Friday, May 17, 2013
Monday, May 13, 2013
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
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]
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
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:
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]
Monday, April 8, 2013
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
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.
[title from believe me by ellie goulding]
Thursday, March 14, 2013
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]
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
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).
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.
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]