Muh Huert

I was watching suit life on deck one time, when this chick bailey said something like this, "he kept baking me heart shaped cookies, and no, i don't mean cute little valentines, I'm talking like four chambers and an aorta"

The logical part of my brain loves this, and thinks its kindof cute.

I mean sure, the part of your body that processes gallons of blood a day isn't typically considered cute, but love that he loves her with his real heart, or likes her, whatever.

It isn't about cutesy valentines and cheap bathroom cologne and a single rose

to me its about real everyday things and truly breathing with someone and a flower shop or a greenhouse built in memorial to your first love who yeah you might hate now but there's a part of you that just wants to keep planting tulips together *no pun intended*

I'm pretty sure that there wasn't any actual real meaning behind this random line off a television show, but random things like that just stick with you i guess, and my heart is full of random things that I hear and feel and forget almost instantly sometimes to come back six or ten years later to remind me of kissing j.r. saxton under the bleachers at my brother's basketball game in the 1st grade or to the time i fell out of a tree and had a scratch from my bellybutton to my chin and couldn't wear a real shirt for three days or even the first time i saw my mom and dad hold hands in lee's marketplace or when my brother's and I would answer the telemarketers phone calls by making fart noises into the phone...

this is the taste of nostalgia for future distant past memories and the wonderful moments i can and will have

these are the moments i am composed of, they are what shapes my heart

peace.

I'm sick of looking back, I want to look forward.

     I wrote this in the 9th grade, I forgot about this night because of memory suppression, then a year later I wrote this to piece together the memory.

I'm sitting in the waiting room. 

"How are you?" They keep asking.

 "I'm fine" I keep hearing myself say. 

Easter has always been a sad time for me, since the time I have been old enough to know what is going on, I've been the only child who still wants to dye eggs, or participate in childish holiday activities. This year Easter was exponentially worse. It was the same Easter night that I awoke to the only sound worse than an infant crying, a mother crying. I wasn't old enough to drive yet, but being the youngest of five, three of whom are brothers, I knew enough.

             There is some sort of dam that humans have, which can hold back liquid hysteria until it's somebody else's problem. It wasn't until I was sitting quietly by myself in the emergency waiting room that the dam breaks and I am flooded with the images.

 Whites. 

Blues. 

All over the floor, 

all over my mother's hands. 

She's shaking. 

She is shaking so hard. 

All over. 

Blue lips. 

Whites, everywhere. 

Blue veins. 

White spots dot the floor I stand on. 

They laugh at me because they know I am helpless. 

Blue eyes, they stare vacantly at nothing. 

White monsters laughing at me from the linoleum.

               I shouldn't be in shock, I knew this was coming, but my brain refuses to allow all the blue and white to process. It's not true. It's not. This isn't happening. But that's not true either.

Everything is fine now. Or at least that's what they tell me. But I still cannot walk into my kitchen at times for fear the ground will be stained white. Again and again, I am brought back to the somber smell of that waiting room, the blue carpet, the blue and white textured walls. They surround me like I am a fugitive.

Sorry for the somewhat depressing post... I don't do well when thinking about the past, my parents misplaced my childhood, it's up to me to begin the future.

A Love Letter To My Shoes. From My Pants.

I have this theory that you can tell a lot about a person by the kind of pants they wear.
While this isn't entirely accurate I have just been thinking about it all week, and so here you go, an insight to pants.

Dear Lefty,

I feel the beginning of your fabric brush the end of me,
and I can't help it,
a shiver runs down my seam.

Your laces have the most beautiful curves,
but I can't stop thinking about how amazing it would be if they came undone,
so that every time our wearer walked you might flip up and skim across the outside of me.

The scattered bits of conversation between the touches,
You tell me you are self conscious because she leads with her right foot.
And how she puts the right shoe on first,
But baby, I don't mind.
I don't care about starting trends, or being a hipster,
I just want to fall off the shelf where I am kept and lay on the floor right next to you.

I can't and won't tell you how jealous I am of the socks,
I don't want to be in the dark,
or breathe in the sweat all day,
and my favorite part of my job is swinging around in the open air,
seeing everything.
But I would give that all up to be right next to your sole.
I would give up the open air just to be that close,
to feel your cotton on mine.

But for now I am just a pant-leg,
and I don't have the opposable thumbs necessary to untie your laces.

So I will stay here,
waiting for the moment when she trades us both for sweat pants and a pair of slippers.
waiting for the moment I can lay with you on the carpet,
and wrap you up in my denim,
and finally,
be still.

With love,
     The Left Pant-Leg



Inspired by Sarah Kay:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BIAQENsqcuM

My life soundtrack...... MUSIC HECK YEAH!!!

    Ok, so in an earlier post I said I wouldn't share my music. I lied, it's  just hard for me for some odd reason.... Also I just want to prove that I listen to normal music as well as awesome dubstep songs :)

     and so *drumroll* the soundtrack of my life!!

      Birth/opening credits: Ivory Road by, King Charles 
    Skate park (5yearold) birthday party: Pony (it’s OK) Erin McCarley
    Montage of growing up: Fox on the Run by, The Monkeys
    First Crush: Flowers in Your Hair by, The Lumineers  
    Ben’s tragedy: I see fire by, Ed Sheeran
    Going to junior high: Eat that Up, It’s good
    for you by, Two Door Cinema Club

   Eric clearly being favorite child: About to Die by, Dirty Projectors
   First kiss: Shake It by, Metro Station or Lightning by, The Wanted  
   Winning first trophy : Kids by, MGMT
   Moving: Flipside by, The Click Five

  Lindsay’s Tragedy: Skinny Love by, Bon Iver
  Not making friends: The Mariner’s revenge by, The Decemberists
 First kidney stone/ pain killers…: Night Vision Binocularsby,Passenger
Making friends: Kill Your Heroes or Supernatural by, Kesha
Going to High school: Loud Pipes by, Ratatat
Losing a few friends: Hear Me by, Imagine Dragons
Debate Trips : Comfort Eagle by, CAKE
Attempting: Otherside by, Macklemore ft. Fences
Being convinced not to: Hey Lady by, Thriving Ivory
First day on ProZac: First Day of My Life by, Bright Eyes or Good Day by, The Click Five
Turning 16: Holding on by, Flume
Lindsay leaving on mission: Happy Birthday by, The Click Five
First date: Show Me What I’m Looking for by Carolina Liar
Haunted Forest/ Halloween: Spaceman- Carnage Festival Rmx by Hardwell
First love: Kiss me by, Ed Sheeran
Rugby games: Glory and Gore by, Lorde

    Last real Summer: Drop the Game by, Flume and Chet Faker
   Senior year: Love Me Again by, John Newman
   First Heartbreak: Coming to Terms by, Carolina Liar or I’ve Told you now by, Sam Smith
  Being Single: Ships in the Night by, Matt Kearney
  My life rocks: Gold on the ceiling by The black keys

      Meeting Jonathan McConnell: More than a feeling by, Boston…unsure what goes on until next point…

      at this point I'm kinda just shooting in the dark, these are future events...
   Montage of dates w/husband?: 500 miles by, The Proclaimers Or Calling You by, Blue October
   Getting  married?: Chasing Cars by, Snow Patrol
   Honeymoon?: To Be Alone With you, Casimir Pulaski Day, SuperSexyWoman all  by, Sufjan Stevens
Writing a book?: Spaceman by, The Killers
Being pregs?: Small Bump, Ed Sheeran
Adoption...?: Sweet Disposition by, Tempertrap or First Day of My Life by Bright Eyes
Growing old?: The Gambler by, FUN.
Death/closing credits : What You Know by, Two Door Cinema Club, or closing time by semisonic
Reincarnation…? : 1940 Amplive Rmx by, The Submarines

     Ok, so this is just what I'm feeling now, but I'm sure tomorrow will be totally different:)

Am I Pretty Yet?

http://wifflegif.com/tags/210162-did-i-do-something-cool-gifs

basically my sister just got home from her mission and I don't actually care if this post is good or not.
love you all.

I might just die.

This morning I started watching the third season of american horror story, which is "Coven" and for those of you who don't know, the main witch finds out her powers by accidentally killing her boyfriend, his death begins with a bloody nose, and as soon as the boyfriend died, I got a bloody nose that didn't end for three hours.
So basically I'm about to die.
I decided it's probably time I wrote about death, or at least what I would like to say If I should die soon.

The less you say, the more weight your words will carry.

Meet insults with laughter.

Don't crash yourself on other people's rocks.

Pain is just a hickey from the universe.

Jk about that last one, pain is just your mind telling you to stop what it is you're doing, so if it hurts, don't cut it out, just stop it.

You don't have to be the best of everyone, but be the better of the two, and don't let anyone get the best of you.

I'm sure as soon as I post this I'll think of more things, either that or I'll die, but anyways... Good bye...

Reasons Why I'm Not Popular

I typically am OK with being alone

i get angry fast

i love my dog more than my family

i only talk about now, the future is too far away

I'm a democrat

I'm a fry sauce philanthropist

i try to be friendly

i actually care sometimes

i don't have an instagram

i wont share my music with you

my act score is spectacularly average

i know too many fun facts, and will prove you wrong

i only sometimes love myself, I cant expect the public at large to do what I normally cant.

Of Broad Rimmed Hats and Second Chances

Can people change? I think they can. I've been watching American horror story all day to keep from crying. what is it that is so appealing to me about not being scared by what freaks other people out? Maybe I just like it when I can focus on other things than my parents fighting. My dad told my mom he can't change.
I don't want to write,
i don't want to graduate
I don't want to go to school
                                 or the doctors,
                                             or to disappoint my coach.

                                                      but I really just cant keep doing this.

pull your sh!t together.
figure it out.
think. think.

no.
sometimes the answer is no.

I'm a Huwoman

Reasons I'm a human:

• I have this stomach that wants me dead
• I turn on the hand dryer before I go to the bathroom at school because I hate the way it sounds when I pee in silence.
• I like to steal things
• I am currently not wearing pants
• I like the way you work it (no diggity)
• I have twenty dollars, and need to fill up my car, but will probably just buy food instead.
• I love my mom
• I can't get over my exboyfriend, even though I dumped him.
• I head bang to songs I'm not listening to, in public.
• I rarely think red headed people are attractive, but I recently met a very attractive young man with red hair, and my brother laughed at me when I told him.
• I sneak out to look at the stars at 3 am in the summer 
• I sometimes do my hair like Legolas to see if anyone will notice.
• I enjoy tackling people, and being tackled
• I have used myself as an example 13 times (now 14) robots aren't this self centered
• I like eating the shells of peanuts.

That's not all, but it's all you get for now :)

www.youtube.com/watch?v=f-8jtBOorpE

www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2K_7-MHt3k

On grocery stores and tom boys

My creativity was reprimanded from me the same day my Mom lost me in Wal-mart because I started building a castle out of ice cream tubs in the middle of the frozen grocery aisle. They told me that I could never have a castle of ice cream, it would melt. My Mother reinforced this lesson by making me pay for all the thawed ice creams she had to pay for, which was nearly three hundred bucks. 

What can I say, I'm a woman of ambition. 

For the next six years, I was laughed at in front of my entire extended family every time someone brought that story up, which was quite frequently. Every time i built a fort, every time I played with Legos, every time I created something remotely close to a castle, I was reminded of my stupid idea to build a frozen delicious house in the middle of a grocery store.

 So I stopped building.

Things just like this happened all the time to me when I was a kid, and every time an authority figure would laugh almost directly at me, and assume I was too young, or too stupid, to think they were laughing at what I did. I wasn't. I understood that my mother talked about me wearing sneakers to church with her friends, she would laugh and say she never taught me to be such a tom boy. They would all laugh, and make fun at the little girl who only played with boys, and wore sneakers to church. One even suggested I might grow up to be a lesbian.

 I sat three feet away, coloring butterflies in a notebook.

My point here is that adults assume that they have something that children don't have, some sort of leverage over them. And while in a lot of cases, this is true, adults should never assume they are smarter than a child. I knew that my ice cream castle would melt, I just wanted to how long it would be before my mother would realize I was missing; enough time for me to build three hundred dollars worth of ice cream castle. As for the shoes, I was told to wear my best to church, for Jesus. My favorite shoes where my sneakers, They were muddy from the puddles I stepped in, scuffed from climbing all my favorite trees. It made sense for me to wear the shoes that I loved best, for Jesus to love them too.

But my mother pressured me into too high heels, and makeup and believing in solid houses, and spending more time and money on the cosmetics aisle than you did with your children. 

So I learned to smile, walk, and talk, just like mother. 

But I am still building my ice cream castle, because I am not my mother.

Dirty Socks and Forgotten Sweatshirts

I see you found my socks. I didn't lose them, I left them on the floor on purpose, you wanna know why? Because that's where the dirty socks go. The floor is where I leave my trash and my laundry and the messy things of my life because I know that once there is room to breathe where my head is I can pick all the things up and throw them out. I can get new socks.
Ok maybe not 100% new, I'm not rich.
But I can send them through the washing machine once, twice, maybe even three times, and get out all the things that make you stare at my socks as If I'm not worth it.
Stop judging me by my socks.
I don't care if they're blue, purple, striped, or dirty on the floor next to the sweatshirt that you gave me... I see you found that sweatshirt, I didn't lose it, I left it there on purpose, you wanna know why? Because the  floor is where I leave my trash, and my laundry, and the messy things of my life because I know that once there is room to breathe where my head is I can pick all the things up and throw them out.
I've thrown it all out. The sock. The old movie ticket. But not the sweatshirt. The one piece of me that smells like you, it's faded and blue, and it's here for me, and why aren't you?

Why aren't you?

The Girl And The Fox

When I was a child, I always wanted to believe that I was something other than what I am. The hope that when I was born i didnt open my eyes for three whole days, or my parents actually adopted me, or maybe i have a twin that will show up one day and take me away from myself... These hopes are what made my childhood so foolish. I thought that maybe, if I wasn't me, I would be more. I scoured the back of my hands, the inside of my mother's ear and the back of my father's knees for the answers,and the only thing I ever

found was this:

 The truth is that everyone wants to be heard, but no one takes the time to listen.

I remember the day when I decided to try listening to myself. As I listened I grew, not out, but up, and I saw what I looked like and for the first time I was finally able to look in the mirror without all the fog of unheard  questions. I remember thinking to myself, I'm pretty freaking awesome, and I am the only person who gets the credit for that.

So I would love it if you want to hear what I have to say, but if you don't care about the girl who loves others more than herself, the girl who believes in her religion but sometimes cusses like a sailor, the girl who can't spell and doesn't really care about grammar enough to spend her time fixing mistakes that belong to yesterday's newsletter. The girl who lays awake at night with a lit candle she's not allowed to have, wondering why the world hasn't spun us to oblivion just yet. If you don't want to meet this girl, than that's okay, both the girl, and the fox, understand enough to know you just need to find yourself before you can search for others.

-The Fox