I forgot that I had a blog until today. The transition from going, going, going, going, going, going, going to blah blah blah apparently hasn’t helped my brain. I’m worse than I originally thought at alerting the world about my every action (~OMG I JUST WALKED THROUGH THE DOORRR~) and blogging my insightful thoughts on life (“it’s not about how many breaths you take…it’s about the moments that take your breath away”). Oh well, it looks my personal expectations for recording rad and hip things didn’t turn out as planned… I may have let myself down, along with my one million followers (subtract one million to calculate my actual number of followers) but I’ll just blame it on summer. Being away from school has made me feel like I’m reverting back to a past life. Almost as if I’m back in high school… which is WEIRD and TERRIFYING. Take me back to UT, ASAP; before I spurt more nonsense all over the internet.
This is my little/best friend, Ashley.
Let’s just all admit that 7th grade was not a year of happiness. Nothing went well. And although I was a good 7 inches shorter and wider than I am now, many things contributed to my social skills, (or lack there of) and me being completely athletically challenged. Let’s begin with my friends; that way we will immediately pour salt in the very deep wound that sums up my associations with real humans my age in middle school. I won’t go into great detail, but let’s just say I ate in my mom’s art room everyday for lunch. It was the easiest way to avoid social contact. And as everyone who has ever watched Mean Girls knows, the cafeteria was a vile place. While I was still wearing high, thick, white socks and learning what a dress was, other girls were wearing blue eye shadow and sequin belts. I mean, really the only thing I was worried about was if the rubber bands on my braces showed the school colors.
The boys were wild animals. Not that I talked to them (I don’t think I spoke to anyone of the male species besides my dad/brother during my middle school years), I just knew. I was assigned a bottom locker with a boy above me. Him “accidently” dropping his books on me was probably the closest contact I had with the opposite sex. Eventually though, I would get an invitation to a dance held at the local REC center. Those were the times I would try eye shadow; it never worked and was actually pretty terrifying, looking back. (Also, who the heck invented the denim skort? That doesn’t go with anything). Despite spending the majority of my time locking myself in the bathroom during slow dances (God forbid I have to dance with a boy), I was a regular at the food table of every dance there ever was. I also enjoyed having sophisticated conversations with the parents of the spawn that were grinding in the background. I know, you don’t have to tell me I was the cool one.
Class was the only place that was semi comfortable for me. I sat in the front, just so I wouldn’t have to look back at the kids throwing paper airplanes across the room. I went to after school tutoring, like the good student I was, and did UIL in my free time. My teachers were my best friends.
Middle school coaches on the other hand, were a completely different story. It’s extremely difficult to compete when you’re everything but athletically inclined. I decided I would try out for the volleyball team. My dad played college football and was very athletic so I’m thinking, with gusto and confidence: why not? …It was pretty pathetic. I served the volleyball like it was an 80-pound pumpkin- aka; it wasn’t even close to clearing the net that seemed 6 miles away. No coach wanted me; I was somewhat fat and hopeless. Basketball was the worst attempt at athleticism of my life. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the sport (and can name every UT basketball player’s stats), but my uncoordinated body never seemed to understand what it was supposed to do. I was an extremely loyal bench warmer on the “B” team. I made a total of two baskets 7th and 8th grade year combined. Those were most definitely the highlights of my career.
I spent the day wishing it was over. I couldn’t wait to escape the quite unnecessary chaos that was middle school. Then high school came and went, and my hard worked paid off. I grew a ton after 8th grade year and although it took me 5 years, with great help from my parents driving me all across Texas for lessons, I ended up starting on the Varsity volleyball team my senior year of high school, and to top it off, we almost made the state tournament. I placed at the state UIL contest multiple times. I graduated with a select few wonderful friends. Now, I attend the best University in the entire world and I couldn’t be happier. It’s nice that I can finally put middle school behind me. Let’s just ignore the fact that I still can’t talk to boys/avoid them at all costs, spend most of my time at the food table and still don’t really know how to properly wear eye shadow. But don’t worry, I finally got a sequin belt, it was just a few years late.
I spend my days at home, reading Better Homes & Garden Magazine, Scrapbooking and spending time on what I should make my family for dinner. No, I am not a mother (HA), but I’m the oldest child, and I don’t have an official job currently, which means that I am immediately awarded the prize of “mother when the real mother is working on something more important”. Also, I’m completely incapable of relaxing, therefore, I somehow convince myself that being a faux mom is the solution to my boredom.
I spend my afternoons shuttling my younger brother around, helping him sell tickets for boy scouts, and then end up taking him to Whataburger because he’s “starving.” I spend the rest of my time being an OCD human being and cleaning/vacuuming any sort of item in our house that may or may not be out of order. At this point, I just wish I had homework.
Reasons I feel like I fit the profile of a mother:
- I cook breakfast, dinner, and sometimes lunch.
- I help both my brother and sister with school projects
- I enjoy drinking black coffee in the morning
- I am in HEB at least 5 times a week
- I spend my Friday nights reading adult fiction novels
- I know the plotline of The Bold and the Beautiful (Hope really needs to ditch Liam).
- I eat vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup when I think no one is watching
- I enjoy anything playing on the “Super songs of the 70s” Radio Station
Writing this makes me realize three things. One, college has taught me that handling more than myself usually doesn’t work out too well. Two, maybe all of this just means I’m slowly turning into my mother. Three, that I’m not 100% sure that I would want to be a mom, but if I was, I would be a freakin’ cool one. Don’t worry though; I swear that I won’t end up on 16 and pregnant. Mostly because I’m 19, and I don’t think they accept people over the age of 16, and also, if I do end up on a TV show, it would probably be Never and Pregnant.
“I’m not like a regular mom. I’m a cool mom.”
I’ll start this off by saying:
WHO DOESN’T WANT TO BE BEYONCE?
She’s perfect, as perfect as any human being can be at least.
I’ve never been one who has been celeb obsessed (I actually assumed Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt have been married for like, 80 years- in retrospect I was wrong) but I DO LOVE BEYONCE, and I know quite a bit about her.
If I had to pick the main reasons I would love to be Beyonce, besides all reasons, they would be that:
-She can sing like an angel. I can sing, but not like her. She can cover about 3 octaves more than the average human being/songbird. Have you heard “Love on Top”? That has to be the highest any popstar can sing.
-Her songs have variety. I know, because I have listened to every single one of them, way too many times. I have to put Spotify on privacy just because I’m almost embarrassed how many times I listen to her over and over and over and over and over and over.
-She’s in a wonderful relationship (with JAY-Z, they’re both rockstars) and she just had a child (who will be a rockstar) and she still looks wonderful…that doesn’t happen to many people.
-She can prance around with no makeup on. I mean, so can I… but when I say “no makeup” I actually mean a little foundation, powder, blush and a tiny hint of mascara.
-She’s a good person. I mean, I haven’t personally met her (even though I feel like I have), but I can tell. I get much better vibes from her than from keSha. Obviously.
-Have you heard “I Was Here”? That’s enough of a statement for me.
Ok, take a look and tell me you can’t love her. SHE IS HERE. And she’s irreplaceable.
It’s the equivalent to a lullaby.
Transitions are difficult.
I mean this literally, in that moving a years worth of clothes, furniture and other random stuff out of a dorm is somewhat of an exhausting experience. But, also, making a mental transition is difficult too.
The thing is, when you finally get used to where you’re at, happy where your life is, you’re thrown a curveball and have to leave, have to move out, have to do something completely different.
That’s just the way it is.
It’s sort of unfortunate, but I suppose that’s what keeps life interesting. And it’s truly comforting to know that God will be with you every step of the way. He will keep you strong, and help you feel prepared for whatever life may throw at you. Especially if it’s moving from Austin back home, to the middle of nowhere.
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” -Joshua 1:9
Twitter Commentary feat. #blessed
Sometimes when I read an irrelevantly worded #blessed tweet, I think of those ridiculous math problems that no one can solve (Sally had one dog, and her grandfather is 75 years old. On average, how many cucumbers does her uncle have growing in his garden? Use the equation: x-46y=x). AMIRIGHT? Anyway, here are some irrelevant examples of #blessed tweets.
I picked a flower today. #blessed
Yesterday, I ate four pickles while riding on a unicycle #blessed
luvin lyfe #blessed
That guy looks weird #blessed
Nike is my favorite brand #blessed
This cake tastes awesome. #blessed
LiKe OmG I ThInK OnE DiReCtiOn Is ThE BeSt BaND eVARR!!!1!! #blessed
I really enjoy shopping in HEB. #blessed
To each his own.
what does this button do?
this isn’t right
I would like to let everyone know from the very beginning that this is not a serious blog. I’m not going to rant to the internet world about random people, my love life (or the nonexistent one) and/or all of my hopes and dreams. I’m just going to write about whatever random piece of information is on my mind at the current moment. And be warned, my followers, that could be absolutely anything.
And by everyone, I mean probably no one.
I don’t have a line of followers waiting to hear what I have to say; I’m most definitely NOT that interesting.
If there’s one thing anyone needs to know about me, I tend to speak in all caps quite a bit.
I hope everyone doesn’t hate me. If you do, just don’t read my blog. KTHXBAI.