Therapy

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.

Halloween*

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.

Sicko

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.
Yep.
I'm sick.

Wond-er-ful.

stories*

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.
Everything.
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?

flickering*

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.
Not.
At.
All.

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.