If I imagine hard enough, I can almost see a slight dusting of snow on the tree branches outside. If I look quick enough, I can see the sparkle of the sun relfecting off of it and blinding me for half a second. If I light my candle for long enough, I can smell the snowfall and transport myself back to the north woods of Michigan.

If I imagine hard enough, I can be back to the stillness of winter, the wildlife tip-toeing around, the smell of smoke rising out of the chimney, and the relaxing feeling after taking the first steps outside, starting the journey to wherever the destination may lie. I can be back to the quiet and calm and peace that a winter wonderland is, instead of the harsh reality of the winter wonder-not I'm in.

If I imagine hard enough, the gas fireplace turns to wood burning, the smell permeating the blankets and chairs. The hot coco in my hand warms me up instead of just making me hot, and I devour the book I am reading in a second, because everyone knows there is nothing cozier than sitting in front of a fireplace reading as snow reigns terror on the world outside.

For a second I can hear the crunch of fresh powder underneath my boot as I mount myself onto my snowboard, instead of the harsh crush of asphalt underneath my tennis shoe. For a second, I can feel the chill of the air rush by my face as I head down the mountain instead of the brisk breeze genty rustling the leaves still on the trees. For a second, I can taste the nothingness of snow and feel melting flakes in my hair.

Only for a second.
If I imagine hard enough.



For years I have been wondering how I will measure up as the next generation in my family. How will I ever be as courageous, strong, independent, and amazing as the three women in my who have come before me? The three women who have influenced me the most, my Grandmother, Aunt, and Mother, are three of the most gutsy, intelligent and admirable women I know.

How was I ever going to compare? I never thought I would, let alone could.

Is it a bit ironic that as I was thinking about the situation I was in last night, I realized that I don't need to try to be like any of them? That the gene is already in me? I'm already exuberating the characteristics that all three have?

I proved to myself that I was strong, I was courageous, that I wasn't backing down from a icy-blue-eyed bitch and I was standing my ground?

For years I have been wondering if I was to be the one where the gene would fall short, wondering if I was where something wouldn't add up.

As it turns out, I needn't worry. Not one little bit. Everything falls into stride at some point or another, and I just have to let everything take it's course.


Great Night, Rough Morning

Hung over at work...again. How many of my posts start out like this? Too many to count?

I was texting the Aussie as I pulled into the parking lot. I had woken up early, planning on going to get some sustenance before starting what was sure to be a long, drawn out, very annoying day at the Depot, but I was so exhausted from the night before that I barely made it to work, let alone nourish myself.

Homeboy be trippin'.

As the day progressed, the hair came down from my 'hangover ponytail', makeup was put on, and I look semi-presentable now. However, the whole helping customers thing? So not happening. I spent the first half of my morning sucking down coffee (Yes, I left work to go get some), talking to my Aussie, telling Mexicans I don't speak Spanish, and hiding.

The exhaustion wore off, The Aussie went home for the day, and the headache set in. So here I sit, tylonal in my system, waiting for lunch, ready to die. I'm still avoiding the Mexicans, and my managers.
Oh, life is going to be amazing today.



It's times like right now that I wonder if I did the right thing. Not the whole picking-up-my-life-&-moving-in-a-new-direction thing, but the cutting him out of my life because I'm-so-much-better-without-a-dramatic-asshole-like-him-for-a-friend thing.

The end result? Too much thinking, a headache, and exhausted with no sleep anywhere in sight.


Not Giving Up

It was one of those days where I wanted to pack up, go back to Michigan and just give up because it was easier. I knew I wouldn't, though. That just isn't my style. A month later and I was still jobless. I had only a handful of friends, and they were all co-workers. I was attached to a boy...because I thought I could play 'the game'. Hello--who in the hell was I kidding?

One, I can't play 'the game', I hadn't since high school. Actually, that's a lie. I can play the game. I can play it really well. Especially 10 lbs lighter and with my still raven-black hair, I was the queen at it. There was one problem. I got attached. I fell hard and fast, which is what I swore I wouldn't do.


So here I sat, another bandage in my hand ready to go over the most recent stab-wound that I had acrued in my heart. This one wasn't that big, seeing as how, well, it only lasted a week. Damn. The sex was good. Not better-than-the-ex good, but still better than any other first I had had.

Time to think like a guy. Don't text, don't call, don't care.

If only it were that easy.
Where did my bad-ass self go? The one who didn't care. The one who only thought of herself, had fun, drank until the wee-hours and knew she didn't need a guy what-so-ever?
It couldn't have all been just an act. She's in there somewhere. I just know it. I ended up in front of my mirror again, just staring. Sucking in the fat, pulling back my hair. Any physical change that could give me my confidence back. Then I snapped. It's not physical. It's mental. That attitude is inside me, not in my looks. Yes, it sucks. Yes, I wish I was getting attention. I'm an attention whore, I absolutely fucking love it, and when it's taken away just like that, of course I'm going to snap.

Messy hair. That was the key. I shook my head, whipping my hair around being an animal. Just as soon as I started, I stopped and took a good look, and just like that, there she was again. 'I missed you.' I knew I was crazy, talking to myself, but I didn't give a damn. I was back.


There isn't anything more thereputic than a punching bag, a good conversation & a movie. Unless, of course, it's pizza, wine, and getting pampered.



There's something about Halloween. Pretending to be something your not, dressing up, being goofy, raising a little hell. It's in the air, maybe it's the smell of sugar from the candy, or the brisk October breeze, but Halloween is that one day that's just pure fun.

I realize that it's supposed to be scary, but you can make it whatever you want it to be. When you're little, you just know that you get free candy if you dress up. In your middle-school years, you try to be scary, deciding that Haunted Houses, Haunted Corn Mazes, or just scary movie parties are your thing. In High School, it's all about the parties, dressing up in as little as clothing as you can, pretending to be some slutty something. College is mostly the same, except you can drink legally now.

It's the pumpkins, the decorations, the ghost stories and the thrills & chills. It's about fun, and being that one thing that you really want to be. It's about imagination, terrors & haunts. Staking out a graveyard just to catch a glimpse of what could be.

Deny it all you want, but Halloween is my favorite holiday. Besides, on All Saints Day (11/1), all the extra candy is 1/2 of...what's NOT to love?!


Best Friends

It doesn't matter if you haven't talked in an hour, or a year, but a best friend is always your best friend. You signed up for the job (whether voluntarily or involuntarily). You're there for those phone calls at 2 am, 7 am, and 4 pm. You're there for the tears, the hugs, the laughter, joy and pain. You're there for...everything.

What hurts the most, though, in being a bff? Being 1400 miles away when your best friend needs you. When they need a hug, a plane ride, to just see you.

But then, there's Skype. Skype is there for face-to-face interactions. Like Long distance High-Fives (thanks to my brothers), and web-hugs. They're not the same by any means, but the shear rediculousness of it all makes it amusing.

Then you have those pleasant phone calls, ones where you're underneath the stars and wrapped snug in a blanket. Like you did that one night sitting on their balcony, looking at the moon and smelling of cigars. Where things aren't right in their world, but the only thing they know is right is talking to you. That's what you're there for. Those phone calls. The ones where if nothing else, they have you. They have someone to reassure them, make them laugh, whip them into shape, and just listen. They have a best friend, which many people don't have. You can spend hours after hours on the phone, talking about nothing and laughing about the stupidest things, and it's all okay...because no one quite gets you like that other person does.

Here's to Best friends.
May you always laugh,
rarely cry,
and drive each other crazy every chance you get.
With love.



Being sick isn't any fun at all. Especially when your nose feels like you've no chance at all of breathing out of it again, you look like a 'tard because you stare at everything with your mouth open (because you can't breath out of your nose), and your head feels as if you've been hit by a bus. Plus--ha, I didn't even add in the part about your stomach huritng so much you can't stand up without shooting pains. Those will go away, though...that's just because you didn't eat anything all day long.

Even my Vicks Puff's Tissues aren't helping much, and those are God's gift to sick people!! I'm tired, it's only 8:55, and I've been in bed trying to sleep since 8.
I'm sick.




It's just another story to tell. Every mistake, every accomplishment, every moment, they're all just stories to tell. That's all this is, too.
Moving to Texas, painting my room with a 12 year old, going out with my Aunt every weekend. They're all just stories. That's all life really adds up to, right? A series of adventures put into words, formed in lines and put into a story.

Now I'm going to love those boots even more. They have a story. A story of how a gallon of latex-based paint was spilled right onto them. The brown leather porus and absorbing that white paint as fast as it possibly could. A story of how I stood over the kitchen sink scrubbing them and scrubbing them with as much elbow grease as I could muster up. Those cowboy boots now have gumption (if an inanimate object can possibly have gumption). They have a story. It'll probably continue on tomorrow. Something about how I found a scorpion that had crawled into those stupid boots and I didn't notice until after it stung me that it was in there. Only because it's me...and that would be just my luck. Cross your fingers that doesn't happen, though. It would be a dreadful experience.

Yet a story none-the-less. After all, what kind of a past would something, or someone have, if there wasn't a story behind it?



There's always going to be that one relationship you wish you could get back. Whether it be friendship, familyship or actual relationsip, there's always one.

I say I like the way my one relationship is now, but I'm lying. I'm lying about how I miss him, lying about how I wish it was back to the way it used to be. Lying about how I'm happy for him, even though deep down, there's a percent of me that isn't. It's very tiny, but it's there.
I'm lying about how I'm happy the way things turned out.
I'm not right now, but I will be in the future, this I Know.
I'm just plain lying.

But, lies sometimes become the truth, right? If you work hard at them to make them reality.

I'm sad inside, about how we don't talk that much anymore.
I'm sad that someone else comes before me.
I'm sad that he's not the first person I call with my secrets anymore.
Really, I am.

I know it's all for the best, and that our lives were going two separate ways.
But I'm also sad, because I couldn't wait around anymore.
Not on him.
And he couldn't wait around on me.
It was never going to work for us, no matter how hard we tried,
And that's fine.
What's not fine, though, is how he's still waiting.
Waiting for his life to truly start.
Waiting on school, or the military, or a great job. Whichever comes first.
Stuck in Limbo, still waiting.
I'm not there anymore, I'm not his constant go-to person.
I have no real pull anymore.
That makes me sad.

I wish I could hug him.
Wish I knew what was really going on in his life.
I wish he really knew what was going on in mine.
I wish I still had my friend.
There's nothing I can do about it now, though.
Even if there is, there's nothing I should do about it.
I'm moving on and being strong.

We talk every once in a while, and he always sees me happy.
Which, for the most part, I am.
There aren't any tears in Texas, only laughter.
Laughter, smiles and fun.
No baggage comes with you to Austin.
It's a clean slate.

You're my boy ace...and you'll always be that relationship for me.

For now, though, Laughter is the sparkle in life and I intend on laughing a lot.
Today was great. It's not every day you run into a boy wearing BKE's, cowboy boots and a DU hat. Yea, I know, it's not every day you just randomly know when something is completely,totally, 100% right.


Liking Me

I'm not sure that cute hispanic men need to stare me down as they walk past while giving me that...stare.
Really, I'm not.

I'm not so awesome that you have to follow me, keep asking me questions. And by the way, I definitely know what 'hot ass' is in spanish.

I also would not let my kid lay on the floor of a Home Depot...for extended periods of time.

I would, however, flirt with the dirty blond who was the first one to introduce himself.
He's cute.
I would just walk around talking to people (it is my job).
I would accept an invite from a nice employee to go tailgating on Thanksgiving DAy before a big UT football game (and I Did).
And, I would definitely go for pizza with that guy in paint who's just a doll.

I would not go on a date with you because you said I had a nice ass in spanish and some other derogatory things that you thought I couldn't understand, and then ask me out in english. I replied with a 'no, gracias...y hablo espanol tambien.' before turning and walking away.

I will drive to San Antonio to have a party with a couple of dear friends.
I will have a good time.
I will let loose.
I will make another name for myself.
I will be me without you,
even though I miss you for seconds from time to time.
I will be me.
I am me.
I'm going to like me.

Credit Kills.

I have no money.
Really, I don't. Now, my aunt wants to sit down and look at my finances. Not a big deal, I need to. I just added it all up. I'm $2,251.60 in debt. To whom? Who would a 22 year old girl be in debt to? Well let's see. Grandma, Kay Jewelers, Buckle (thanks, ex boyfriend, for introducing me to THAT store), and Victorias Secret. They wouldn't be that bad if it were just Grandma, Vickies Secret & Kays. Those would only total $800.00ish all together.

But Buckle?! You're killing me, smalls. Your stupid interest for a girl who had to pay some medical bills are absolutely killing me.

I hate money.
I hate credit.
IT seemed amazing when I first turned 18, but I now realize it's the devil.
The absolute devil.

I, at 22, should not be this worried about money. It should be absolutely illegal for a teenager to have more than one credit card. Granted, Teenagers (as well as people in their early 20's) should be more responsible. How is that possible in the economy the way it is, though? It's hard!

Then, I go back to how when Bill Clinton was president things were cleaned up. Then how a certain Republican screwed it all up again. How the country wasn't managed the way it should be. How now, I'm not sure if it is either, but I voted for the guy. Mise as well back him up.

My debt isn't even that bad, and it stresses me out constantly. CONSTANTLY. No one has any idea. I work my ass off just so I can pay these bills. I pay them, and then I turn around and have no money. I'm living paycheck to paycheck at 22 years old. It's not because I'm a starving artist either.
I honestly, at times, feel like the bums on the street have it better than I do here in Austin.
Really, I do.
How sad is that?
Now because I was stupid, I probably won't be able to get a loan, I'm a high credit risk. Wonderful.
Credit Kills.


Dear D

why is that so hard to say? Why is it, that these feelings have come rushing back? Why, even when every other guy is hitting on me, and I'm feeling better than I ever have, all I want is your recognition? Well, that's a simple answer.

It's like pulling teeth, having a conversation with you. So that's why this is happening. This is a letter to you, D. Here goes.

I adore you. I have for about a year now. It happened almost instantly, and then, as I heard your story, I gained the utmost respect for you. You are sweet, caring, and hilarious. People just have to get to know you. You're an amazing griller, and your smile? It's the most contagious one I've ever seen. You make me have butterflies. Not the little 3rd grade 'I have a crush' butterflies, but the kind of butterflies you only get every once in a blue moon.

I'm scared that because of you, nothing will ever happen with this. Seriously, I am. Grow up! Become a little bit open. We were close when I was here last, at least I like to think so. My heart is beating a million miles a minute right now, D. Why can't you just take a chance? I did. This is the first time I've done something like this.
Please, Please Please Please, realize what I have on the line right now.
Because it's a lot.
And I'm nervous.
I'm scared.
I'm really scared, actually. I'm afraid I just ruined a great friendship...
but I can't hide it anymore. I don't want to. I'm sure you knew, anyways.
So please, just man up?
because if you don't respond in, like, 3 seconds...
I think I'm going to do something that I never, ever do.
Like give up hope.

Under the Texan Sky

I just overall feel better. I know that Under the Tuscan Sun is all about wine, love and Italy, but Under the Texan Sun is different. It's all about being healthy, inside and out, reinventing myself, and just being happy.

Who cares about finding love? Who's rules are those? Not mine. What are my rules? I don't have any. Why dictate what you can and can not live by? What's the point in giving yourself regulations? Uninhibited. That's what I want to be. That's what I'm going to be.

There's no expectations right now, because if I have expectations then I can be let down. Just for this once, I'm not giving myself any guidelines. None what-so-ever. It feels nice.

It's nice to just hang out in the sunshine, reading. It's nice to sit on the patio, listen to the fountain and write. Nice. Not stressed out, just relaxed It's been a long, LONG time since I just relaxed.

Under the Texan sun.
it means promise
it means hope.
It means faith
and it means letting go.
It means finding myself.

...how am I already chilly and it's only 84* out?


Sibling Love

It's amazing how someone can be so close with someone else.
Specifically a brother/sister relationship.

I think the world of this kid, more than he knows. I look up to him, honestly. He's a brilliant person, and I honestly wish I was half as book smart as he is. All throughout my childhood, I was so pissed off at him. He always got straight A's and made me feel like an idiot, and then I grew up. I realized that I should be happy for him, and eventually I was.

I realized what a great brother I had, who would let me crawl in his bed and fall asleep watching TV while he was on the computer, just because I had broken up with my ex boyfriend who I thought I loved. I realized that he was amazing, that no matter what he was always going to be my brother.

Then I went off to College again, and loved it when he came to visit, as rare as it was. No one has any idea what a pedestal I put this kid onto. He can write poetry brilliantly, and I could only ever hope to write that well.

There's a scar on his head from me when we were little, but I promise you, it was all out of love.

We were so close, in my eyes. Now, though, it seems like everything is changing. There are so many things that I think of, and I call him just to tell him, but he's busy. I get that, he's in college studying his ass off...we're all the way across the country from each other.

He's the one I go to, though. The one who always puts things into perspective for me...and it's been building up for a long time coming. I miss him. A lot of things have been coming into perspective for me since I detoxed my life. Family is one of them. I miss him so much...the fighting, the talking, and just making fun of each other. I just want to talk, but he never can. Even when he says he'll call back he forgets...it's like that friend you just get so fed up with because you know it's never going to happen so why get your hopes up. It just hurts. It's like the time when I got mad at him before I left for my freshman year in school and said, "I can't wait to leave so I don't have to deal with you!"...that broke him to the core (so I've heard). I knew exactly how to get to him, so I used it. It's like he knows exactly how to get to me, and he's doing it...by ignorning me. Not fully, but just enough.

I expect he can't always be there to talk, I know...but I feel forgotten about. I miss talking to my brother, telling him the stupid random stuff.

Then he calls, being totally sweet and all Jack-like, letting me know that blood always comes first and he'll schedule me in.

Like I need to be scheduled in.
Love you, buddy.


I...hate my life, just so you know.

Right now, my life sucks. A hot shower is ready for me afer a night out, a night in which I only got 3 hours total of sleep. Yep. Maybe 4, but that extra hour wasn't right with the other 3. Yay for San Antonio TX, yay for someone drunkenly peeing on your phone so it doesn't work, yay for only having 5 dollars in your checking account, and yay for being hungry and having to go to work. *sigh*. Shower time.



My biggest mantra is life goes on.

Why is it so hard for me to listen to myself? I'm sitting here, Wine in hand (White, Sauvignon Blanc), fighting back tears (not so much anymore) because I can't take my own damn advice.

I need to be okay by myself before I can be okay with someone else. This isn't even about a relationship. This is about friendship. Mourning the ones I've lost, and anticipating the ones I have yet to find. I'm stuck in my old habits and that needs to change (insert wine sip here).

Where do I make the change between young adult and experienced young adult? When do I realize that working at Home Depot is not enough? Why do I feel the need to grow up so fast, when I've barely even been young and stupid?

My partner-in-crime is no longer around, and I'm by myself. This is what I need, to be alone and to branch out (another wine sip). It would have been perfect tonight, but I am not about to go to a bar in Flint that would result in a high-school reunion, plus even a dreaded run-in with the ex. Not happening.

Flattering that you asked me out, though.
(another drink of wine....this time more of a gulp...).

I know this is sketchy tonight, but I'm writing as I'm thinking. Heaven forbid I say exactly what is on my mind, heaven forbid I don't ponder my words for seconds or minutes to make sure they don't offend anyone or some out more intelligent than I originally had thought.

I've had five years taken away from me. Five years I could have been having fun. Five years I could have been building up friendships, flings, and funny situations. Five years just gone....wasted in tears, trials and tribulations that weren't good. Five. Fucking. Years. (drink).

What the hell? Why did I let that happen?! WHY? The me I know and love would never have stood for that shit. Hell,
I'm not standing for it now.

I will not let another five years go by in misery without my notice. I will not stand for it.

(victorious wine gulp here)

Can it get better?
Will it get better? (go to drink wine)

......damn....I finished my glass.


missing you

I miss my best friend.

It's not as hard as it was last time...
but I want to be able to call anytime.
The only person stopping me is me,
and maybe that's the problem. I need to not call him, though.
It'll only make the situation worse, and make me believe I want something I don't.

I just want my best friend back (even though he never left).

No worries*

I beg for the days where I didn't measure everything in 'good hours' or 'bad hours'. I beg for the days when my bigget worry was why my best friend was mad at me. I beg for the days where I was practically worriless.

I realize this is all a part of growing up, and I welcome it. I just wish I were happier. I wish I was far away, being the independent amazing person I can be, instead of plagued with worn out memories and upsetting situations.

I wake up every morning with recollections of dreams from the night before. More and more they're reminding me I'm in a place I shouldn't be. Physically and mentally.

I'm left worshipping and greiving a friendship that has defined me for five years...and that is just plain wrong. I'm better than that, better than waiting for a friend to actually be in a friendship. Better than being put down every five minutes.

I know it's in joking fashion (sometimes), but it still hurts. I'm better than waiting all night for a phone call that'll never come. I'm better than being the last resort for plans. I'm just better than it all.

I'm done not having any self-esteem because someone inadvertantly tears it down. It's over, done for.
He will always be my friend, but it's better to be friends from a distance. That way, I can't get hurt. He can't hurt me.

That statement is still so far from the actual truth. Oh well. As my 12 year old cousin would tell me: Get over it. Life is too short to lose another 5 years of my life to nasty words and not-always-there friends.
I'm not going to do it.


Tryin' to grow up, but who knows where to start?

It's been a while since I've written, but I feel the need to get something out. None of that 'life is hard, there's heartache and heartbreak and blah blah blah.
...sort of.

It's about needing to do something with my life and not feeling stuck. Stuck in the cycle of shots, treatments, tears, romance and betrayal. I'm in on a merry-go-round that never ends. It ended for a brief period of time, but I'm right back on that ride, right back where I don't want to be.

I need to figure it out fast, too. My lease is ending, and with that I'll need to enroll in school closer to home, transfer my job, and just plain figure life out. I'm stuck in that phase somewhere between I know who I am, and I Know who I want to be, but how do I get there? How do I make the transition from struggling 22 year old college student to comfortable (physically, mentally and emotionally) 23 year old? I have a whole year to do it...but, my goal is by the end of summer. Unrealistic? Maybe.
Possible? We'll see. All I need is a plan. A plan that has twists and turns, edits and rewritings.
And no more tears.


I wish....

I wish someone was up to talk to me. I was doing great all day, and this new self-appreciation is a combination of Elizabeth Gilbert's novel Eat Pray Love and a realization--this came while eating pizza on a walk home from a bar, just like I used to do in Texas.

Then, I broke. I only talked to him once today...but I couldn't just go to sleep after an amazingly busy day with some of my best friends. No--I had to call. It didn't matter that we didn't talk and he probably won't remember the phone conversation. No--it was just that itch I had to scratch. I couldn't just say no.

Why are you the only thing that does this to me?
You suck.

Now it's time for sleep, the first full day of classes I will attend after being sick for two weeks is tomorrow. I need my rest if I'm going to go play tennis.
And, why is Barenaked Ladies singing Chickety China at the Olympics? Sorry--side note.

I need to sleep. I need to not think. I need to be able to love myself before I can sleep by myself, or even be comfortable being around myself.

I have an eclectic group of friends, though. The Sassy redhead, the brilliant brunettes and the bold blonds. They wouldn't hang out with each other, but I have one to fit every single mood I'm in. That is why they're awesome.
Thank you to Mel and Jessica for hanging out with me today. Old & New friends, I can never have too many to help pick me back up, or to just remind me what 'normal' is.
Reflecting on that thought, life is good again, and I'm kicking Loneliness out of my bed. I'm so not sleeping with him tonight. I'm fine just on my own.


Here's to Us

I have to let you go in order to get you back. I'm not saying that the way you think, either. I'm saying it because I've already done it. Had you not talked to me and made me believe things would be different, we would be great friends right now. I would be the friend you wanted me to be, the friend I can be. I know this. I'm sure of it. So, in order for you and I to be friends, I have to let you go in order to get you back.

I need to get back to being me. I need to get back to my 'Life goes on' attitude. I need to be myself again. I can be myself again...I'm confident. So,Cheers. Here's to finding myself again, writing it all out, and being the successful person I want to be.

Here's to the start of a beautiful friendship. Here's to us.

missing something...

How can I miss him when he's just in the next room? It's making me go insane. I need to go back to the pool and swim, swim my little heart out. I just wish I didn't get so tired after ten laps. Or two, even. I did ten yesterday, though. I feel fine. :-D

I have people who care about me. Countless people. People that span over many many different states. So why am I worried about one person? Why do I care that much? Yes he's my best friend. But he hurt me. I can't trust him. I'm not in love with him. So why is it affecting me this much? It shouldn't be. Not at all.

Just for the record--I deserve much, much better.


Video Games

I've realized that video games relieve stress. Just like running, or yoga. My best friend came over the other night and wanted to teach me the 'way of the gamer'. I suck at it, don't get me wrong. Yet, for some reason I am determined to kick his ass at some point so I keep playing. Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 has me addicted. My friend Jessica and I joked when it came out that it stole boyfriends everywhere. Now? I gave up a night going out with the girls for a video game and a boy.

Something is wrong here. Boys are dirty! They don't shower every day, leave dirty dishes out, and their clothes smell and they're all over the room. Ew. I must admit, though, I have way less stress on my plate than I did a couple days ago. Especially when I kill him in the game...it makes me feel happy. Not only because 1.) he's kicking my ass mercilessly, but because (and here's a secret) I've wanted to hurt him ever since he broke up with me...about a week and a half ago. It's nice.

Speaking of that. I'm still upset. Not upset to where I'm crying and distraught, but upset to where I get bummed. I miss kissing him. I miss knowing he'll always be there. I mean, he will always be there...but sometime another girl is going to come before me. That's going to suck when I'm not his number one. Even though the other night he said I will always be his number one...I know I won't. He's going to care about someone at some point more than me and she'll come before me. I just hope she doesn't lay down the 'rules' like his last fling. Bitch.


Word Vomit.

I can feel it coming. Early in the morning when I wake up. Or, when we're just laying in bed talking. I can feel it preparing to happen.

I can feel my brain thinking about how much fun we've had the past couple of days. The past week. I can feel my smile getting bigger when I think of him. I don't love him anymore. That faded out long ago. But I care about him more than anyone else in the world still. He's still my best friend. So I do love him, just in a different way.

Back to the word vomit, though. I want to ask him out. Roll over one morning and say it. I would get turned down, though...so I don't do it. I'm just so scared that one day, one significant moment, it's going to come out. Word vomit all over the place with hurt to follow.

Things can be different! He's back to being himself again...things are going well for him...I know they can be. I have this feeling that this is right and this is what should be happening before he leaves.

But, saying it would be word vomit and it would induce a fight. So I can't. Not yet. Maybe not ever.


Why do I write?

I have an assignment due tomorrow. It's for my magazine writing class on why I do what I do. Why do I write?

I write because I have to. I write because it's what I do. I write because my mind speaks words in ways that my mouth cannot, and they're transferred to my fingertips and onto a piece of paper. I write because I see what I'm thinking, and once it's on paper it's out of my mind. I write because it transfers my worries from my head so I can move on to something else. I write because one day I hope to become famous. I write because my friends like to read what I put onto paper. I write because it helps me get better grades on papers. I write because I have to. Writing is my own private get away. It lets me explore numerous possibilities with different characters and situations.
I write because if I didn’t, the past three years I would have had no outlet. I would not have known how to express my feelings at not being able to walk for two years, or for being a medical mystery. I write because I know other people are going through it, too. It is a struggle that many people have gone through before me, are going through now, and will go through after me. It is the same now. I write because I can’t let my best friend know how upset I am that he is joining the Air Force. It’s not because I’m not proud of him, or because I disagree with it, but because we have been inseparable for seven years.
I write because it is who I am. The words, the feelings and the emotion that I think, have and feel are all put onto paper and out of my head. I write because now, I don’t have to think about not talking to him, or even seeing him for the majority of six years. I write because I can’t put into words how much he believes he can do this on his own, but I know him well enough to know he can’t. I write, so at some point, he can read it…and realize how much he actually means to me and how strong our friendship actually is.
That is why I write. It’s simple, really. There isn’t a great long meaningful explanation to it. It’s just how I am. I was going to start off saying something about how April O’Nielle from the Ninja Turtles inspired me, but I could never be on camera…so writing was the next best thing. That did inspire me when I was five. I’m not that five year old anymore, though. I’m 21 real life has hit, and I write to get through it.



I had no idea how much my legs could hurt after not walking to class for a month. It should be no big deal...except, my knee makes it a big deal. I haven't taken a shot in three weeks. Is that bad? I want to go into remission SO bad...can that happen if I keep taking my shots every 15 days? How will I ever know if I actually do go into remission?

I don't want to have to take a shot every 15 days in order to walk. I will, but now I'm to the point where I can dance again. I can do my mile and a half every day, I can play tennis (I actually enrolled in a Tennis I class this semester!). Enbrel has helped a ton, but now I'm starting to think I can do without it. Mistake? My mom thinks so. My best friend, as well.

Do I take this chance and stop, only to later on not have the shot work at all? Or do I take the chance, just walk, run, play like normal and never know the difference? It's tough. I'm not sure what to do.

I do know, though, that this is a dilema. It doesn't help that I don't have any shots here, at my house. They're all at my parent's back home in Swartz Creek. If I'm going to continue pushing myself, I need that shot.

In other news: my Class schedule this semester is awesome. Good classes and good Profs. I'm outgoing this time, and have already made many friends in my classes.

My WWII history prof, she will be the struggle. I feel the need to salute her every time I enter that room. It's like I just enlisted in the United States Army in 1941 and I'm being shipped overseas. Bring it on, Germany, Japan and Italy. I'm ready to take you on.

My Tennis coach is CUTE. Big bright blue eyes, sandy blond hair, wonderful. Plus, since I played in high school, I know more than most of the class (which is 35 people!) and he asked for volunteers to be TA's. That's me! Kristen Ammerman, Tennis TA. All I want to do is perfect my serve. My volley's, backhands and forehands are awesome. I'm so excited to FINALLY be able to serve the ball like Maria Sharapova and kick my best friends butt.

Magazine Writing, Journ 332, will be my favorite journalism course thus far. I can just tell. Rodney instilled that I write because I'm better than the other people out there. I write because I have experiences to share, and I write because it's what I need to do.

I just know that this is my semester. I'm going to be found this semester, and I'm going to work for it. I'm sick of just settling. Let's do this.

Determined. Day 1.

I am a writer. I am a good writer. I know this. It's time to get it out to the rest of the world. My Blog, although I do love it dearly, isn't just working anymore. I write because I have to write. My Journ Prof for this semester has made me realize this. With just one class, he made me realize that I have so much potential that I am not using.

So this is day one. The day that I start writing things that matter, whether it be about my RA, college life, a struggling 20 something, etc. It's time I put all of my talent to use and start submitting articles to publishers. I can't wait on the Flint Journal to hire me as an intern this summer. I need to put it into effect now.

I am determined.
I am talented.
I am ready.
My articles can make a difference to someone, and will.
So, day one.


Who am I going to play tennis with when you leave?
Who am I going to talk to?
Who am I going to just randomly see movies every night of the week with?

Well, it doesn't matter that much. I'm following you, we talked about that. I'll have my base of friends again down south, where the other 'me' is. The stronger, 'I don't care' me. Wish I had her back.

She still exists. I found her yesterday while playing Tennis, while talking to you in the car. I found her written on my foot.

She doesn't have to go away. I don't have to go away. You just don't realize that. I really wish you would.

I've already said goodbye to three people to the military, and you're the one that's going to hurt me the most. It doesn't help that you want one of the most dangerous jobs out there.

This isn't the way things are supposed to be, and no my biggest secret and fear is out for everyone to see. Things don't have to change between us. They'll stay exactly as they were yesterday. This time you changed, not me, you just fail to see that. You're going to need me more than you ever did before.



I get strength from the oddest things. Randomly, Spontaneously, I got this tattoo two days ago. I was upset, mad, and feeling weak. I needed something to jolt me back to reality to make me remember all that I have been through, and all that I will go through.

I've wanted this tattoo for a while, just didn't have the guts to get it. I made my facebook status 'who wants to go with me to get a needle stuck in myself...again?' I just laughed a bit, thinking about how I wouldn't actually do it. Then, while I was in the shower, I thought, 'why not?' Why not go and get a tattoo? Of this exact phrase that has gotten me through the hardest years of my life?

With a nerve I never thought I would have, I just didn't care anymore. I didn't care that my parent's would give me hell, I didn't care that my best friend didn't like the placement. It's my body, my life. So I went to go get an estimate. It was cheaper than I expected. I hopped in the chair right then. Eric drew the design at Evolution in Swartz Creek, and within twenty minutes I had new art on my foot. I love it. To say the least.

Pain has a different definition to me, now. It has for a while. My foot hurt, I won't lie to you. Even though I was white knuckled throughout the whole thing and grimacing almost every time the needle went in me, I realized that if I just control my breathing (like I did with a 16 gauge in my kneecap), it's not bad. I even got into a fight with my brothers, and because I controlled my breathing, I was able to handle more than I could before. I truly am stronger.

Life goes on. Hundreds of people have been through this before me, thousands are going through this now, and a million will go through it after me. I am not the only one. Life goes on.

I got a new bed, and a new frame. I'm starting over again, completely this time.
It's time I grew up. New semester, new bed, new attitude. I got this.



I feel stupid. I've been through this before, I've been through almost everything before.
Breakups, Hospitals, heartbreak, losing my friends, losing family. I've gotten through it and now I'm stronger than I ever have been before.

If I've been through it all before, why is this time not any easier? Scratch that, it is, but now I'm just filled with anger. Not understanding, not sadness. Anger. I'm angry that I let him do this to me again. I'm angry that I'm going to lose my best friend unless he changes, because as much as he says it's me who has changed, it isn't. I'm angry that I can't sleep, I'm angry that I have to force myself to eat because I'm not hungry. I'm angry that he's weak. I'm angry that he thinks we can still be friends. I'm angry that one day, he's going to realize what a mistake he's made, and I won't be there.

I'm angry that there's a giant hole in my stomach that I can't seem to fill. I'm angry that I'm crying. I'm angry that he thinks we can go back to the way we were. I'm angry that I'm alone in this house at seven in the morning with no one to help me. I'm not lost, but I'm confused. I'm not exactly sure what the next step is, but I know I'll find it.

I'm so sick of this happening. I just want to be happy. I thought I was. Apparently I was completely wrong.