642 Things to Write About: 3

Prompt: Everyone was laughing, except you.

I hate that feeling. That horrible, sick curling feeling the bottom layer of your stomach.  That feeling you get when your cheeks turn from their normal ivory to that deep, embarrassed red.  The kind of red that turns certain spots of your face splotchy and even makes your ears go red.  Your fists shake, finger nails biting into palms to keep yourself calm, to keep yourself from lashing out.  It’s that feeling where you know that you’re the butt of the joke.  The punchline.  The effervescent hilarity, that laughter that surrounds you is because of you.  And no, they aren’t laughing with you.  Rather, they are laughing at you.

It’s a more frequent occurrence that not to be the of the joke for me.  I’m somewhat funny, but the jokes that she keeps throwing around are distinctly un-funny.  They are hurtful and while everyone else laughs at my expense, I sit there with a tense smile on my face.  They are drunk and I am not.  This shouldn’t be an excuse, but my brain is desperate to keep a tight leash on my ever dying control.  I am normally the butt of one joke or another.  The reasoning behind the jokes are simply my own features.

I’m a klutz.

I’m blonde (and therefore less intelligent than everyone else in the room).

I’m short.

I’m kind of a sexual deviant.

I don’t drink much, if at all.

I have an obsession with books and literature.

I’m somewhat messy.

I have a real problem with anger and holding grudges (especially against ex boyfriend).

I’m a serious band geek.

While I believe all these traits to be normal, admirable, or simply who I am, others are not so kind.  One of my roommates, the bully of the group, continues to make blonde jokes, a few of our friends chiming in.  The jokes turn into sexual based ones and then she lashes out at my problems with my ex boyfriend.  I sit there and just breathe, holding on tightly to my control.  It is a losing battle.  If I don’t do something soon, I am guaranteed to blow up at some one in this room.  There is a part of me that would like nothing better than to do just that, now is not the time or place.  If I am to exact any form of retaliation, revenge, or similar ideas, I’d prefer my house to be completely sober before I do anything malicious.

Instead of screaming and calling them every nasty name I can think of, I stand up and tell everyone I’m going for a walk.  I’m desperately in some fresh air.  One of my roommates, whom has just appeared from her own room, agrees to accompany me.  With  a casual wave, I go to stand outside.  It’s cold, biting cold.  I’m glad to be wearing my winter coat and boots.  Tugging the hair tie from my wrist, I wrap my blonde hair into a bun, keeping the strands out of my eyes.  the cold does little to calm me down, but it does seem to make my anger settle into a stasis.  When my one roommate joins me, I hear fleeting jokes at my expense through the doorway.

“What the fuck is that girl’s problem?  Just cause she’s a blonde nympho doesn’t mean she has to be a bitch too!”

“She’s just a drama queen.  She’s probably doesn’t have enough brain cells underneath all that hair to really be too angry.”

“She just needs to get laid!”

The laughter is raucous and it hits me like a knife.  My roommate with the red hair joins me and she hands me a pack of TNT poppers.  These are my own brand of anger management.  We walk a ways around the parking lot until we are far enough away from my building to yell.  I swear like a sailor and start my war path.  She listens and we throw poppers on the ground intermittently.  The fire and the smoke blaze up and put themselves out in an instant.  It’s a release of some form.  I complain for the better part of an hour while my roommate listens and comments.  I’m not sure how many loops we’ve made around the building adn the parking lots near by, but it’s approaching one in the morning when we return.  The apartment seems quieter and I am feeling better.

Walking in, I hear the muted sounds of alcoholic puking.  I smile.

I wonder who has the last laugh now?

Starting off right

So I weighed myself this morning… And I only weigh 137.2 lbs! Which is a lot better than I was expecting, I was much more prepared for a gain rather than a loss…

Well, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I’m definitely excited and I feel really good about myself right now. Let’s hope it continues this way for a while.

Today is going to be nice. Spending the morning into the afternoon with the boyfriend and spending the evening with some of my guy friends. My guy friends are like my brothers, I love them so much. I also get to try out my new make up brushes today! And wear new boots and new watch!

Expect a other post in the 642 things to write about today, as well as an update on my list of people to include my guy friends. Oh and a post on how I my ex messaged me last night.

Have a great day guys!!

What did Santa leave me under the tree?

I guess I’ve been a good girl this year because good old St Nick left me some pretty nice things under my tree! I got

  • An iPod touch, generation five to replace my brick ( an old classic iPod from 2005 or so)
  • A make up bag and brush set ( I didn’t have brushes )
  • four really great sweaters ( a black turtle neck, a gray and turquoise striped one with a cowl neck, a black cowl neck with a belt and short sleeves, and a gray v neck one that is loose)
  • Shampoo, conditioner, body wash (it smells like acai berry)
  • Socks!!! ( I am a big fan of warm, woolly socks)
  • Tall brown leather boots ( they are gorgeous)
  • A fossil watch ( because I needed a new watch)
  • The journal of Impossible things and a sonic screwdriver pen (my dad got me that. It makes me really happy he got me something Doctor Who related because he likes old Who and I like new Who and it makes me really happy to see that he did that. )
  • A mug that says Royal Highness on it
  • Giftcards to iTunes, Barnes and Noble, and Ulta

That is it I believe. If I realize I have forgotten anything, I will edit the post.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Back into the swing of things

So, since I got a new iPod touch for Christmas, I have decided to jump back on the band wagon for weight watchers. I have been doing weighty watchers since May. Around October, I started to get lax. Since then it’s all sort of been going down hill. I haven’t gained much of the weight back (I lost about twelve pounds and have only gained back two or three of those pounds.)

Now I am determined to fret back on track and lose the rest of the weight ( about eight to twelve more pounds).  I am going to do my best and try my hardest. Be warned, I’ll most likely keep writing about it on my blog, so be prepared for some bitching, complaining, and a lot of good and hopeful statements.

Here I go on another wild adventure! I

642 Things to Write About: 2

Making Soup:

While she was no culinary genius, Tabby did her best to cook with the simple instructions that he mother had given in the recipe.  The broth spilled into the large pot with a careful hand as she smelled the aroma that permeated the room.  A splash of the broth caught the edge of her shirt, making her swear.  It wasn’t hot, but she did not want to go find another top.

“Son of a bitch!”  her voice, while like bells, sounding rough.  One of her roommates popped out to see if she had burned herself.  Tabby had a tendency to injure herself.

“Calm down, I’m fine.  I just an apron.”  She debated between the three that rested neatly on the hook on the outlying wall of the kitchen.  Tugging out the black apron with the words ‘spooning leads to forking’, she tied it to herself to avoid anymore spills.  Back to the pot, she watched as everything came to boil, the whole apartment filling with warmth.  It felt so good to be cooking for people, her roommates and one of her friends.  She wasn’t the best cook, her abilities limited to breakfast foods and a few other odds and ends.  However, this recipe was warm and very healthy, so she thought it would be appropriate for the gathering of friends.

diligently, she dropped in ditalini, lemon juice, herbs, and watched as the whole pot came to a boil.  she turned up the catchy Taylor Swift tune as she danced in the kitchen, listening for the door.  When the knocks came, she slid on her fuzzy socks to the door and opened it.  Her friend walked in, commenting on the warmth.  As her roommates filtered out of their rooms, they too made noises of appreciation for the food.

Sitting down, she felt like she was home.

Maybe she was.

642 Things to Write About: 1

Prompt number 1: ReWrite your college application essay from today’s point of view, answering the question: “Is there anything else we should know?”

(As a point I did not write my college application essay that long ago)

Is there anything else?  Well… There are one or two tiny things that may be of interest to the college I choose to apply to.  In my essay I wrote about how the college should admit because I am well versed, good at understanding, versatile, and good with children.  I wrote that essay because it is all true and because it’s persuasive in a way that let’s you know I really want to get into this school.

However, there is something else you should know and I did not get to write on my application.  While I am applying to this school to become an education major, I also have another secret desire.  I do love kids, don’t get me wrong.  I mean it.  I love them to death.  I love to teach them and now I know that I am good at it.  Teaching is safe, reliable, good.  The world is always going to need teachers.

If I could apply to be a double major, my second degree would be in writing.  Creative writing.  Let’s face it, I couldn’t try to be an english major.  English majors can do all fo these things like analyze books and make that make sense.  I can’t do any of that.  I just like to read.  I love to write.

I have a strange passion for writing.  It started when I was little and my mother gave me a diary.  I would write in it all the time.  Once I got to high school, I wrote poetry and entered a creative writing class.  While a lot of my poems were sexually charged, it was clear I had some form of potential.  It felt good to write.

So, in your question if there is anything else you should know, it’s that I am going to write.  I may not major in it, or even minor.  I will take a class here and there and I will love to write.  I’m always going to love to write.  Even when my muses won’t come out and even when my writer’s block turns into a disease, I will still love it.  I will also never truly let it fly.  I am too afraid of not being able to be an adult by not having a stable job.  The world will always need teachers.  Writers are something the world needs, but not always wants.  I want to write.  I want to leave my mark, everlasting in paper and ink.  I want to push the boundaries and write something thrilling, daring, insane, beautiful.  I’m scared too.  I’m scared of the rejection and scared of not being able to do it.

So, here I will tell you that I am choosing the safe option.  Still an option I love, to teach.  There will always be this love to write though.  I just thought you should know.

Move out of the way Writer’s block

So, I have been having some nasty writer’s block as of late.  It happens.  Sometimes the muse just isn’t in me or sits there, taunting me.

However, I think I may have found an answer to my block.

It’s called “642 Things to Write About” by the San Francisco Writers’ Grotto.

My mom got it from a friend of hers but she’s not really the writing type.  So… she regifted it to me while she was wrapping presents.  And now…

I have lots of things to write about.  I’m going to try and write them in the book first and then write different versions here on wordpress.  Let’s see how this goes….


And yes, I am super excited about this.  Super fucking madly happy excited.

Going nuts

So, my father seemed to be doing ok after his surgery yesterday.  He was eating and walking a little.  He wasn’t feeling great a little while ago, but seems to be doing ok now.  Stupid antibiotics.

Ahhh… tea is ready.

OK, well let me elaborate on my past few days.  I’ve been out with the boyfriend a bit.  I’m excited about that.  He’s been really nice to me and I really like him.  He’s taking me book shopping for my Christmas present.  🙂  If any of you know me, I’m a big book fan.

I’m also seeing a few friends from back home.  I can’t believe how much I missed them all.  They need bios on here.  Ok, that’s next on the list.

Im also just going crazy.

I hurt my back babysitting.  My head hasn’t stopped hurting for days and I’m really excited for Christmas.  I’m excited for everything.

I’m sorry I haven’t been posting.  I usually find it easier to just read this time of year.

But don’t think I’ve forgotten you my bloggers.  I love you all dearly and hope that your holidays are merry and bright.


The passage of time in children

I know I see the passage of time best through books and photographs of days, months, years before my time.  I see progression as time and all of non linear wibbly wobbly timey wimey ball of stuff.  However, tonight kind of rocked my world, tilted my axis so to speak.

Tonight I went babysitting.

The two boys I babysit are kids I have known for most of their lives.  One if six and the other is four.  I nannied for them this summer and I really enjoyed seeing them everyday, even if they did drive me up a wall sometimes.  Seeing them everyday made me aware to plenty of tiny changes in their life, especially just normal little ones.  I watched as they got through camp and as they interested with all their friends.  I watched them learn to ride bikes

The last time I saw them it was August.  Now….

THey both got taller and one has glasses.  They both still smile and hug me, but I could see the passage of time on them.  It was terrifying.  It was wonderful.

Both boys are growing up and while I may want them to stay little for longer, they can not.  Watching them grow up is a privilege.

I sound like a sap, god dammit where is my boyfriend when I need a hug?

Ugh, ok any other things I shouldn’t mention.  Dad had surgery today and he is doing better.  The house is tense and I want to to be Christmas so that the cheer infects every one and has them smile.  I want to spend another night in my apartment bed with my boyfriend snuggled up next to me.  I want to go back to my pre schoolers and teach them.  I want to see my two favorite boys everyday.  I want all this happiness because the house is crazy and happiness balances out crazy.


Instrumental music

There is something magical about the quality of instrumental music to me.  It is something I call akin to magic.  It feels like magic, untempered and untapped, in this vast reserve.  It’s usually instrumental music I turn to when I am in search of something to inspire me.  Each time I listen to it, it makes me feel alive and warm and delightful.  Some people (couch my ex) say that it has no tune.

I do protest.  Simply because there are no lyrics does not mean there is nothing to sing along to!  You just have to hear it, you have to let it come to you.

That sounds utterly mad.  But I think it’s beautiful, this music.  It makes me completely at ease.

It also gives me things to write or read to.


One of my favorite things is Instrumental Music.