Monday, October 19, 2009

To my perfect little lady, Sox:

It is still a mystery to me how my dad was in the right place at the right time to find your tiny little self on the street that night he was working late. I dont know if something led you to him, or it was just coincidence but I am so thankful that he found you and brought you home with him. We are not a "pet" family. Generally we have had one pet at a time, two at the most, and we never bring home strays. The fact that my dad brought you with him is just about as strange as it is amazing. Your little white feet made us name you Sox. I was in third grade and so excited to go to school the next day and tell people about my brand new kitten. Sophie got along with you marvelously, she was an old lady at the time and didnt mind your squeaky cry and squirmy body...she had had about 24 kittens in her lifetime by that point and I feel like she enjoyed having you around. Roxy loved having a playmate and you two were good friends from the start. Curiosity almost got the best of you a few times, a bee sting that made your hand swell bigger than a dobermans, a broken hip from jumping out of a tree, a near miss by a car, but that is what made me love you even more. You were such a tiny little thing your whole life, and never lost your little squeak. I dont think I ever heard you meow, just squeak. I loved your little raccoon tail and pretty green eyes. Thank you for being such a sweet, loving little girl. Thank you for purring when I scratched your belly. I forgive you for peeing on me that one time, it was my fault for picking you up while you were midway through relieving yourself! Sugar will look for you when we get home, and I will probably cry. When it gets cold I will probably forget you are gone and look for you so I can bring you inside even though you never even liked it inside anyway. I will think of you every time it rains. You are the only cat I know that doesnt give two shits about water. Im gonna miss you little girl! Im going to miss you so much. I wish I could have held you one more time, even despite your squeaks and protests. You will forever be my little tomboy. Im going to miss you forever.

Thursday, September 3, 2009


I wish i could understand how life goes from wonderful, to so insanely stressful in a matter of seconds. Being in college has got to be the most rewarding, wonderful, trying, stressful time of anyone's life! Such a collection of hormones, emotions, and bullshit is never good together but then you take a catalyst like stress and add it to the mix and suddenly everything just gets entirely stupid. I live with three girls, A, J, and S. A and J are previous roommates, and S is brand new due to our old fourth roommate (and my best friend) K falling in love and moving in with her new boy. Living with such a crowded household is not as hard as it seems when everyone gets along and speaks up when there is a problem but like a splinter that turns into an infection, one bad part in the mix really ruins the whole situation.

At our old apartment I was in the "B" room. (College apartments are leased out by room, and labled with letters. You get a key to the front door, and your personal room. A lot of times people get placed and don't pick their roommates so it ensures privacy and somewhere to keep personal belongings safe if you dont know who you are liviing with) The "B" room was the only room in the apartment that had a door in the main hallway for the room, and a seperate door for the bathroom. Basically, I could lock up my bedroom and guests could use the bathroom without being allowed in my room. The bathroom caused a lot of problems because I was constantly getting things stolen by my roommates friends (tiffany jewelry, perfume, shampoo, pain killers) and also constantly having to clean up after others (drunk people PEEING in my laundry basket, on the floor, etc..) I tried to be as laid back as I could but after a while it all got to be way to much to deal with. My roommates all agreed that I could have one of the back rooms at the new place so I would not have to deal with all of these issues all over again. This agreement was made BEFORE K decided to move out though. The new girl that took over her lease was never informed of the agreement.

Come move in, we find out once again I am placed up front. This time in the "A" room. A is probably the worst room to have if you have social roommates who like to have friends over. The bedroom window looks out onto the balcony, and the room shares walls with the living room. Crushed, I begged the new girl to trade with me. SHe was in the "D" room. "D" was such a beautiful room, sunny, full of windows, and in the very back. Every single thing that I wanted and needed but didnt have at my old apartment. The front rooms NEVER get any sun and therefore are extremely cavelike, and hard to wake up and get the day started in. They are wonderful for nice long afternoon naps but not ideal if you are trying to be productive and wake up at 8 am for class. S agreed to trade rooms with me and seriously, I dont think I can express how happy I was. Everything was working out perfectly. I had my perfect, wonderful room at my new, wonderful apartment.

As the days after move in came and went we didnt see much of S at all. I was so excited about the new apartment that I spent the next five days painting, hanging shelves, installing a wonderful rainshower shower head, unpacking and organizing. I should have known better to get so excited because seriously, I am notorious for getting cosmically shit on on the regular.

On the fifth day, the new roommate S has spent one night in her new room. We had invited her out, and we were trying to be friendly. I was walking my dog that afternoon when I ran into her on the sidewalk. I honestly dont remember much after she hit me with the "We have to talk..."

Ok seriosuly, "We have to talk" is NEVER a good start to a conversation. Nothing good ever comes from it. Ever. Basically, S decided that she needed her room back. The night before she couldnt sleep and she needed my beautiful, cozy, perfect room back. At that moment all I could do was cry. I put my dog up, and drove around the complex about 100 times before I finally went back home to cry some more. I looked around at my new little home and cried until I felt sick. I talked to my mom, my roommates, my best friends, and they all said what she was doing was unfair. Unfortunately, LEGALLY the room was hers. The last text she sent me was "Im sorry you think this is so unfair but you need to get out."

I cannot describe how hard it is to live with her now that all of this has happened. I am now in a cave-like, smaller room in the front in EVERYONES business. I hate it. Basically, S, I pretty much hate YOU. I hate you every time you dont spend the night at the apartment (which so far has been EVERY FUCKING NIGHT). WHy do you get the beautiful room if you dont want to use it?? I hate you for covering the beautiful windows with your weird draperies. I miss the sunshine and you just cover it up. I hate that you are a slut and sleep with someone new every night. Some that you know, some that you dont, you arent picky. I hate that you tried to hit on my boyfriend. I hate you for thinking that my boyfriend would even respond to your pathetic advances! I wish you knew what everyone says about you when you arent around. Men dont respect you, women hate you, your intentions are always selfish, and shady. I hate you for being upset at me for being mad. I should be mad. You are a bitch. The sooner you move out and are out of my life the better.


Friday, June 26, 2009

a whole neeeew world

Wow so apparently I can blog from my blackberry, but really should have I expected anything less? I'm suprised this thing doesn't wipe my butt and cook me dinner.

So today has been a rough day because not only did we lose an angel, but also a king. It is amazing how the death of a celebrity can affect someone so much, but after watching these people on tv and being invited into their lives by paparazi and documentaries it is hard to not feel like some celebs are almost friends. I actually personally met Farrah Fawcett a few years ago

edit: never finished this one...weird?

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

getting started

I have tried blogging several times in my life, but have never been successful. Completely and honestly, my dream is to be a famous blogger. I am not sure if that is odd, or even narcissistic but I love to write and have people read my words. Maybe all writers are secret narcissists? I mean...writing about your life and the daily happenings as if what you eat for dinner or the weird thing your kid did that day is the most FASCINATING thing to grace the earth is slightly odd if you think about it. What fuels peoples obsession with another persons life?

How the hell did I get through this entire entry so far without using spell check once? I didn't even know I knew how to spell narcissist. I narrate my days in my head like a movie, so I might as well write my thoughts down. Writing really calms me down, it is such a phenomenal escape. Writing is my only "talent", if that is you consider being able to write a talent. I have been told I have a way with words. I may not even be all that good for all I know. Hopefully I can keep this up and make something of this outlet. Even if that something is meeting a few new people, and just quieting my thoughts long enough to sleep.

Basics of my life? 21 years old, female, college student in Texas. Allergic to more things I can count, including dairy (which is a miserable way to go about life to be honest)
I am currently dating the most fabulous man to grace this planet, he is honest, and caring, and totally wonderful. He is such an amazing person and good all the way to his core. Much much MUCH better person than I am and I wonder every day how I got so lucky to have him. We will call him J. I have a seven year old wiener dog who is the light of my life and only child, and a cat who my roommates and I share. The cat is crazy, but honestly fits right in to the nutty life we all lead. I am trying to figure out what I want to do with my life, my interests are cosmetology, writing, photography, and food. If I could somehow combine those things my life would be so perfect I would probably wonder if I was dead and in heaven. I am slightly OCD, and it affects me daily. I like things to be in a very specific order. I cannot think straight if something skews from the pattern. Drinking glass on the right of your plate, condiments in the door of the fridge, movies arranged by genre and title. My boyfriend is driven nuts regularly, but of course does his best to ease my mind and keep my patterns because he loves me. Awww ready to give this a real shot and try to develop my writing into something I can use to support myself when I graduate in a year. Here goes...everything.