I want to say. So to all of you who made this summer such an unmitigated joy:
I love you.
I’ll see you again soon.
God bless you, my friends, and may you have many more amazing adventures as time marches on. I hope I can be a part of them again soon. Until then, farewell. No, I mean it: fare well. You deserve it.
It’s been three months since I first watched an episode of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, but I still remember that day clearly. A chain reaction started on that unassuming Saturday afternoon, one that has created more laughs, smiles, and fond memories than I ever expected, and it’s all because you fell in love with an idea and dedicated yourself to making it a reality. Today, as I watched the season finale, I thought back on all of those memories and realized that without you, none of them would have even been possible, and I knew that I had to thank you somehow. That’s why I wrote this letter: to let you in on a few of the best memories I’ve made thanks to your ponies, and to let you know how grateful I am for your part in making them.
So thank you. Thank you for essentially introducing me to one of my best friends, Tek, whom I met through the comments section of my first pony-related post way back in February. Thank you for the smile that I wore as I drew a picture of Pinkie Pie to send to my fifteen-year-old sister, whose cheerful spirit reminds me a lot of everyone’s favorite party pony, and thank you for the even bigger smile that I got when she wrote me back saying “I decided I’m officially Pinkie Pie! Speaking of ponies, would you draw me a picture of Fluttershy? Please?”. Thank you for the chance to watch the show with her and my sixteen-year-old brother, and for all the fun we’ve had quoting it back and forth to each other since. Thank you for the unexpected fun of watching one of my college friends succumb to the charm of the ponies, and for how it’s given us a great excuse to hang out every Thursday afternoon to watch a few episodes and chat. Thanks, too, for the great laugh I got when a friend who posted “What’s up with the ponies?” on my Facebook wall in early April posted “I want a pet alligator named Gummy” just a few weeks later.
Perhaps most of all, however, I thank you for giving thousands and thousands of other people all around the world the same kind of lasting memories that you’ve given me. You’ve really done something wonderful, Lauren, something that’s touched people from every walk of life, and there’s no way that all of us could say a thank you big enough or sincere enough to express our gratitude. Still, we had to try, so I opened up my email to the bronies of Ponychan, PonyGAF, and Equestria Daily, people who also owe a lot of great memories to you, to send you their own letters of gratitude for all that you have done. You can find their letters below, letters with stories of love found, hope restored, and lives changed. I know there are a lot of them and that you’re a very busy woman, but I hope that you’ll take the time to scroll through, read some of these letters, see what your work has meant to all of us, and take pride in what you’ve accomplished. You deserve it.
“Mandatory floor meeting” is a phrase that doesn’t often bring to mind fond memories of good times and cherished moments, so I wasn’t really expecting much more than a laundry list of checkout procedures from R.A. Jake when I sat down in the lounge for the floor meeting tonight. After he finished reading off all of the pertinent paperwork information, however, Jake did something that I didn’t expect. He asked everyone who wasn’t coming back to school the next semester to raise their hands. Our resident senior, Andrew, raised his, as did our soon-to-be-married man Phil, and I followed suit. Jake handed us each a gift (I got a stuffed dog, a cap gun, and a Hot Wheels ’73 Falcon – yeah, these guys know me pretty well), then had us stand up on the coffee table, fondly referred to as “the altar” so that some of the other men of the floor could pray over each of us. My amazing roommate Dan prayed for me, and as I stood there with the others on the altar, surrounded by the loving arms of my brothers and listening to Dan lift me up before the Lord, it began to sink in for me how much I’m going to miss this place, these people, when I leave. I’ve only been here for a year and the men of Culby 12 already feel like another family to me, and even though I’ll be glad to return to my brothers and sisters and parents and friends at home, it’s still going to hurt to say goodbye to Moody and to Culby 12. This year has been one of the most difficult, interesting, inspiring, eye-opening, exciting, wonderful years of my life, and I owe so much of that to these guys, my floormates and my friends. Thanks for opening your lives to this freshman and making my first year at school such an amazing experience, Culby 12. I’ll miss you, and I hope I can come back soon.