i am the captain of this ship - eyes, eyelids and kissing lips.

I am feeling intensely today

Everything

From the super secret scary feelings, to the very average

It all feels so... feel-y.

The problem with being a little crazy is that sometimes emotions

even the most simple

are just overwhelming.

The problem with growing older is that you start running out of excuses to behave erratically. 

and it feels like no matter what i do

the world keeps spinning just a little faster

than i can take.

Christmas in July.

"Just who in the fuck do you think you are?"
I wasn't supposed to answer that, I knew that much.  But as I stood there, watching her face contort, her fat finger wagging in my face, I couldn't help but consider the question.  I mean, just who in the fuck was I?  Her question dug deep into me, a twenty year old college dropout.  By day, I was the Customer Service Manager at a hobby supply store.  By night, a blossoming alcoholic.

I wondered if she'd lower her voice if she knew how bad this hangover was?  Probably not.  She didn't strike me as the sensitive type.

The saddest part of this situation was that this woman had no idea who I was.  She was in my face, in front of a line full of people, screaming at me like I'd sucker-punched her whining child.  I would've liked to - believe me.  But I didn't.  All I did was re-read a very plainly written sale sign to her.  Why no, ma'am, the Christmas ornaments aren't on sale, the sign was for the Christmas ribbon.  No, see, the sign was on the aisle with the ribbon.  There are no signs on the ornament aisle.  More screaming, finger waving, spit flying.  Yes, sure, I'll call my manager.

This is my life.

My manager came.  The woman screamed.  We both knew she'd be getting her way.  He rolled over, and I couldn't blame him.  It was his job.  This was our job.  We sell over-priced, tacky, useless decor to middle aged housewives.  Retail zombies.

The woman looked at me smugly as I re-rang her items at the non existent sale price, and a smirk spread slowly across her face as I wrapped each individual ornament with robot-like precision.  She basked in the glory of her victory and I avoided eye contact. 

What she didn't realize, what no one with that sort of over-developed sense of entitlement realizes, is that the customer isn't always right.  They don't always win.  Every time my hand went into that bag with one of her gaudy, glittery ornaments, I squeezed.  The ornament shattered in my hands without a sound.  Ten, eleven, twelve times.  Transaction finished, I handed her the receipt and her purchase.  She sauntered out, head held high, with her bag full of paper and broken glass.  I smiled.

Tonight I'll leave this place, covered in glitter and pieces of styrofoam, and I'll still have no idea who the fuck I am.  I'll take this smock off and I'll be a real person again, rather than a faceless punching bag to the general public.  I'll surround myself with people I love and who love me the same, and that's good enough for me.

Enjoy that one of a kind flamingo ornament, though, ma'am.  Hope it touches you in all the places your husband won't.

And don't forget to have a nice day.

Into the Wild.

I love camping.  Even if it is 110 degrees outside.

"We're so going to end up in a horror movie."

Pre-camping meal in my tiny kitchen.

There are few occasions that call for before-noon drinking.

An adventure into the woods happens to be my favorite.

We found a beautiful spot, right on the water.  Fabulous.

The people who were there before us left the place absolutely trashed.

People can be so disappointing.

Oh, I rear-ended Frank's car on the way home:

1) EMBARASSING.

2) Everyone was okay.  No worries.

3) You couldn't see anything on either car.  A camping miracle?

I've been flakey with blogging.  I have about four "in editing."

My brain has been making lots of short stories, which is something my brain

has not even tried to do in a long time.  Getting them down onto internet paper is

just hard, though.  Anyway, maybe one of them will make it up eventually.

Hope you all had a fantastic weekend.  Tell me something good.

The thing is,

I lost my battery charger for my camera.
And in case you didn't know this already, I'm a total noob, and I don't have a backup battery.
And I have not had time to go pick up a new charger because The Brothers Longley were in town all week and so of course I was playing with them.
Anyway, as it turns out, I am incapable of making a decent blog post (PERIOD.) without some sort of picture to do most of the talking. 

So, I mean, I don't even know what to say to you people.

My brothers' visit was fantastic.  I love having them around.  It's nice to have a little backup when teasing my parents about the hilarity of their worldview.

I finally joined 2008 and bought an iPhone.  So far, it's only solidified my belief that technology is evil and I should have nothing to do with it.  I can't get the damn thing to do the things I want.  I tried to get it to drop off my drycleaning? Nothing!  Oh also, it won't sync to my itunes.  I need Steve Jobs' direct line, please.

Forgive me for being wildly unentertaining, but I mean, you should be used to it by now.
Plus, my head has been everywhere but present-time Arkansas these days.  It's been in NYC of the very-quickly-coming Future, the Sleepy Pineapple Towns of my Fantasies, and a bunch of other places it doesn't belong/isn't quite ready to go.  What I'm saying is, I am way too busy having a million panic attacks a day to cater to all of your blog-skimming whims.  Be gentle with me.

So, since my camera was sitting sad and useless all week, and I couldn't take pictures of the jam session I had with my brother, or my Granddad telling funny stories from the head of the dinner table, or Alyssa passed out in any number of places we discovered her last night, here's an old one.  Because I should at least try to make up for the uselessness of this post by giving you something cute to look at, right?  Right.

This is Jethro, my dads pup.  Don't you want to hug him?

Another Successful Weekend

There's just something about summer time.

The sun finally came out, just in time for a couple days off.

So naturally it was spent dancing and drinking.

My brothers will be in town from Denver tonight, and all will be right

with the world again.

The Cheap Wine Club

The cork in this bottle said, "I'll get to the bottom of this."

I am in love.

I don't particularly like wine.

I do, however, love a good wine drunk.

It makes laying in the floor for two hours giggling and listening

to bad mashups totally acceptable.

Dumping entire pies over into the sink can be explained away

with a simple, "We just polished off our second bottle of wine!"

It's good to be a girl sometimes.  If guys danced around in their

living rooms with each other on a Friday night...well, weird.

So anyway, new hobby!  Gross, cheap wines with attention-grabbing labels.

I am such a whore for clever marketing.

Tell me, Blogpals, what's your favorite wine?

Cat Power is ruining my life.

what is it about a bad day that just makes you want to

 chop all your hair off?

Someone forgot to tell Mother Nature that it's July.  In Arkansas.  This constant rain is completely ridiculous.  I just don't know what to do with myself.. except sleep and cry, and I don't feel like doing either of those things!

Today I am missing things and people, and wanting out of town but not wanting to get out of bed.

I need some sunshine and a vacation.

On Love.

My parents and my moms side of the family (catholics!) on their wedding day. 

Click to enlarge/soak in all the eighties.

On the long, expansive list of topics I have no business commenting on, Love is probably somewhere near the top - as my past experience in that area adds up to nothing more than a few dysfunctional relationships and a handful of nameless flings.  But let's be honest, this isn't the first, nor will it be the last time I broadcast a completely uninformed opinion on an important topic.

Growing up, I was one of very few kids I knew whose parents were still together.  At that time, I didn't see what the big deal was.  All my friends had two of everything.  Two bedrooms, double the clothes, two bikes?  And they were the ones everyone felt sorry for!  I'm over here trying to find places to hide my dolls in my (only) bedroom so that my brothers won't destroy them with sharpies and scissors (maybe if I had another house with more dolls this wouldn't have been so emotionally scarring?), and you guys are getting out of class to go talk to the school counselor?

 "Bullshit!" eight year-old me cried.

Obviously as I got older, I began understanding how special my little dysfunctional family actually was, and how truly devastating it is for a kid (or an adult) to watch their parents' relationship fall apart.  The guilt, the loss of trust - watching the relationship of two people you love deteriorate has to be absolutely heartbreaking.  Seeing the statistics alone has been enough for me to question whether or not true love and commitment are things of the past.

My parents have never been openly affectionate people.  Our family as a whole has never been big on "sharing."  Here in the South, we much prefer you to keep your pansy-ass feelings to yourself, so as to not create any discomfort among the people around you.  As a consequence, Arkansas has one of the highest divorce rates in the country, and probably one of the largest populations of emotional retards as well.

I've watched entirely too many relationships of friends and loved ones crumble due to a lack of communication and understanding (and possibly the fact that people out here get married when they're like, eleven years old, but that's another post entirely).

Love's been on my mind lately.  From thinking about how beautiful and exciting the idea of it is, to being absolutely horrified of the thought of it, I've been really trying to work out my feelings on this feeling.

The thing is, I just don't think it's that hard, if you're ready for it.
If two people enter into a relationship as whole, happy, separate people, there should be no problem in making it last.  I don't believe in a partner as being someone who "completes you."  That's a sign of emotional immaturity to me.  It shows a lack of pride and confidence in yourself, and puts unecessary pressure on your partner to act as some kind of superhero.  Both people in a relationship deserve the happiness of being their own person, as well as the shared responsibility of creating a comfortable, happy place for the relationship to grow.

Conversely, and this is something I've had to learn the hard way, too much pride - being too independent - can be just as catastrophic to a relationship as being too clingy.  As someone who was not raised to verbalize emotion, I've struggled in past relationships in a big way with communication.  Though I very much believe there are some emotions that should be kept to yourself (Ladies, I'm sorry, your dude is not a heartless bastard if he doesn't want to cuddle and cry to the Cat Power station on Pandora), not allowing yourself to open up to your partner is extremely dangerous.  No matter how outrageous you think your feelings might be (and sometimes they are), they still matter.  There's something wonderfully freeing about allowing yourself to feel vulnerable with the person you love.  It makes your bond stronger.

No relationship is perfect, because no person is perfect.  There will always be misunderstandings, sometimes feelings will get hurt.  I'm not after a fairytale romance by any stretch of the imagination.  But despite the statistics and naysayers, I still believe in a true and lasting love.  I believe in sickeningly cute couples with coo-ey babies and a beautiful, unwavering bond.

I believe in a thing called love. (What's up 2004!?  Where are all The Darkness fans?)

Anyway..

Oh, Baby.

This was my date for Saturday night.

Pretty handsome, huh?

I'm thinking about trading Oliver in for one of these.

They smell better, they're cuddlier,  and ooohh, those bellies.

I am in love!

Naked Blogging.

It's been an interesting couple of weeks, I guess.
My roommate moved out.  I am officially a living-all-by-myself grownup.
It's quiet.  And sometimes scary. 
There are perks, though. 
Most of those perks involve getting to do things naked.
Naked guitar, naked dance party, naked vacumming, etc.

Anyway.  Here are some pictures of.. lately.
Because I'm just not in the mood to talk.

Two little cousins and Jethro, at a Father's Day get-together.

Dog park.  These little guys were not fans of the water.