hi there :)
my name is cate, otherwise known as seeyalatercater.
i have too many hobbies. i always have, ever since i was small.
and, now at 23, i’ve finally decided that i don’t have to pick just one. so welcome to my creative space, where i share everything that makes me me. stories & blogs, book and film reviews, drawings, song lyrics, and anything else my heart desires can all be found here, in my little corner of the internet.
i’ve always thought you could learn the most about a person by knowing what they like. so. here ya go.
some of my 5 star books: the book thief, crying in h mart, girl interrupted, the snow child, normal people, golden son, educated, a court of wings and ruin
some of my 5 star musicians: fleetwood mac, noah kahan, lord huron, novo amor, the everly brothers, the beaches, maneskin, james taylor, olivia dean, phoebe bridgers
some of my 5 star artists: vincent van gogh (duh), pierre auguste renoir, edgar degas, carla fuentes fuertes, alphonse mucha, mary cassatt, keith haring
some of my 5 stars things: my family, friends & dog, red nail polish, almond croissants, huge oak trees, leather boots, girls nights, diet coke, committing to the bit, black dresses, quietness of snow, history documentaries
thank you for stopping by for a second or a day. i’m happy you’re here. <3
i’m a girl, who like everyone else, is haunted by sylvia plath’s fig tree analogy
this is me!
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”