1) Walking through the front door. I love the antique clock...and Colonel Reb hangin' out. JSYK, I have Ole Miss stuff everywhere. I have really been missing Oxford, so I'm trying to cover all my bases to not get sad 2) (To the right of picture one) The living room. It's very open and comfortable.
3) (On left again) The kitchen with a peek of the kitchen table
4) Looking to go out the front door--I love my kids!
So, as everybody probably knows, I moved into a house at the end of November. Everybody should also know that I work in retail, so while for my well being that was most definitely the best decision...it wasn't exactly the best timing in terms of actually having the time to do anything besides sleep and shower in my new home. Well, it's February now, and I've finally gotten some time to make it more my own place. Granted, having "time" means I still didn't get a lot of sleep for a couple of weeks, but oh well. Everything is clean and organized (who knew I would turn out to be so ridiculously organized??), and while it is a bit Spartan in appearance, I am not a bit worried. Friends, my house is
adorable. I love the antique look, and this definitely fits that description, but it has modern touches and I've started to make it very Kelly-esque. So, you know, pink. Copper and Karma love it here too, and other than
always trying to get outside (and I can't blame them--the backyard is pretty enchanting even though I have started shaping it up yet), they have caused any problems. Other than the house, my life is pretty routine. Work has slowed down a little bit, but what with training and new management at the corporate level, it is always entertaining and it most definitely keeps me busy. Since I love work, this works out well for me. I'm currently reading 5 books right now, or trying to seeing as how I've been busy fixing everything how I like it in the house and working as much as I can, and trying my best to follow through with my letter writing plan. So far, I haven't been very consistent, but I'm getting there. My problem isn't with writing the letters--oh definitely not. It's that once I start my short, sweet letter has turned into a chapter book and 2 hours have passed. Who is actually surprised that I have a lot to say in any capacity? My friends are incredibly amazing people, and have literally as well as figuratively saved my life many times over, and I'm a strong believer in telling people how much they mean to you as often as you can. Perhaps that's the way I am naturally, or maybe it's because my mother battled cancer
and broke her neck all before I entered my teen years. As we all know, life is short--so why not tell your friends you love them and why? At least I've gotten better about not being quite as sappy about it. It's not that I think every conversation should end with a lengthy discussion of the virtues of friendship, but every once in a while, you should remind people why it is that that quick "love you" at the end of each phone call isn't merely cursory but rooted in something real.
It was my desire to remind the people in my life how wonderful they are that started this particular journey into letter writing, but it isn't the beginning of it all. For one thing, I've always loved letters in the way I love old books; there is a history--whether you are in the know or not--in the very pages of what you are holding. Of course, I completely fell in love with the idea of writing letters as I was about to leave for college and, while packing up my belongings in the clutter that 18 years of youth brings, my mother stumbled across a box of letters from when she was in college (at Ole Miss, naturally). Reading through them was really cool for me, but her eyes lit up as she carefully read each one for the first time in probably a decade or more. After finishing each one, she'd hug it close as she told a story that had been brought back to her attention because of something seemingly inane in that particular letter. The care she took as she placed them back in their box for safekeeping really made me view them as she did--treasures. Facebook had just been invented and I had set up an account immediately (you know, back when it was just for college students...and only if your school was on the list), and I had my new Ole Miss e-mail plus my cell phone so I knew keeping up with my friends woudn't be an issue, and yet...it wasn't the same. On a side note, I love technology and would be a bit lost without my trusty FB page and especially my cell phone, so I'm not hating on it in the least. There are many e-mails that I've saved over the years and completely cherish, and I'm grateful that even now, after college, I am so easily able to tell somebody instantly that I miss them or the like. Still, as much as I appreciate those e-mails, I think it probably would mean that much more if it were in letter form. If I printed off an e-mail, it wouldn't hold the same clout--in my mind--as holding something that a friend of mine handwrote and really thought about before sending it off to me. Plus, I have over 4000 unread e-mails in my inbox...so yeah. Also, I have about 14 (no exaggeration) voicemails that I haven't listened to on my phone--if you need me, just call again or text!
Anyway, it was after that session with my mom that I totally fell in love with the idea of writing letters to my friends...and promptly failed. Hey, I was 18 and heading off to college--clearly getting laid (check), drinking every mixture of liquor imaginable (double check--still hurts to think about), and making new friends (it's kind of funny that I only talk to all of my freshman year college friends on FB and kind of drifted away from them) were
way, WAY more important. I'm only half kidding here--I actually do think it's important to really experience college to learn anything, even if some of that stuff totally sucks later (or at the time if you happen to be trying to mix liquors and bitch beers to match the color of your lighter and realize that's actually a really bad idea as you are projectile vomiting in a frat house)--you certainly do learn. Naturally, letter writing got the axe pretty early on into my first week at school. Something tells me I actually did write a couple, but nothing that made a huge impression obviously. For sophomore year, I moved out of the dorm and into my Nannie's house in Abbeville and actually
did get better about the letters; once living back in Oxford, however, I promptly discarded it again. Apartments, parties, new friends (these I actually do keep up with and a few are on my letter writing list), classes I cared about because I had discovered my love of psychology, working over 30 hours a week in addition to school--this time it was pretty understandable that letters didn't remain a priority. Still, I think a part of me missed them because once I thought of trying to start it up again this time, I got way more excited about it than ever before. There are also far more people on my list now, so that definitely drives up the excitement level. And yet, I made this plan at the beginning of January, and though I've started many letters to multiple people, the only one I've sent was to Erika--and that was prompted by her thank you card for her lingerie shower. So, what's my problem, right?
A big part of it stems from the fact that, because I've been so awful about keeping up with it in the past, every letter I send out becomes a huge deal and even I lose interest reading it after the fifteenth example of why so-and-so is and epic human being. The beauty of my mom's letters (or part of the beauty) was that everything went into them, so some were long and emotionally written and others only really talked about how the person's week went and how delicious the sandwich they had on Wednesday tasted. Now, of course, stamps have gotten pretty expensive to be a piece of paper that happens to be sticky on the back, and since my funds are--as always-- pretty limited, I actually do have to pay attention to what I'm saying in my letters. It's a vicious cycle, really. Nonetheless (totally one of my favorite words--no idea why), I really want to try and follow through this time. Knowing this, I set a goal of writing 4 letters a year to about 10ish friends--totally doable...in theory. In addition to the content, there's my knowledge that I really do
want people to write letters back to me so I can save them for decades, but I didn't want to pressure anybody so when I told my friends about my idea, I was very casual in my desire to get letters in return. And since it's my idea to begin with, what if nobody gets around to writing back? Oh, le sigh.
Here we are again! When I started this blog, I really, truly thought all I wanted to do was put in a little blurb about my house and put up a few pictures...and look at what it's become. I really do love writing a ridiculous amount...maybe too much sometimes. Since I've started it though, I may as well keep on procrastinating on my letters and, you know, on sleep. Knowing me, I probably discussed this before, but this year I decided not to make resolutions but just kind of a hodge podge list of things I want to try at some point--trust me, I'm far more likely to do at least
something new this way. Once I started making a list, I realized there are quite a few random things that I want to do at some point--surprise, surprise--so the list became kinda long. Writing letters was one of them...and I've gotten pretty much nowhere on the rest. In my defense, a lot of them are outdoor activities, and it is positively freezing outside at any and all hours. We had that snow storm for one thing, and I was snowed
in my house for two days...and then snowed for three after that (work came and got me in a 4 wheel drive and getting back up wasn't an option until the snow had melted or else I'd be stuck again)--so running, hiking, planting flowers, star gazing and the like will have to wait until spring. I
have started taking more pictures, but I'm just getting used to remembering I actually own a camera at this point, so mostly the pictures have been of bigger events (Erika's bachelorette, New Years, New House) and not of the little things. At least I'm getting there on that one. Cooking more will hopefully be a reality soon, because my kitchen stuff is pretty much all set up and I'm getting used to my rent schedule, plus I really want to make myself smoothies and put things in the crockpot (this reminds me: I'm getting old--I sort of started to realize this after I asked for a vaccuum for my birthday...and freaked out in total joy when I got one, in
pink no less; now, I realized I don't care--smoothies and crockpots are awesome)...and I think I can handle the cooking
more part since my diet consists of Ramen noodles and Sweethearts candy. I love fresh fruits and veggies, but why do they have to be so expensive? The fact that the US government is so stumped over the obesity problem has to be a joke--how do they not realize that organic (and even non-organic, natural) food is crazy expensive and I'm pretty sure the majority (if not all at this point) fast food places have dollar menues? Don't be confused as to how a truly poor person could get to be 100 pounds overweight; be confused at the fact that you are helping to run our country but can't figure out this stumper. Hopefully, in addition to pretty flowers, I'll plant some veggies in my backyard too (really, cucumbers and tomatoes would make me feel pretty awesome at life) and then I can use those to cook fresh stuff when I just can't afford to buy them anywhere else. So, I have hope for the cooking thing. Using other means of expression, like cooking somebody their favorite dish, to express how much you care will probably go hand in hand with the cooking thing. I wanted to fix the tires on my bike to ride it again, and so far I've rescued it from my parents taking it to charity...and that's it. Of course, it's been cold as I said. Come spring, I hope I have the same enthusiasm as I do now.
There are a few other ones, mostly just fun and not too terribly serious, but one that I forgot I wrote but now is important to me is letting myself cry--and I have pretty much failed at this one too. The thing is, crying used to be nothing for me. If anybody said
anything that could be twisted into something mean or hateful, I'd do it--and cry like it was my full time job. Even during all my eating disorder/cutting days, crying was not typically difficult for me. I've racked my brain, and I have
absolutely no idea when I stopped being able to cry pretty much at all. It was a long time coming, no doubt, so I can't say it's surprising--but it is weird. When it comes to helping others or discussing their issues, I can cry just fine; when it's about me in any way, I just can't do it. Maybe years of practicing repression coupled with the fact that most adults I knew great up thought crying was either for sympathy or caused a scene started something years ago...and now I just simply don't cry (okay, it's rare that there are actual tears and it is related to me). At this point, it kind of both terrifies and fascinates me. This crying thing is definitely one I'm going to have to figure out.
So...hmmm. I'm pretty sure at some point in the last 20 minutes there were about 3 layers of procrastination occurring. Sa-weet! Fingers crossed: the ones I really want to make an extra effort toward are the letters, go hiking once it's warm , and actually remember that I have a camera and use it to take breathtaking pictures. I'd like to do all the things on my list, but that just isn't feasible...or at least if I start small, the world might come to me). Running and hiking are both on the list...but I want to enjoy these things...and after getting hit by that car, running hurts just a bit much. I'd like to really have a good time with running like I did over 8 years ago... but hiking sounds great and I'd like the company that seems more feasible on a hike. It totally cracks me up that last summer I was begging, pleading, for cold weather because of the whole not having AC in my car thing, and now I just want a tad bit of warmer weather so I can do all of these things I have planned. Plus, endorphins don't exactly suck. I must say I'm pretty disappointed in myself--and also not at the same time--that I haven't attempted to read a classic, suggestion, or reread a favorite book once a week...seeing as how I work at a bookstore and all. Well, I guess I kind of have been doing it, just unknowingly and not once a week. I'm not disappointed in myself completely only because I don't really have time to do that without really trying to and there are other things I'd like to read. Still, since suggestions count, I can say I've read a few--probably half the amount that I wanted to though. My mom
finally finished the book I checked out from work for her, so I can get the book
Room and start in on that one again (I truly detest starting a book and then having to stop, but my mom had been waiting on this other one for, quite literally,
months so I relented and checked it out for her. Let's see--what other books have I been reading? OH! I'm rereading the entire Harry Potter series--again--so that is super fun. Marya Hornbacher wrote another book after
Wasted (one of my all time absolute favorites) called
Madness, and I got it on sale at work so that one is in the wings. I keep starting and stopping
Interview with the Vampire, so I may have to set it aside for a while so I can get excited about it before attempting it again. The one I'm really, truly actively reading is
My Sweet Audrina by V.C. Andrews, which I had been hunting for months and finally found at McKay's for, no lie, a quarter. Seriously, I could not even attempt to order it through my work since there was literally no way to get it...and then, bliss. It's the little things really. After seeing
Flowers in the Attic on Netflix, I totally had to read the book--I had no idea at that point in time that it was actually a series--and completely devoured it and the other four in about a week and a half. For some reason, it was one of those series I just had to own, so now I have all but the last one...and thus began my love of the oddity that is V.C. Andrews. Somehow, in getting to know the Dollanger family in
Flowers, I found myself totally rooting for Chris and Cathy to eventually end up together in marriage...and they are brother and sister. V.C. Andrews wrote in such a way that you knew it was wrong, everything pointed to it being wrong...but it wasn't wrong for the particular people. So strange to find myself totally sucked it. I tried to start a couple of her other series and couldn't get into them, and then my friend Sarah from work told me about
My Sweet Audrina. It is taking me forever to read the book--solely because my main focus has been cleaning up my house--but it is so twisted, so poignantly sad, and
so good. Usually if I like a book I'm done within a couple of days, but occasionally I'll come across one that I enjoy reading slowly. The only other two that readily come to mind are
Wasted (by the way, it's a memoir of anorexia and bulimia--people are always like, 'nah I don't want to read about drunk people') and
The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls. It's her autobiography, and like but completely unlike V.C. Andrews, she writes in a way where you want to hate her parents, or at least slap them around and tell them to learn some responsibility...and yet you fall in love with them. If I ever became a published author, that's how I would want my books to be read. It can't be taught though...that really does come from within I think. Anyway, I honestly do want to read a lot of the classics, especially the ones I didn't even know about growing up. We have a bunch on clearance at work, and I bought
Picture of Dorian Gray, but I haven't gotten to start it yet. I want to get to a place where I can hang out for a few hours, because it seems like a book that deserves that right from the start, but good luck with that. For voracious readers like me, I realize I'm the luckiest person ever to have the job that I do, and many of my favorite books have been customer suggestions. Sometimes, however, people will just ramble on and on tryingto convince me that I need to read such-and-such book...and I can just tell from the genre or author or writing style or so on that I will never, ever read the book, or probably even remember it after an hour. For some reason, I find this to be true for a lot of the Christian Fiction books. I'm a Christian, but at the same time I don't want anything shoved down my throat, and every book I've skimmed through seems to end during an actual sermon. Technically, I'm a Methodist, but I don't think I have to go to church to be close to God--and most of the people recommending these books to me look at me like some kind of heathen when I say that. Occasionally, I do enjoy church--it's interesting to hear sermons (especially when humor is involved) and to talk with others who, in theory, share similar beliefs as mine. But it is far more important to me to see and feel God everywhere, in everday things. I'll sit and have a conversation with God in my head (or out loud if I'm alone) as if I were talking to a friend--same mannerisms, same concerns, a little less cussing. I see God in sunsets and sunrises, in the way light hits a tree for just a second to make it appear to be glowing, in a hug from a friend, in grass between my toes in the summer (seriously, please hurry warm weather!!)...and usually in these things more so than I have ever, or probably will ever, feel or see in a church. If you believe God made the Earth, then He made these things and they are a church in and of themselves. But seriously, say that to some people. They may hit you, and if they don't they certainly want to. I feel this way about most things though; the more you try to force your beliefs, genres, movies, restaurants, whatever on me, the less and less I want to listen. If we can discuss it rationally, then odds are I'll take a look at it and see if it interests me. Many people feel that way I think, so I have
no idea why there are still so many who think they are going to sway you if they just keep on and on and on. The flip side of having books recommended to me, of course, is that I sometimes have people who ask me if I have any suggestions. Let me just tell you--the answer is always
yes. Some people are pretty stuck on a genre that isn't my forte and just can't be convinced to try something new, but we have a true variety of types who work with me, so somebody will be able to help them. When people happen to be interested in genres and/or authors that I really like, I'm the happiest person in the world. By the way, I constantly mix up what kinds of books I read, partly because I just want to get to everything but mostly because I get bored if an author writes very similar stories in each book. Jodi Picoult and I have a love/hate relatioship because of that--I like her books, but after reading two, I have to take an extended hiatus because everything in her stories are so similar to her other works. Basically, if you want a suggestion for fiction, biography, true crime, select si-fi, teen fiction and, very rarely, romance...I can help you. I remember one woman in particular from last summer who came up and literally just chatted with me for a while (if you're interesting--I love this) and then asked if I could recommend something that was light and funny but didn't have really confusing plot lines that she could read in a day or slowly over a couple of weeks...and it was my dream scenario. My recommendation? Why, Janet Evanovich, of course. So she bought the first one after we chatted a bit more, and then I figured it was a 50/50 chance I'd see her again--okay 70/30--Evanovich is pretty awesome, but it would be within the week if there was a chance she'd come back. She had come late afternoon right before I left work for the day (during that 6 month period where I worked day shifts pretty much all the time), and at 9 AM she's the first one in the store when we open. She grinned at me and said, "You bitch" and then went to get the next 4 or 5 (she got more than just the next one for sure). Yeeeah, the
One for the Money series currently has 16 books, with the 17th one due out this summer. Haha! I was just paying it forward from the sneak attack that got me started on that series. At any rate, on any given day I will talk to somebody about serial killers and/or the holocaust, kittens, the stupid amount of books "by" James Patterson, and so on and so forth. Clearly, I love talking and though I am stubborn (hello, Taurus), I will always listen to what other people have to say as long as they aren't obstinate about it.
Well, well, well...like pretty much every blog I've ever written that's been more than a paragraph, this has turned into complete rambling...and that's how I like it. When I just let ideas flow naturally, pretty interesting (and diverse) stuff comes up. It helps that I like all the common interests that lend themselves to a lot of conversation--movies, books, animals....beer. I've come to realize that if a conversation lasts long enough, no matter what it is about, I will walk away knowing something I didn't know before or having a different opinion or viewpoint about something. Pretty much every day, there are those people who are rude to me--for all I know, it could be the day or something--and I always get the feeling (and sometimes, it is plainly obvious) that they look down on me because I'm "serving" them. Dream on--I'm educated, fun, and I also happen to need to make money. Those types of people don't really have true friends and all kinds of other problems I can only imagine, but it is hard to convince yourself of that when they are plainly mocking you because they think you aren't smart enough to realize what's going on. At that point in the conversation, I try to work in the fact that I do, in fact, have a degree (in psych, if it's relevant to tell them--and it almost always is). Oh man, the stuttering and blushing that goes on with those people at that point. It's so hilarious to watch...and I know they
totally did it to themselves. Sometimes, as a human, I judge others too quickly or just in general, but I try very hard not to do that. I've had people come through my line and start making fun of the people in front of them as soon as they exit the store, and I don't say a word. Occasionally, people speak up, either to defend themselves or figure me out, and I just explain that there are many,
many things about me that people could judge and since I don't want them doing that, I try not to either. Cue creepy guy--"What could they possibly judge? I love your hair, eyes, blah, blah, blah". Literally, people have asked me outright what peole judge me for, and I try very hard to be nice. Persistance gets me though. If I, like anybody else, doesn't want to tell you...I don't have to, and I've said as much before too. I'm polite, but I will let them know that isn't really any of their business....because it isn't. I remember one woman who came through my line probably within the first few weeks of me living back in TN. It was at the tail end of the summer, so I'm in a short sleeve shirt and you could see one of my cuts because of that. It kills me, but if I remember I try to put makeup over it before work...it makes me mad that I have to seem ashamed, but questions get irritating. She casually asked me what happened and I responded with my normal reply of a car accident...and then she really went to town. "Oh wow, what kind of car hit you? I still don't understand what scratched you to make that. It looks like somebody sliced pretty bad...", and then she gave me that sympathetic, "I'm here if you need to talk" look--like I was going to tell her anything. I was appalled. SIDE NOTE: I absolutely abhor that look. If you don't know me, really know me, you haven't earned the right to give me any look at all, and most of all, one of pity. I don't need your pity, and I'm going to help you out and let you know that most people don't want your pity either. Pity is irritating--it accomplishes nothing except to let you know that they think you have done something wrong. I've been living with myself for nearly 25 years and with my struggles for almost 10--I do NOT need anybody to tell me what I should be doing about these things. Seriously--suck it. Aside from the occasional "bad seed" if you will, I actually like most of my customers and enjoy interacting with the public on a day-to-day basis. That just reminded me I have to work tonight and need to take a nap sometime today....later.
So! That at least provides insight into what kind of things I want to at least attempt this year. It's a pretty random list because, let's face it, I'm a pretty random person. Oh, another item on the list was to try and write for pleasure more. Besides my occasional rants, praises, and everything in between I put on here (and yes, I DO wish I blogged more, but I still maintain that it is so unbelievably unnecessary to write everyday, or usually every other day--especially when you apologize for "falling so far behind" into your duties and promise to write 75 new blogs to make up for it. Seriously, nobody cares. If you blog that much when you are around my age, it begins to get very stupidly monotonous. There are a few blogs that I read from time to time, and one I read every day if I get the chance (I don't want to step on any toes here though, so google Spohr blog if you want to read check it out), and with the exception of the one that I read every day (again, if possible), most people
could sum up 5 blogs in one but want to feel self-important and therefore give us a virtual play-by-play of the day (or, you know, the tweaked version that makes them sound
super busy,
super important,
super frazzled, and
SUPER egotistical. I should stop though--really--because those are the ones that (unintentionally) keep me in stitches while also making me feel really smart and it's hard to beat that combination. I'd hate for people to stop writing, get lives, and take away some of my guffaw moments throughout the day...or really, I usually only get to look at them every couple of weeks but, by then,
JACKPOT! Just to clarify, once more, this is not referring to the blog I told people to google-- THAT blog is always interesting to me, and uplifting, and very, very real. It's truly a good one to follow. But I digress. Mostly, I blog for myself. It's fun for me, occasionaly it's difficult but good to vent or wallow, and if people find it, that's fine, but I'm not actively seeking them out and directing them to it. And then getting all mad when people comment....oh dear. I will never put a link on any social networking site, because that's my perogative. Chances are, if you ask me online if I have a blog, I'd just say no. If you ask me in person, you'll usually find yourself here. I'm not hiding anything, because at 24 I'm not ashamed of my past or present (though I'm willing to bet the future's got some embarrassing things in store), but at the same time, I try to be respectful. For one thing, and the big reason it's not linked anywhere, a lot of people who went through some of my ordeals with me don't like to relive the moments (I don't blame them), so why point them in the direction of something where those tough times are discussed frequently. Also, breaking news, I'm not the only one who has lived through eating disorders or self mutilation, and I don't want people to feel that they were right
or wrong in their own struggle. I typically try not to disclose too much, especially in terms of weight, etc. with the eating disorder, but sometimes I do or something seemingly innocuous can trigger something in somebody--and
that is something I very much want to avoid--in anybody, anywhere--but it would be very difficult if I found out that somebody I cared about had stumbled into something better left avoided. On the flip side, I've had people in the past (not from here, but from way back when during the days of chat rooms) berate, pity, whatever me...and this still hurts--and I suspect always will to some degree. The worst (for me) is when people feel the need to scold me for either going through it (or putting my family through it!) in the first place, or for going about it the wrong way. People will say things like, "Well, I knew somebody who got down to seventy something pounds and had a feeding tube, so hers must have been worse than yours"...or something to that effect. Let me say it clearly.
SUFFERING SHOULD NEVER BE A COMPETITION. That kind of mentality causes deaths. Every person's physical body is different, so any extreme it is put through will produce different responses to each individual body. When it comes down to it, these are all sicknesses of the mind, not of the body, and no matter how it is manifested on the outside, the inside still needs help. Mostly, I just wish society as a whole would learn what it means, and how to be, a little more sensitive. Being offensive gets you nowhere, and it can hurt so many along the way.
Oh,
To Write Love on Her Arms day is Sunday, February 13th. TWLOHA is an organization that is very near and dear to my heart, not just because of my own struggles, but also because I believe they do wonderful things and can make a huge difference in how we view and treat addictions and so forth. Check out their website for the back story. I don't think they made up the days (the other is November 13th), but they haven't ever said anything negative about it so it's a great idea as far as I'm concerned. Many of my friends have written love on their arms for me (and others) and sent me pictures, and it always makes me feel very loved, respected, and honored. (Really, all the day entails is writing the word
love on your arm--anywhere you choose on either arm--and representing for the day) It's a small gesture that speaks volumes to those who need it most. Occasionally, people will ask what it's for, so at least try to know enough of the story to honor its integrity. Last January, I had
love tattooed on my left wrist (yes, that little detail is important to me) in red ink. I went against tattooing standards and had it inked facing me instead of to everybody else, and I spent a lot of time thinking how I wanted it done. Personally, I knew having it face me was more important than showing it off to the world. I want people to know about TWLOHA, especially if they want to give help or need it themselves, but the tattoo itself was very much for me. And it has completely done its job. I'm proud to say--it was one year in January (you figure it out--it's not just when I got the tattoo done). Also, I have 2 of their t-shirts, partly because they always have the coolest designs and what not. So, Sunday, 2/13/11.
Okay then. I think I have exhausted all of any possible topics for a little bit, so
now I will finally show those house pictures I mentioned 23 chapters ago and then write a letter and take a nap. I hope everybody has a great week! :)
P.S. They loaded at the top and I don't feel like dragging them, which you know by now. Captions up top, too.
1) The rest of the world is asleep. My schedule is almost completely opposite from the rest of the world, but mostly I don't mind. I thought this color blue was remarkable.
2) After a long night at work, I come home to this. What a precious little fur baby.
1) Yummy sushi during an afternoon outing with Cindy, before we saw Black Swan. Such a fun night out with a good friend!! 
4) New Years Eve--ringing in 2011 with good friends and watermelon flavored hookah. 
5) Jamie, me, Erika, and Will enjoying wine right after I arrived at the party. Fashionably late as always, but ready for fun :)
7) Beginning of the night. Erika's mom hired one of her students to be the DD. Trust me, it was a wise call. 
n under all that. Maybe one day that will change, but I'm not going to hang around hoping that day comes. There are far too many people that love me and too much good left for me to see to dwell on what could have been. Yes, it hurts that somebody I considered a friend decided to treat me this way, but I know that I deserve far better from my friends--and get it every day. Sometimes I'm sad about it, but I'm really just ready to move on and forget. That is much less stressful.
lowers in the Attic (which can be watched instantly on Netflix). It's based on the V.C. Andrews book of the same name, which I have not read but very much want to--along with the sequels which I don't think made it to movie format. For lovers of psychology, it really is a must see, but keep in mind it was made some time ago (late 70s or early 80s I think). Some of those favorites I mentioned are on the list because I saw them when I was very young (Carrie--age 9; Halloween--age 10; The Exorcist--age 13) and they have stuck with me...kind of like a macabre version of remembering a first kiss (Harrison--age 5 or, if you think that one doesn't really count, Michael--age 11). All scary movie buffs (okay, almost all) remember their first scary movie (or the earliest they can recall anyway--some started young). I also remember my first movie (Leonardo Dicaprio) and TV (JTT) crushes. Also, I remember people I wanted to be "just like" when I grew up (Jo fro
m Little Women--book first, then movie--and Cher from Clueless-- oh come on, I was 10). I even remember authors I admired as I discovered my own love of writing (Alcott, Du Maurier, Bronte, Plath, Hornbacher). But it all goes back to the horror movies, because they awakened my senses and made me really think. Pet Semetary made my list of faves because, once again, it made me think. What if you could bring back a loved one from an unfair death? Would you? What if there were no guarantees that they would be the same? Or what if it was pretty much certain that they would be very different? I think most people would have a tough time with that decision, especially when the death is so new and the feelings are so raw. Oh, on a side note, that little kid always totally creeped me out after he came back from the dead. Sometimes, it's also just fun to be spooked.
understatement. I do work with some characters, however, so maybe it will be pretty fun. Thus far, I have no real plans for the holiday itself; I'm sure something awesome will come up, but once again I find myself missing Oxford during these favorite times of year. I feel like I complain about this a lot, but I hope to find myself back in Mississippi in the next few months. I miss the people, and the weather, and the state itself. I know I was born in Tennessee, but Mississippi feels so much like home even still.