girls in white dresses

work is going really well. i'm making a great first impression. like today, for example, when i called my boss in hysterics to just let her know that i was going to be a little late coming back from lunch because my car was sitting motionless on an access road. and bless her heart she was genuinely more concerned about my safety and well being than anything else. she's not a half-hearted let me know if i can do anything kinda person. she's a let me send someone to help you, i will come and sit with you while you wait for someone to get there, it's not your fault, you're not supposed to know anything about cars kind of person. so thank heavens for that.

quite simply, my car overheated. the water levels were dangerously low and it's a record breaking hundred degrees outside. the whole thing went as it usually does; car breaks down in the middle of the road, friendly passerby stop to help the stressed out barefoot girl who is crying, attempts to push her car off of the road kinda thing. but here's where it got fun: my car had shut off and wouldn't turn back on. meaning the power steering wasn't on. also, my brakes were locked up. so friendly homeboy with the curly mullet told me to put my car in neutral and that he'd give me a good push with his truck. and push he did. he propelled me through the intersection after giving me directions to pull into the gas station. WELL GUYS. when your steering wheel doesn't turn and your brakes won't deploy you are completely out of control of your car. there is nothing you can do except sit tensely in your seat and PANIC as your car jumps a curb and skids across a dirt field and just hope hope hope that it stops. eventually it did, as did my heart for a few seconds. the rest of it was comfortably uneventful; he explained how cars work and what gauges are for, with only the slightest you-are-an-idiot undertones. and then, just for good measure, threw in just the slightest bit of creepy--how come your boyfriend's not helping you? oh you're gonna owe me a beer and the charming give me your number in case you ever get stranded. you're negating your niceness points, buddy. calm down.

so folks, the lesson learned here is that cars, like plants, need to be watered. maybe not everyday, but it should probably be checked at least every six months. and anytime your car goes careening across a vacant dirt lot instead of into a building/other cars/people, you stop right there and praise whatever god you worship.

[title from build god, then we'll talk by panic at the disco]

with a monkey wrench

Last summer when I came home from school, I didn’t really know where my life was going. Better yet, I didn’t know where I wanted it to go. It didn’t matter though, because I had determination. I made a list of things to do and I did them. I threw myself into deep cleaning the house, organizing the closets, coaxing the front yard back to life, and finding a job. The last one proved to be the hardest. I started with high expectations, but they lowered as I felt more and more defeated. I submitted my 100^th job application to Firehouse Subs. Nothing. By a seemingly random chain of events (the way most things have gone in my life) I found a temporary, part time job. I would work random, eight-hour shifts in a dark, cold lab. I loved it. I loved the long drive out into the middle of nowhere, the flexibility, the relaxed work environment, the fact that I wasn’t servin’ up french fries all summer. And after a few weeks I started meeting the people that worked there. It was a bunch of rowdy, unruly guys. In my first interaction with them, they called each other “heathen” and “mongrel” and I was absolutely in stitches at their antics. Just like that, my job got better. I’d come to work in flip-flops, cutoffs, and hair in a messy bun, eager to be the best employee and get good test results. I worked hard because I liked my job.

The summer came and went. Most of the other summer employees went back to school. Plant material wasn’t available for testing anymore. I still came to work every day, and was tasked with whatever random job needed to be done that day. After a few weeks of breath holding, am-I-going-to-lose-my-job limbo, I got an answer. I was sitting outside in the dirt peeling stickers off a truck when I was offered a full time, salaried-with-benefits, real grown up job. With no real title and essentially doing the same random tasks that varied daily, I was given a chance to stay.

Boy I tell you what, that was one of the greatest chances of my life. I changed through the next few months—a lot of things, both deep and shallow. I loved going to work. Like, Sunday night would be thrilling because the next day was Monday and I could go back to work. I would stay late and sometimes go in on Saturdays just because. I distinctly remember walking in the doors and marveling that I didn’t ever get sick of that place; that I knew I probably never would. I made some of the best friends I’ve ever made and really made some strides in the whole being a human thing.

And yet, as I’m sure you can tell from the past-tense writing, something changed.

On April 30^th, around 2:30 in the afternoon, I got fired from my first real job.

Okay, fired sounds harsh, I know. Technically I was laid off; I didn’t do anything wrong except thinking I could keep a job at a company that couldn’t afford to pay me. I wasn’t the only one let go that day, but it still stung. I was blindsided. I felt stupid for everything—for what I was wearing, for the way I’d skipped around the office earlier that morning, for everything. Rather that absolutely lose it in the office, I politely excused myself, walked out of the office completely composed (THIS IS HUGE FOR ME, GUYS. I AM AN EMOTIONAL TRAIN WRECK 90% OF THE TIME), and drove to a little back road where I parked and cried.

THE BAD:

I lost the safest environment I’d ever been in, other than my home.

I can’t hang out with my friends anymore and get paid for it.

I was comfortable there, and any kind of change is absolutely earth shattering for someone like me.

Yeah, the friends thing again.

THE GOOD:

The friends thing. I didn’t leave there with any malice in my heart, nor did anyone hold any towards me. I left there knowing that people like me and they would have kept me if they could.

I was liked there so much that I had three job interviews the next day, one of which wanted to hire me immediately. All three interviews were lined up by people at that company who were sad to see me go.

It’s still a safe place. I still have those friends, even though I only get to see them occasionally.

Nobody really thought I was stupid for skipping around the office.

I did get offered a job the day after being fired (sorry, laid off). Today was my first day of work. It was only a mild disaster. At my previous job, I didn’t have to make a good impression or remember peoples’ names or learn how the company worked (I already knew all of this from the stint over the summer). Today was overwhelming as I tried to ward off the waves of despair that flooded over me every time I tried to remember a co-workers’ name. Every time I answered a phone and almost got the company name wrong. Every time I brought a customer back to the wrong office because I cannot remember which one is Jim (luckily that only happened once). Every time I remembered my other job and how much fun they were probably having (which is probably zero because I no longer work there, let’s be honest). Every time I went to the fridge to get a bottle of water and think that this brand of water sucks, why can’t we have the brand my other job had. And I tell ya what, silencing all the Debbie downer thoughts while trying to learn the ropes of a construction company do NOT go hand in hand. I don’t recommend it.

As overwhelming as it may be, I know it’ll get better. There are so many wonderful things that I already love about this new job, and I’m sure I’ll grow to love it as much as the last one and that I’ll eventually start skipping around the office again. 

(and the really good news is that I'm still getting paid from the old job while working the new one. double paychecks is something i'll never complain about.) 

[title from little miss can't be wrong by the spin doctors]

pineapple coconut rum

i’d hate to oversell anything with a gross hyperbole, but a few weeks ago i had the best twenty four hours of my life. the bitter, vengeful winter took a break from hating me and the sun came out in full force and it just so happened that my friend was house sitting and needed company. in the pool.

oh my majestic.

we turned on music, laid out towels, and stretched out our bodies, inviting the sun to darken every inch of skin. the routine went as usual; sit in the sun until you’re dreary and drowsy from the heat, then dive in the icy water for a shocking, awakening relief. absolute bliss.

the afternoon encompassed every one of the sensations i miss from summer: the combination of chlorine and salty skin, what it does to your hair and skin and heart. the way it feels when your skin gets stretched tight from the sun. the cool drinks, the hot sun, the coconut smell of tanning oil. it is everything i love in life.

we stayed outside forever, talking about nothing and everything and life and people and what kind of pizza to get for dinner. we watched the sun slip away and eventually the cold chased us inside.

we ate dinner and watched the office and i passed up a bed to sleep on the floor. the next morning i woke up as the sun was rising and couldn’t resist heading back outside. it was breathtakingly beautiful and utterly peaceful.

naturally, we spent the rest of the morning soaking up more sun. though i wish the warm weather had lasted forever, it was enough to keep me going. but oh i can’t wait until summer.

[title from tip it back by florida georgia line]

the wonderful mess that we’ve made

a peaceful picture of the lake i like to write at, so that the hectic-ness of this post will catch you off guard

i woke up this morning in a panic. i’d been having nightmares about baby turtles the size of bugs in red solo cups. some of them had legs cut off. this probably says something about my personality. (something? anything?)

i stumbled around my room choosing clothes and a deodorant [i have four on my shelf. so what]. i threw on a shirt and unfolded a pair of jeans. then, in a style i’d previously thought was reserved for movies and other imaginary instances, i tripped and stepped my foot into the crotch, tearing the right leg completely away from the left. i sighed and put on a different pair of jeans—a little more carefully this time.

while brushing my teeth i looked at my hair, which had been carefully crafted into its usual went-to-sleep-with-it-wet look. i ran my fingers through my bangs, shrugged, and headed out the door.

work went just as smoothly as the morning. it involved slamming my hand in a door, getting my hair caught in my ring [which, ironically, is a turtle], riding a forklift up to the ceiling to retrieve a football, and unintentionally lying to an old man about lemon curd.

then i came back from lunch to find this:

of course.

i cuffed up my pants, kicked off my rainbows [that’s how you know stuff is gettin’ serious] and went to work. i lugged the air compressor out of our warehouse into the parking lot. i tried to carry it down the stairs, but it was a little heavier than expected and it sort of ended up dragging me down the stairs [naturally, using the ramp for the wheeled compressor was out of the question]. i got it to the jeep and had to head back for an extension cord. the wind was blowing at its normal hurricane speed and today was the day i forgot to throw some hair ties around my wrist. i stumbled barefoot across the rocky parking lot, blinded by and entangled in this massive blonde seaweed sprouting out of my head. my frustration was building. i impatiently grabbed the first cord i saw, plugged it in, and pulled it out the door. i was nearly sprinting across the parking lot when the cord got caught. again, in the style of a movie, the cord yanked me back and i fell flat on my butt. i uttered some swear words as i went to see what the problem was. turns out, there was a pickaxe tangled up in the extension cord. naturally. i briefly considered using it to chop off my hair.

after i untangled the monstrous cord, i finally got the compressor working. and so there i was, gravel digging into my knees, sun beating on my back, knotted hair whipping around my face, swearing like a sailor, trying to get the tire inflated enough get to a repair place, when i looked up to one of the [really attractive] workers from the company next door asking if i needed any help. i squinted into the sun, brushed my hair out of my face, and willed my brain to come up with some human words. i reached up to pull the valve cap and psi gauge out of my mouth when that dang texas wind whipped my baggy shirt waaaaaaay up. in a very ladylike manner i pulled my shirt down, declined his offer, crawled under my jeep, and died.

and then there’s the story of how i barely made it to the repair place because my tire was leaking so rapidly. and then the one about how the dirtbag tire men tried to rip me off thinking i knew nothing about tires [or had no common sense]. or how i later dropped 72 cans of soda, trying to balance them on my knee and open a door. but that’ll have to wait; it’s 3:30 in the afternoon and i am ready for bed.

[title from flaws by bastille]

the world dances to the rhythm of its own

my grandma died. i went to her funeral.

[yes, my writing skills may have regressed to that of a shaky handed kindergartner, but sometimes starting these things is the hardest part]

i wasn’t going to make it to her funeral. everything conspired against me until the day before the funeral [around four in the morning, no less]. but it worked. i threw my cowboy boots and some cheetos into rickety ol’ kocoum and headed off on my first-ever independent road trip.

i met up with my cousins and worried about nothing except the minimal cell reception and the creation of new playlists.

coat courtesy of a relative, as i brought absolutely no warm clothes

stunna.

it was absolutely frigid. parts of the weekend were miserable. but i am so incredibly glad that i went.

it was strange being in sanford again—the first time in almost ten years. i knew almost no one [unfortunately that did not mean they didn’t know me]. it was funny to notice the difference between males and females; females usually went to great lengths to remind me who they were, something significant that happened to us together, who’s daughter they were, who all the siblings were, etc. And the good ol’ males nodded and essentially said “sup.” I needed to be born a boy.

the funeral was peaceful. it seemed significantly less painful than the last one i attended; the cliché “she is in a better place” felt more true than with jada. my grandma had served her time here and had more to look forward to on the other side than she did with her life here.

the cemetery was beautiful—gently covered in slowly melting snow. evidently it was one of sanfords’ warmer days. excellent news for me, who [again] didn’t bring any warm clothes.

when i was in high school my grandma lived with us for a while. she’d already slipped into phases of forgetfulness, but that didn’t make her any less fun to have around. one night i slept on the floor in her room, to ensure her comfort and safety throughout the night. but she didn’t sleep. she’d wake up periodically, see me on the floor, and ask “need another blanket??” she would then scour the room for anything that might potentially keep me warm; i had towels, sheets, button up shirts, and even a pair of shoes tossed at me. clearly warmth wasn’t an issue during that hot floridian summer night, but it didn’t deter her one bit [even despite my adamant protests that no i don’t need another blanket]. it was sweet to have things come full circle as i stood at her funeral in my knee length dress and had an inordinate amount of people offer me anything they could to keep me warm. i’m sure she was looking down, smirking, wishing she could throw shoes at me from heaven.

it was nice to see extended family again [though i make no promises to remember them next time i see them]. it was a huge emotional weekend—full of closure and healing. my body didn’t hold up well though; i had the worst case of the flu i’ve ever had. i almost didn’t make it home alive. 

but i did. the flu lasted for one of the most miserable weeks of my life, only offset by a heartwarming little gold mine of people who care about me.

endings are also hard.

the end.

[title from believe me by ellie goulding]

to our senses

the low today is 41 degrees. the high is 81. i’d say i’m about as stable as the weather—and maybe this is just the warm weather talking—but here’s how i feel today:

i feel calm, content, and peaceful. i feel like the little nagging voice that has harassed, belittled, undermined, and demeaned me since at least fourth grade is gone. dead. finally silent. i don’t know what happened, but for the last few months i’ve felt like i’m in control of myself, a little more in control of my emotions. i don’t feel superbly nervous, awkward, or self conscious in most situations the way i have most of my life. i feel like i am something—and something great. sure, i still make mistakes and do things wrong. but for once in my life I'm not worried about appearances, pretenses, or other peoples' perceptions of me. i don’t feel like i’m preemptively apologizing for my whole life or feeling stupid for the things i like, say, and feel. that confidence, the restfulness, the “inner peace” that i think i’m experiencing—that’s something i’ve sought for since high school. i wanted to not be my own worst enemy. and now i can proudly say that i am not! i listen to girly music and sometimes have the emotional capacity of a boy. i like bright colors and having unruly, unkempt hair.  i take pictures of nothing because it seems cool to me.

things still suck sometimes and bad things still happen, but it’s a different world when the battles are all exterior; when you’re not constantly warring with yourself.  i am impatient, impulsive, and independent to a fault, but i kind of like that about myself. and embracing that [the way that i embrace other people’s flaws, differences, whatever you want to call it] has made life such a smoother sea to sail.

[title from taste by josh abbot band]

waste days in foreign places

about a thousand years ago (or maybe a few weeks, same thing) i went to san antonio. we didn’t fly—we drove. that’s something that’s been an adjustment with texans; they just love to drive everywhere. it may have something to do with cost but what i really think is that they just love ol’ texas so much that they jump at the chance to spend hours staring at it. so instead of the stress of an airport, they coax their cars across straight, flat roads, through the heat of the setting sun and the nothingness of night. because they love texas. just a theory.

and so i spent the six-ish hours watching the sunset stretched across the backseat of a wonderful-smelling jetta, alternating between tucking my knees into my chest and sprawling out with my feet resting on the window. "comfortable" for me means not sitting still. whatever contorted position my body is in, even if it's comfortable , only feels good for a matter of minutes. tossing and turning is my idea of relaxation. i think this may be a deep psychological issue.

san antonio was absolutely beautiful. it was incredibly humid and happened to be overcast that weekend, but it was so hugely reminiscent of florida that i was thrilled. it was green and rainy and full of diversity (well, compared to lubbock anyway).

we lazily wandered through the alamo (not much to see after all the buildup it gets) and thee surrounding grounds.flowers! real, live flowers!

i also heard a lot of talk about the riverwalk and how impressive it is. i had a different encounter with it: my only viewing of it was midday through a mall window, where we peered down to see a girl who was evidently filming some sort of music video.

she would awkwardly pause and attempt to be nonchalant every time a tour boat passed by, sending me into little fits of hysteria that brought me strange stares from the boys i was with. one way or another, the riverwalk=entertaining.

the house we stayed at was an hour outside of san antonio, way out in wine country.

i saw a lot of wine and ate a lot of food; encountering quail for the first time and eating brisket burritos for breakfast. i slept until noon two days in a row. my skin cleared up and my hair wasn’t all dry and stick like for the first time in a long time. absolute heaven.

[title from i’ll hold my breath by ellie goulding]