Family

I've always been amazed at the quality of my family. I have a father who is a strong male role-model and has shown me forgiveness, gentleness, and more kindness than I deserve sometimes. I have a mother who has taught me how to love myself and others, compassion, patience, and how to listen to my heart. The combination of their strength and encouragement has made me a better human being. I could never thank either of them enough for loving me so unconditionally and always being there when, literally, no one else was. They've seen me at my best and encouraged me to pursue what I was good at. They've seen me at my worst and helped me put the pieces of my broken life back together.

Larissa and I went to Waffle House tonight to share good conversation over coffee and greasy food, and I started talking about my parents and how grateful I am for their support. Sometimes I take them for granted, but that's only because they've been so present in my life. I would not trade them for anything, and I guess vocalizing that to someone else really made me realize just how important they are to me and how much I value them. Not just as parents, but as human beings. They are wonderful people in addition to being wonderful parents. Seeing them play with Kloee makes me smile because I know someday they will be the best grandparents in the world.

Barack Obama.

I am really sick of this country sometimes.


I am sick to death of seeing "NObama" bumper stickers.
And I'm sick of outrageous claims that Obama's birth certificate isn't real.
And I'm sick of claims that he isn't a citizen of the United States.
He's not a Muslim. He's not a socialist. Go to China for a day and tell me Obama is a socialist, alright?


Dear idiots with these bumper stickers:
BARACK OBAMA IS PRESIDENT. SUCK IT UP AND FIND INTELLIGENT REASONS TO DISLIKE HIM.
You can disagree with his policy choices. You can disagree with his approach to appointing members of his Cabinet. Hell, you can make fun of his above-average sized ears (as long as you don't make racist comparisons to him being a monkey). But stop plastering your vehicles with stupid bumper stickers.

Things like this are intended to get a rise out of people. They're not intended to make an intelligent political statement. They're not even clever. They're silly. And the people who put them on their cars are silly, also.
These bumper stickers are ad hominem. They distract people from intelligent discussions and encourage an "us against them" attitude. We should be in this together. You don't have to agree with everything that a President does, or any other elected or appointed public officials, for that matter. But we're Americans. We should be working together and debating to find solutions to problems instead of insulting each other. Insulting members of the other party does not encourage constructive decision-making but instead divides us.
I love the First Amendment and I support a person's right to put a bumper sticker I find offensive on their car. But I believe the First Amendment should be used to stir constructive conversations and not to be unnecessarily combative.

It's so weird to me that some Americans are SO RESISTANT to this particular President. I didn't like the "I'm really sick of this Son-of-a-Bush" bumper stickers, either, but those were nowhere near as common as "NObama." I mean, he swept the popular vote, but there is a camp that really hates him for seemingly no reason and it concerns me.
You know, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but most Republicans didn't really even LIKE John McCain. He wasn't all that conservative during the primaries, but Republicans jumped on the McCain bandwagon once they saw that their alternative was Obama.




And while we're at it ... I saw a holographic poster of Obama right next to one of Wolverine from X-Men at Wal-Mart the other day. So those who have the posters, the commemorative plate, and the bobble-head ... you're idiots, too. He's not a celebrity. He's a President. Stop idolizing him. He's not Jesus. He hasn't even been all that great yet. You look just as silly as "NObama."

If you wanted a song written about you, all you had to do was ask.

I'm throwing away pictures that I never should have taken in the first place
And it's cold in my apartment as I'm changing all the colors
From the brightest reds to grays
Well it's 3 o'clock on Monday morning
I'm just hoping you're not seeing his face
I've been getting calls in these hotel rooms
Long enough to know that it was him that took my place




It's officially been a year since the break-up. Anyone who knows me at all knows exactly what I'm talking about. The fact that this date, August 31st, is significant to me is simultaneously empowering and pathetic. Pathetic perhaps that I dwell on a such a date and that it took such an event for me to grow as a person, but as far as I'm concerned, any catalyst is just as legitimate as the next.

I'm not sure where I would be if things hadn't fallen into place as they had the past year. I cannot help but wonder how things could have potentially been different or where I would be if we were still together. But in any case, I feel that I have been somewhat empowered. I've learned much about myself and really started to understand what it means to grow as a result of struggle. In all honesty, it's difficult to face the fact that my future is not as sure as it was when I was with him. For example, I'd probably be moving to Kansas City to go to law school and getting married soon if things had unfolded differently. That level of stability is certainly missed. I'm only being honest here. It's my blog ... I do what I want! I don't think what I'm saying here is indicative of any sort of deep-rooted unresolved feelings, but instead a lot of self-reflection and evaluation.



And I hope this makes you happy now
That the flame we had is burning out
And I hope you like your pictures facing down
As even broken hearts may have their doubts




It's a little sad to admit, but I feel like he really took a part of me with him. I was a heinous bitch a year ago (a selfish, insecure, unstable heinous bitch ... if we're going to call names and get really specific here), it's true and I definitely feel I have left a lot of that behind, a lot of my motivation has dwindled. I used to be so passionate about things and now it seems that I am very apathetic. I don't mean to be, but for so long I was told not to feel because my feelings were exclusively misery, malice, and pain. I couldn't listen to my heart--my heart was telling me to lock myself in my room and cry for days on end. I did that sometimes, but life doesn't stop just because you feel like your heart has. I had to train my mind to control my actions. You lose emotion that way, including happiness. And I started to associate happiness with sadness, because you cannot experience one without the other ... as a consequence, I just stopped feeling. I cried every day for months. Literally, months. I was sick of the headaches and stuffy noses.

It wasn't a phase. It wasn't something to get over. It wasn't something time would just take care of for me. It was shitty and there is no other way to describe what happened. I screwed up really bad and he left. But I really did love him and he was right: I didn't appreciate him until it was too late. I learned the hard way that you can't change someone's heart and sometimes there is no explanation for the way people treat you. I learned that trust is valuable and something to be earned. I learned that you can choose to mentally strengthen yourself to guard against painful experiences if you only have the desire. I learned that sometimes you will be alone, sitting in your room listening to Jimmy Eat World with nothing but painful memories and "I'm sorry"s that were never vocalized to the person you felt needed to hear them. I learned to forgive myself for my mistakes, which is the hardest thing for me (especially because I am such a perfectionist).




And I'm burning all the letters
Hoping that I might forget her and the bad taste
That she left when she was leaving me
A life of barely breathing as she walked
Out of this place




I wouldn't change it.
It took me so long to get to this point, but I'm here.



And you dropped the note and we changed key
You changed yourself and I changed me
I really didn't see us singing through this
Then you screamed the bridge and I cried the verse
And our chorus came out unrehearsed
And you smiled the whole way through it
I guess maybe that's what's worse




I am on a more admirable quest to discover myself and learn how to love others more than myself. Even if I fall short sometimes, I am learning and I would never have looked so closely at myself if this hadn't happened.




And I'm taking all your memories off the shelf
And I don't need you or anybody else
So take a look at me
See what you want to see
When you get home





I realized that I made mistakes, too. I stopped running from them and made a pact with my soul to face them, dress the wounds and let them heal slowly. I am taking life slowly, with less desire for control over every detail, and have finally kept my own needs and desires in mind. Sure, it still hurts sometimes, and I've got plenty of work to do in the "me" department, but I'll probably always be under construction.








Take me home
I'd rather die than be with you
Take me home
You have a problem with the truth
Take me home
Because this happens every time
I knew it would. . .
I knew it would. . .

Back to school. Back to school. To prove to my dad that I'm not a fool.

I woke up to my alarm clock blaring at 7:30 this morning (though I did hit snooze twice). I reluctantly rolled out of bed, did the morning routine of hygiene and beauty, donned my three-year old green back-pack, and drove to school.

I'm a five-year college student today.
Which makes me a second year senior, I think. I'm not really sure.

I'm graduating in May. I don't know where life will take me post-graduation, but I think I'm continuing my education when I'm done.
The important thing is that I'm starting school this year ready to make good grades, study, and do something right for once.

I went in to Larson's office to see how things are going for the debate team. I guess it hasn't quite hit me yet that I am not competing this year. Things have changed. William Jewell doesn't have LD this year and Webster isn't hosting a tournament, either. Damn. I'm going to miss the team, the competition, and the extra work. But alas, I will find a new focus and motivator, and I think it might actually be myself this time.

Wish me luck!

Recently, I've started talking with three specific individuals who caused a great deal of pain and turmoil in my life as a college student.

Within the last year, I've realized that life is far too short to burn bridges and lack forgiveness.

People screw up. The important thing is all three of these people have had the courage to send me some sort of direct apology, via the internet or the telephone. I think it takes a lot of courage to admit mistakes and to right the wrongs and pain you have caused someone. I would be a sad, pathetic, and ridiculous human being if I could not forgive these people.

I don't like to move forward with my life with grudges intact. There are a few people who I have wronged, also. I can only hope that one day they will accept my apology. There are no hard feelings from me toward any of these people.

Memories of a Brother

I learned very early the importance and value of my family. I was lucky because my older brother wasn't like most other older brothers. He didn't really pick on me. I loved being outside and getting dirty and playing with the boys. I played football and baseball with them and felt like one of the big kids. Wesley is only two years older than me, but I thought he was the coolest person on the planet. I wanted to do everything that he did. I played softball because he played baseball; I even ended up debating because he was a debater in high school and I wanted to be just like him.
Some of my fondest memories involve Wesley. I remember when I was really young, my dad used to read to us before we went to bed. The boys shared a room, so Dad read to us there. I remember laying on his chest next to the floor vent while Wesley and Jordan laid in bed. I always fell asleep there and my dad would carry me to bed and tuck me in. Sometimes, Wesley would read to me. I remember when he went to school and I had to stay home, I always got so excited when he came back. The bus stopped at the end of our block, and as soon as I heard it I would run down to the bus stop and walk Wesley down the block to our house. I always wanted to hear about all the exciting things he did while he was at school. His teacher was Mrs. Kellenburger, but for some reason I thought her name was Hamburger. Sometimes I just called her "Mrs. Ham." I remember being pulled around in the wagon all around our neighborhood. I remember slipping notes under my brothers' door that said "You're a poophead!" and thinking it was the best, most clever insult anyone has ever come up with. Their retort was always equally as clever. I remember playing with Legos and playing Nintendo. The walls in our house were pretty thin, so you could talk to someone on the other side. Before bed, Wesley and I would talk to each other and sometimes knock on the walls to different patterns the other was supposed to repeat. We both had holes in our walls where the doorknob hit and went right through. Matching holes. So we would throw things into the other room or be obnoxious and yell while the other person was busy.








I don't know what happened.

I remember very vividly the morning I realized that something had happened and Wesley and I weren't close anymore. I was watching Barney, actually. Which is lame, I realize ... but the "I love you," song came on and I got all sappy. It made me sad to think that my brother didn't think I was cool anymore. He didn't talk to me anymore. He didn't want me hanging around when he friends were over (granted, I was obnoxious, but he never used to care). He wouldn't give me rides to school when we were in high school. I had to ride the bus. I still thought the world of him, but that's a very difficult thing to articulate to someone, especially when you feel like they don't want you around.
I love my brother so much. I think he's brilliant, hilarious, and has a lot to offer. We still don't have the relationship that I wish we did. I have friends who are really close to their siblings and it always makes me very jealous because I never had that relationship with Wesley.








Wesley signed with the Navy.
I was upset.
I'm happy that he's getting his life back on track because he's too smart to stay where he is. But I always wanted a relationship with him and now I feel like I'll never have one. That's why I'm upset. I wish him luck and hope that he finds himself.
But I will miss him. I have for years.

I finished High Fidelity and it was wonderful. Like Invisible Monsters, it was a life changing book. I really, really need to read more.

I have a lot to write about and I'll write a real blog soon, but for now, the rundown:
I work at Rangeline Pizza Hut as a delivery driver and Johnny Carino's as a server. I love both. Working two jobs has been especially difficult this week--I worked 13 hours straight yesterday between the two and I work all day again today. I really wouldn't trade it for anything, though. It's so good to have money again, but it's also good to have two jobs I enjoy. I guess I'm lucky that Olive Garden didn't want me back. I'm making about as much money as I did there, and I'm much happier.
This summer has been so good. Exactly what I needed after Jefferson City.

A final note:
I will dance to the song "I'll Follow You Into the Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie at my wedding.









If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the "NO"s on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you
When you soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark