part 1

My resolutions for 2014:

- learn to play guitar (other than the one and only song that I know)
- run a mini
- get website up and running
- take a trip with my dad this fall
- communicate better with my friends
- get tattoo (finally)
- skydive

I've never been more determined to cross things off a list.

This year will kick ass.

I started training to run a mini with my dad in the spring. The training is kicking my ass, so there's no telling what the actual marathon will do. I'm excited to finally get in the best shape of my life though. It's nice to do something like this with my old man, even though he's only 46. I get in these moods sometimes where I just think about my parents as ordinary people and not the two people who raised me. It's weird to think about your Mom and Dad as anything but that, but sometimes I do. I think about what their first date must have been like in high school, or how scared they must have been when I was born, or even how more scared they were when they signed divorce papers. They really have taught me every valuable lesson that I know. My mom is a hard ass, she's mean, she's bitter, but even more than that, she's so emotional. About everything. She didn't tell me she loved me very much growing up, and hugging was never a big thing, but she wept at my fifth grade graduation. She was furious when I broke curfew because she was sick with worry. She called my principal in middle school and totally berated him because I came home with some bruises on my arm, and she thought I was being bullied. She's a spitfire, that's for damn sure, but she loves me in her weird ways. My dad loves me with humor. He always has. He makes fun of literally everything about me, but our witty banter is reality show worthy. Where my mom has taught me to be strong and fiercely independent, my dad has taught me to laugh and be vulnerable.

My writing has slowed down a bit, which makes me sad, but I have made a resolution to always carry a pen and notepad in my purse. I do my best writing on pen and paper, and I used to be that girl who was writing in the airport or the grocery store line, or in traffic (which is dangerous, I know). I'm gonna be that annoying super nerd again.

I WANT TO GO TO A CONCERT SO BADLY. It's been so long since I've been to one. There are so many great artists I want to see. I'm gonna list them in no particular order so I can reference this later. Mumford & Sons, One Republic, Garth Brooks (heard he has a 2014 tour coming up), Keith Urban, The Counting Crows, Kings of Leon, The Lumineers, Phillip Phillips, Jay Z, Beyonce, Justin Timberlake, Red Hot Chili Peppers, DMB, Ben Rector, etc. The list is endless actually. One Republic just had a show in Nashville and by the time I heard about it, the show was sold out of course. I'll get to one eventually!

I'm spending my Saturday night with my Yankee Candle, Spotify, and one large, sleepy puppy. I'm a regular party animal. I think next weekend my goal is to get completely trashed. To the threshold of blacking out. I haven't been really drunk in such a long time. It's actually a really awesome feeling to be completely obliterated on occasion. A bottle of wine will usually do the trick or about 3 Budlight Platinums.

I've been having such a hard time sleeping the last like 4 months. Just horrible nightmares. I have a hard time remembering most of them, but I wake up a few times throughout the night suddenly and in a panic. It's nothing major, just totally weird, and it freaks Cooper out.

My upcoming plan is to get my own website up and running. I plan to invest some money and actually have a legit site and not just some poorly designed blog. My idea is to have it mostly as an online portfolio of my work. Nothing on this worthless blog will go on there obviously, but I don't think anyone has really seen my true work, with the exception of an awesome professor and mentor. My focus in the upcoming months is truly just profile work. I want to really hone in on the craft of depicting someone's story in beautiful essay form. I call it creative non-fiction. Sometime down the line, I'd love to pair with a local photographer to create photo essays to go with my work. We'll see.

I've had this sadness about me lately, and I really can't shake it. No matter how happy I am in the moment, in the pit of my stomach, there's this fist just twisting and twisting. I don't think it's a sign of anything deeper or anything, but there are just certain "things" I guess that prevent me from ever really being truly happy anymore. It kills me that I can't let these go, but it's just recently gotten worse the past few months. I'm in a relationship with a man I love so much, and obviously over a period of 4 years, you start to think about making that walk down the aisle. And everytime I think about it (which really isn't that often), it just makes me so sad. Not sad about marrying the man I love, but sad because at this point, my little brother won't even get an invite, let alone be a part of one of the most important days of my life. It's this sinking thought that never leaves. He has only gotten worse with each passing day, so much so, that there's nothing I can even write about anymore. Most of the time, no one even knows where he is. He's just this ambling ghost of a boy I once knew and loved. God, it's so fucking sad. And here I am walking around every day holding this memorial service in my head for my little brother because I know he's never coming back. He's just so far gone. My dad called today and we talked about it, and this conversation was so different. We both cried, but for a totally different reason than we would have 6 months ago. My dad said to me that he felt like he only had one child now. He said he woke up everyday with just this heavy weight like what it might feel like to be a parent who had lost a child. I told him he kind of had. My youngest brother just turned 14 a month ago, and we all got together to celebrate, and Anthony made an appearance and was high out of his fucking mind. He just stood there, and I was so angry. I hardly spoke to him and left shortly after. God, I'm crying now because it's just so goddamned sad. Anthony was 15 when he nearly killed himself and spent 2 weeks in the ICU. Jake will be 15 next year. As I've helped Jake with school projects, went to various awards ceremonies, basketball games, baseball games, I know 15 will come and go and he will be fine. And normal. He'll go on to get his driver's license. He'll go to his high school prom, and he'll graduate. He'll go away to college, live in a dorm, get a serious girlfriend, and be the success he was destined to be. All of these things Anthony never gave himself a chance to do. I'll be so proud of Jake, just like I always have been. He's such a great little brother. He really is. He'll be a groomsmen at my wedding if the day ever comes, he'll be a wonderful uncle to my kids, and he'll remind me that I'm not a horrible sister. Because every day, I just think "What if?" I've actually gotten so much better about it in the last year, but still the thought haunts me. I would give ANYTHING to go back in time 4 years ago and ask Anthony why he was about to swallow those pills. I've played the scenario in my head a million times. I would literally give my life. If I had the option to only live to be the age of 25, on this exact day, just so so I could go back 4 years to that day, I'd do it without hesitation. I saw him lying there, just puking everywhere and crying and begging me to call an ambulance. And I never thought that day would lead us here. I never thought that day would lead me to Nashville in my tiny apartment by myself crying on a Saturday night because I'm an emotional train wreck and no amount of wonderful things can bring him back.

I really miss my grandpa. Growing up he always called me "Papaw's pretty girl." It's funny because growing up, I definitely was not a "pretty girl." I was chubby with lots of freckles, a huge gap between my front teeth, and always found a way to get dirty. My papaw always found a way to make me feel like the prettiest little girl in the world though, even in my 20s.

My dad is getting laid off. He almost cried telling me about it last week. I can't wait to hug him this weekend. I really miss seeing him and hanging out with him. He makes fun of literally everyone, me included, but he's one of the few people that can always make me laugh when I'm feeling down. I wish I could make him laugh again. There's so many things I'd say to him if I could find a way to put it in words. I love you, Dad.

I just want to get away. I'm literally so overwhelmed that one night last week, I put a song on repeat, put my headphones on and fell asleep crying because I don't know what else to do. Talking about it doesn't do anything, crying is pointless and changes nothing but I just reached  a point where I couldn't stop. I just desperately need a change or I have to be the change myself.

It's been awhile. I read through some of my older blogs, and I'm not even sure if those words are the same person I am today. I finally stopped writing about my brother. It only took four years, but he is finally gone. Gone in the sense that his spirit, who I've known him to be and who I loved, is buried and gone. So, I write now about me. I have finally learned that no one will live my life for me, and I have to stay focused and determined to be everything I've always wanted to be. And with that, I have said my goodbyes and a piece of my childhood is forever gone. 

The South is where I belong. I know that now, and it's wonderful. The culture, the people, the places. It's breathtaking. Nashville is just the tip of the South, and I can't wait to work my way down. For the longest time, I had my sights set on Boston, but I'm thinking a part of me wanted to shed that southern girl part of me. I've embraced it, and my accent and plaid aren't going anywhere. There are so many historic places in Tennessee, and I've learned a lot about the Civil War just by being here. I've always been a bit of a history nerd, but something about living in a new place and wanted to know its story makes me seek it out more. My favorite place in Nashville is actually a trail. It's at a beautiful park called Percy Warner. I've only been on the trail a handful of times, but each time I go, I feel something different. I haven't told anyone about it, because I know it sounds crazy, and I want it to be special only to me. It's selfish not to share such a beautiful place, but it's serenity, and I'm being selfish. 

I have picked up running again. I haven't seriously ran since about my sophomore year of undergrad. I'm so out of shape, but getting sweaty and having a destination is a great feeling and I've missed it. It's also been wonderful therapy. I've made a goal to run a mini in the spring. I'm looking forward to it. I've been seriously slacking on my writing. I started this incredible project, but lost my inspiration pretty early on. It's no excuse. I decided to actually write this project the old fashioned way. So with pencil and paper, I started this journey. Hit a roadblock, a writer's block, but got the notes out about a week ago and reread everything from start to finish. I can tell my writing style has already changed from a few months ago. I've heard that a writer never really writes at their best until their mid 40s. I can see why. My voice is constantly molding and growing, and I'm using this as an excuse as to why I haven't written a best seller yet. 

I'm still figuring out the love aspect of my life. I'll probably always just be feeling around in the dark on this one, but I'm really okay with that. People always say "Oh, but it's so nice to have someone to spend the rest of your life with," and that's true. But I spend my life with lots of people. People who influence me, change me, love me, challenge me, and make me the luckiest person. So, if in the end I'm not married with children and my cape cod on the coast, I think I'll be more than fine. My life has been shared with everyone who has ever been a part of it, and will continue to be. 

Not too long ago someone told me that they loved the "idea" of me. It was unexpected but really made me question things about myself. Who wants to be just an idea? I was confused by the intent so I left it alone. Am I such a faraway "thought" that I'm no more than an idea? Am I that distant and unrealistic to be nothing more than a fictional love? I'm sure this person meant no harm, but it made me think about all of the people I've kept at arm's length. I know no one reads this blog, but I am so sorry to anyone I have shut out. I see people like my grandma who have lost almost everything. The love of her life, her house, her memory, and yet she's one of the happiest people to be around. Maybe it's the loss of her memory that makes her forget her sadness, but her outlook and perspective is so untouchable and pure. It makes me cry thinking about it. Here I sit, a privileged young woman with a life full of opportunity and people who make me feel loved, yet I have such a hard time loving in return. I'm clumsy with my emotions, I'm flighty, I'm stubborn, I'm doubtful, and I'm a pain in the ass. My grandma is slowly losing her life, yet she has more of it in her pinky finger than I have gathered in all my 25 years. 

I may seem like I'm obsessed with my dog, and that is 100% accurate. Cooper is my best friend, my lifeline, my family. I found him last March and my life honestly hasn't been the same since. I've had other pets when I was younger, but this was different. He was my first pet as an adult and the first "person" that depended on me wholly. I'm not really a dependable person, so to have someone like Cooper follow my every step, wag his tail, and stare at me with his huge puppy eyes, made me understand unconditional love even more. He loves me each and every day as if I'm the most perfect person in his world. It's amazing. He sleeps with me every night in my bed, watches movies with me on the couch on rainy nights, and he totally invades my personal space all the time and I act annoyed when I really love it. He's been with me through some of the toughest times in my life, and I have cried into his fur and he knows. We're growing up together, and I think we're the cutest little family. 

Also, I have had the song "Slow it Down" by the Lumineers on repeat for at least the last 2 months. I don't even know what it means, and I don't really care. It just fits me. And I love it. 

HOW TO MAKE IT IN THE WORLD:

1. Never waste time looking for a job when you can invent a job.

2. Never invent a job that does not help solve one of mankind's problems.

3. Never forget, as you prepare your Facebook marketing campaign: Women want to be thinner, and men want to be taller.

4. Never go with what you love. Go with what obsesses you.

5. Never worry about failing. You will fail. Just fail smarter the next day.

6. Never listen to your boyfriend when he complains that you're working all the time. Keep working.

7. Never wear black. Wear red--hot, cheeky, dangerous red. People will be less likely to forget you.

8. Never aim for catchy. Aim for true.

9. Never ask customers what they want--as Steve jobs said: "People don't know what they want until you show it to them."


Best thing I've read in a while. And I read it in an article in Elle Magazine, imagine that.

I never watch the Bachelor, but for some reason I'm watching the season finale. I have no idea what's going on, but I'll be damned if it doesn't make me wanna go to Thailand and fall in love.

I'm sure it's all been scripted and rehearsed, but I hope that one day some man is crazy in love with exactly who I am and thinks I'm incredible.

I really miss the way loving God used to make me feel. It gave me this sense of fulfillment and purpose. It's been ages since I've really thought about my relationship with God. I know I could never go back to who I was then, and I could never love anything so blindly again after everything that's happened. Losing people made me lose my faith. My faith meant so much to me, and I clung to it for everything. For answers, for strength, for endurance, for love, just everything. My relationship with God dissipated, and I began to look for these things in other places. I tried to have faith in other people. I looked for it their actions, their way with words, and even now, I have such strong faith in people and their integrity. I truly believe in our humanity, and that there are people who will always do the right thing even when no one's looking. Those people gave me faith again. I found my strength again within myself. I picked myself up, dusted off, and bit the bullet. I finally realized that I was responsible for my own happiness and so with that realization, came the strength to always push forward to achieve that. I found love everywhere. Literally everywhere. Even though I have a hard time telling anyone those three little words, I fell in love with the world. And I fell hard. I traveled, I took photos of what I saw, and I truly listened to what strangers had to say, and damn, was it incredible. I remember once meeting this little boy in the basement of this old abandoned church because the kids played soccer in the open space when it was cold outside. He was maybe 6 or 7, and he spoke broken English. He had a huge gash on his cheek and it looked like he had been in a fight recently, so I pointed to it and tried to ask if he was okay and if he was hurt. I'll never forget it. "It hurt, my face hurt, but it heal." He grabbed his chest with his small hands over his heart and said "this hurt more." I was 19 at the time, and 6 years later I still remember that little boy because I had loved him. So, even with the absence of God and my religion, I still have these things and I still have my spirituality. But there are days, like today, where I feel that hollowness, and I have to wonder if I could attribute it to losing my faith in my God? I keep saying I want to go to church one Sunday just to see how it feels again. To see how my mind and heart would feel in the presence of God again. I haven't done it yet, but I still marvel at the idea of a God so huge and powerful, and there are times where I just look upward and I have to catch my breath at the sight of it all. And I think in those moments, that He still remembers me, and maybe even misses me. And it's days like today that I miss Him too.

For the first time in a long time, I truly felt like I was in the right place at the right time this morning.

I love that feeling.

Hearing about Randell today has just totally fucked with my head. I met him when I was 18 and had no idea the importance of my own actions. He was 13 at the time and a kid with so much character. I worked with him for 4 years, and still made the drive after graduation to make sure he knew I hadn't forgotten about him. He was always playing basketball and wanted to play in college but said he didn't have the money for that shit. I went to his high school graduation and sat next to his mom while she bawled like a baby because he was the first in their family to have a diploma. God, I loved that kid. So much passion that I never had at his age. Always laughing, always making fun of me, always threatening to kick my ass in a game of 21, and he always did. He never made it to college and ended up working to provide for his brothers and sisters.

His life, and now death, has just been a reminder of how much I absolutely love working with children. I was never cut out to be a teacher, but to even just be surrounded by them everyday doing something you love, I can't even imagine. I love writing, I love reading, and I love publishing, but do I love all of it more than this? I've thought about writing children's books, but even then, it's not the same. All I've ever wanted out of life is to feel like I have had a hand in improving something. From here on out, my career consumes the majority of my life, so I should be able to use it as a vehicle to further my dreams, right? I have no idea what I'm doing with my life, but I would give up a nice paycheck and comfy desk to help repaint an old gymnasium and talk to kids and teens about anything and everything. I guess since I've graduated, I've just lost sight of what it felt like to make a difference in someone's life. I really, really miss that.

Randell, I am so proud of you. I always have been. Thanks for keeping me grounded in my crazy college years and showing me strength and courage. Rest easy, kid. I'll think of you always.

I've had a lot of random things on my mind lately.

I did a lot of driving today, which of course led to a lot of thinking. I drove home for the day and had a few spare minutes to visit Mallory. It's been way too long since I had been, and so I drove the familiar road that led to her grave. It was dead silent except Cooper panting, and I just sat for awhile. The weather was nice for it, and even though I didn't say anything, I think she knew I just wanted to sit with her in silence because it was one of those days. It will never feel weird to me talking to cold, concrete slabs, but today I just didn't have any words. I'm glad Cooper came with me though. Even though he's a dog, I enjoyed his company.

Driving the country roads that lead to my mom's house, and just seeing how beautiful and untouched everything always remains, it just made me feel so incredibly grateful. Despite the obstacles I've had in my life, I have breath in my lungs, I have spectacular friends who get me, I have a very strong family who will always have my back, and I have the freedom to do whatever the hell I wanna do with my life. I'm 25 and have the world at my feet right now. I've just started this beautiful journey of discovering who I am, and so far I'm realizing I'm a motherfucking badass. Alright, that was a bit dramatic, but I really like who I am. I'm not perfect, but I'll be damned if funny people aren't the first ones who go to heaven.

I thought a lot about my dad today. I want to write a biography about him. I know it sounds super biased, and it will be, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Someone asked me not that long ago who was my hero growing up, and I didn't really have one. But if you asked me who it was now, my dad is the greatest example of a hero I've ever seen. A man who's worked with his hands his entire life, a man who has made many mistakes and lives with the consequences every day, but a man who loves with his whole heart and will do anything to make somebody laugh. He's taught me to humbly apologize for things I've done wrong, he's taught me how to shoot a free throw, he's taught me to stand proud for what I believe in when people try to push me down, he's taught me to tell me people how I feel right when I feel it, and he's taught me that no dream I have is impossible. Looking at him now, I know there are things he was never able to accomplish in his life, and I would give anything for him to feel complete with where his life has brought him. If I'm not able to do that, I would hope that I can accomplish enough in my lifetime to make him proud of his daughter. I just admire the shit out of that man, and I couldn't have asked for a better example of how to be an extraordinary person.

And lastly, I thought about my brother. I get so tired of writing about it, but it's how I deal with it. I just remembered so many things from us growing up. I really can't even type them all out without weeping like a baby, but I miss him soooo much it hurts sometimes. It hurts in a way that nothing has ever hurt me before. And I really try to remember that he wasn't always like this and deep down he's still there somewhere, but goddamn it kills. I pray for him often because I'm hoping that there's some kind of sibling psychic ability that allows him to feel that I'm loving him in that exact moment. I know it sounds weird, but it's worth a shot.

I'm really trying to live my life for me now, and so far I'm discovering who I used to be and it's wonderful. Ballet has been a window into this world that used to consume me. I definitely don't have that skill anymore, but just to even be at the barre again brings back a flood of memories. I want to get my tattoo before my courage disappears, and I want to take my dad to get a cowboy hat, and I want to climb onto a big rock somewhere and scream over Nashville, "I FUCKING DID IT. I FINALLY MOVED ON WITH MY LIFE."

Even though I hate going to the doctor and I really hate having my blood drawn, I'm glad I had the opportunity to drive home on a random Wednesday. No matter where I go in this world, they are always my home.

I love Nashville so far. I love the city, the people, the atmosphere, just everything. It fits me so well with where I am in my life. I've met some really great people, and I love my job. My new place is adorable and suits me in my newly single life with Cooper.

I wanted so badly to be away from everything and everyone. Now I have it, and all I can think about is how no one has heard from my brother in weeks. No matter how far away I move, it will never stop. When you care about someone, distance does nothing to lessen the hurt. I've been working insane hours, taking classes, going out for drinks, sightseeing, buying everything on Groupon in hopes that I can start this new life that doesn't revolve around my brother's addiction and the way it's affected my family, but weighs on my heart everyday. I would give up my independence and this new lease on life if it meant my family could be whole again. I'd give up everything, everything. Will it ever stop?