R.I.P. Angel

I don't really know what to say here.

We had to put my cat to sleep earlier today. She's been very sick, beyond help.
But she was 14 years old; she lived a good life.
A comfortable life.
Hell, more than comfortable. She was the queen of our lives.
Angel dictated everything and anything that went on in our house.
Once, my parents even returned a bedspread because she didn't like it.
Yeah.
It feels like our little kingdom is without it's queen now.
I miss her sassiness more than anything.
That's the perfect word for her.
Sassy.


Rest in Peace, sweetheart.

emails to remind me that heartbreak is a universal thing, and that best friends are our soulmates.

{via.}

From: Me
To: Cyndi

He told me he loved me. That's why this is upsetting me so much. He told me he loved me one night when I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up because he was stroking my hair and he whispered it in my ear because he thought I was still asleep. He's the first really good guy who has loved me who I actually had feelings for back (since the high school version of Mr. Man; let's face it, Mr. Man kind of sucks now). He's the first guy that ever shared my political views, that would drop everything and travel if he could, that opened doors for me, that gave me his jacket when I was cold, that wanted to do mundane things with me like go grocery shopping just because he got to be with me, that would rub my back without me asking, and that not only took my dark past in stride but let me hear about his secrets too. He was the Northeastern blonde-haired blue-eyed boy that I've always thought I'd end up marrying (you know, if Rupert Grint was unavailable). He said 'coffee' with that cute Yankee accent and literally gave me goosebumps and made me weak-kneed when he kissed me. Do you know he's actually the first guy that used the word 'beautiful' to describe me? And 'sexy.' No one else has either called me those things -- I get 'pretty,' or 'hot,' but never 'Beautiful.' And yet we could still totally geek out and watch old reruns of Inuyasha together and study together somewhat diligently and fall asleep on the couch cuddling.

I know I said I was going to be careful, that I'd guard myself, that I wouldn't fall for this one. But fuck, by the time I said that I was already way over my head. And I would really desperately like to hate him, but that truth of the matter is that if he knocked on my door rightthissecond and said it was a mistake, that he loves me, that he hates himself, I'd probably take him back. And I really just hate myself for that.

And I totally know this is normal and that every one goes through this and that even though I think right now that he's over me and that I'll never be over him and that my life is over, it's not. So you don't need to remind me. I know I'll be okay. I'm just going to buy some hair dye and some ice cream and I'll be okay soon. But right now, I really need someone else to hate him too, so even though you met him for about five seconds, and know nothing about him, I really need you to tell me that you hate him too.

From: Cyndi
To: Me

1. I read all of this.
2. Hate is a strong word and I refuse to apply it to a singular person. Inanimate objects, sure. People by themselves, no.

But I'll say I hate boys like him.

Boys like him, and like Z. Those boys who are so ridiculously good to you, you initially start out scared for how things'll turn out, because it can't be true. So you edge off a bit, then fall in like Alice through the rabbit hole. And things are seemingly perfect because he seems like the closest you'll ever find to a soul mate because you have the same taste in music, have the same weird habits and can have debates about stupid things like typography. Because he said all those things you've been dying to hear and kissed away every insecurity and instance of self doubt.

But the moment it all ends they leave you in this state of self-loathing. Of wondering why you can't hold on to the only thing you thought was worthwhile in your life and the only person you thought would love you that way. And you live with replayed silly memories as well as the instant that you knew things were over. And you know you'd take him back no matter what. Because lets face it, in my case, Z has been beyond douche, and I'd like to think I wouldn't, but if he so much as skyped me right now being like "I miss you, lets give us another chance, etc." I'd be down for it in a heart beat.

And you know what. It's not normal. Everyone goes through it yes, but its not normal. Because no one should have to feel like this. No one deserves it. No one can act like (or should act like and claim) that this is normal or that you'll ever be okay again. Because you won't be. No matter how subtly this'll change you in some way. And how can that be okay? You'll recover. That's a sure thing. But you've also lost something.

Yes. I hate boys like him. That's the aspect that's ok to hate. I hate them with every fiber in my being and every tear that I shed and every breath and beat that courses through me.

From: Me
To: Cyndi

You're right. I don't hate him. I never could, even if I wanted to. Even if I was okay with hating another human being. But the fact of the matter is that he is another real life person with a thoughts and feelings and a heart beat, a heart beat that once lulled me to sleep and convinced me that everything would be okay, that it was finally safe to be truly happy. And if nothing else, I'll always care deeply about the idyllic few weeks we had before the real world came in and reminded us that nothing is perfect, that happiness is followed by sorrow, and that love is fleeting.

RIP Precious

There really isn't a whole lot I can say about this. She's been sick. Her body was falling apart. She lost all ability to walk on her own. She could barely lift her head without shaking.

We couldn't let her live in pain anymore.

We rescued her when she was almost three years old.
She'd been abused by her previous owners and it showed.
But we were patient with her and showed her that we wouldn't hurt her and eventually she learned to trust us.
She had the most wonderful personality.
She loved to go on really long walks.
Never once did she hurt another animal.
She slept next to my bed every night.
And would lay her head in my lap every chance she got.

She was my best friend, my confidante, the love of my life.
She's been there for me for the past ten years.
I shared exactly half my life with her.
Now I'm having a hard time believing she's gone.
I miss her more than words can explain.

"Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened."
-Anatole France

Rest in peace my beautiful baby, you wonderful soul.
<33

On Hairtastrophes and Why Mall Massages SUCK

I mentioned in my Weekend Whoop! post that my Saturday was fun with a sprinkling of catastrophe, right?

Or should I say hairtastrophe?

It was awful. Traumatic. I mean, first, I couldn't catch a break with the whole masseur (male massageguyperson) that had no idea what he was doing and left me BRUISES that made Mr. Man wonder why I'd even bothered to let anyone give me a massage but him. AND PAY MONEY FOR IT, MAY I ADD? At least I can pay Mr. Man with a kiss and dinner, which I was going to make anyways... but I digress.

So, my back is still pretty sore from that. I'm pretty sure the man came close to dislocating my shoulder, too. ARMS DON'T BEND THAT WAY, DUDE. And the most insulting part? HE WAS WEARING DOCTORS' SCRUBS. You work in a MALL, dude. Seriously.

But then, THEN, I go to the hair salon where I've been going since I was ELEVEN, and the woman I normally go to had some emergency so they stuck me with this other random INTERN. You see where this is going. I AM A REGULAR CUSTOMER AND HAVE BEEN FOR EIGHT YEARS. WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?

-sigh- So, I tell her I want this cut to the left:
And I know, I KNOW, the picture isn't the most excellent quality. But you can see the length and the layering and the kind of sexy shagginess. It's pretty darn obvious! Instead, I get this bob (below). Which, while I have finally gotten to the point where I can admit it's kindofmaybe cute, IT'S MUCH SHORTER AND NOT LAYERED. (It looks like it is because I have it tucked behind my ear, but I assure you it's not.) I AM INSECURE ABOUT MY HAIR PEOPLE. I don't like it that short.

That terrible photo (in which I look angry and like I have a doublechin -- I don't) is after I restyled it. The way she styled it was poofier than I like, which made it look shorter, and also like I sort of maybe had a PERFECT SPHERE FOR A HEAD. I almost cried when I first saw it. What have I gotten myself into, I asked? I cannot tie this up in a ponytail if I'm late for class. I now look about 16. This is not okay!

I am not a fan.

RIP JD Salinger

I was going to participate in Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop today, but something else has taken precedence.

JD Salinger, one of my favorite authors, passed away yesterday at 91. I'll be honest, I wasn't a *huge* fan of Catcher in the Rye, but Franny and Zooey, 9 Stories, Raise High The Roofbeam Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction... Those stories were fantastic. I even wrote my own story, Taylor, that was inspired by a combination of the chapter "Franny" in Franny and Zooey and The Awakening (Kate Chopin, another favorite). There are rumors of a posthumous collection, which I really hope is true, but even so this is a huge loss to the literary world. :(

Salinger, who remained an enigmatic figure after giving the world only one novel and four collections, taught me a lot through his characters -- it's okay to be an angry, disaffected youth: It's okay to want something different, it's okay to want the world to change, it's okay to take every day by the horns, and it's okay to think for yourself. He may have refused to give a lot of interviews or to come out of his self-imposed seclusion, but I think that's part of his legacy and we have a lot to learn from him.

"Just because I'm so horribly conditioned to accept everybody else's values, and just because I like applause and for every else to rave about me doesn't make it right. I'm ashamed of it. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of not having the courage to be an absolute nobody. I'm sick of myself and everybody else that wants to make some kind of splash." --Franny, Franny and Zooey.

I hope to have the courage to be absolutely nobody.

Do any of y'all have a favorite author that taught you a lot?

Broken-Heart Letter

"Whatever life takes away from you, let it go. When you surrender and let go of the past, you allow yourself to be fully alive in the moment. Letting go of the past means you can enjoy the dream that is happening right now."--dmr

Dear Boy A,

First and foremost, I'm pretty glad that you don't know I have this blog. I talk about you a lot. Most of it is good, but this letter might not be so much.

You broke my heart. Period, end of story. But you know that already.

We were good together, in every way. People say that no one falls in love in high school, but we did, and we knew it. Everyone around us knew it. Even our parents were preparing themselves for us to get married. I never told you this, but when we went prom dress shopping my parents joked that I should just buy a white dress so I could wear it again for our wedding everyone was sure we'd have in two years. Not only that, we took our relationship seriously and actually talked about getting married after a few years of college.

And then one day... we broke up. I don't know why, to be honest. When people ask me why, I say it was because we were going off to college, or we were bored, or we needed a break, or we got in a stupid fight and were too proud to apologize.

But, none of that's true. I think part of it was that we both got cold feet. I think we realized we were 17 years old and were already with the person we thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives with and it scared us. We didn't know how to handle what everyone around us already "knew." I think the pressure was too much.

However, why isn't really what broke my heart for so long. The point was that we were apart, and that sucked. But what was even worse was what happened after.

Not speaking to me for three months? That was lame.

Dropping out of school, starting to drink and do drugs, and basically become someone that most of the people I know from high school are disappointed in because you had so much potential? That is really lame.

Becoming a total jackass though? That was entirely uncalled for. You were always sarcastic and rough around the edges, but a nice guy I still can't believe half the shit you put my through. You gave my phone number out to people, even ones you barely knew like your managers, and encouraged them to call me when they were drunk for kicks and giggles. I got a phone call about how much you missed me from another unknown person every holiday for over a year, and I could hear you giggling in the background. Do you know how hard it was to sit there, Christmas Eve, and listen to someone I didn't even know tell me that you still loved me and were on your way to my grandmother's house, when I knew that was you in the background laughing? That was beyond jacked up. I got voice mail after voice mail like that, most from people I didn't even know. When I finally got up the guts to call you and tell you to knock it off or take me out of your phone since you clearly weren't taking the let's-still-be-friends part of our break up seriously, you apologized and acted like a nice guy again, but you were just playing me, which I found out pretty quickly.

I cannot believe you told a bunch of the people I went to high school with that you were just using me the whole time we'd been together; that you cheated on me and I really meant nothing to you; that you wanted to see how long you could play the smart girl for a fool and how bad you'd break her heart after. Sometimes, in my most self-doubting moments, I believe it. I really believe I was the stupid girl that fell in love with a boy that never cared. But I know, I know, that's not true. You don't take a girl you're using for sex ring shopping and apply to all the same colleges and spend every waking minute with her. You don't stay up late to watch her sleep or talk about your future together and let her hang out alone with your mom and sister and offer to dig her car out of freak snow storms in March. You don't look at her the way you looked at me and you don't defend her against your friends the way you did for me and you don't waste a year and a half on her. I know nothing you told them was true. So why the hell would you say it?


(This post has been brought to you in part by Mama Kat's writer's workshop. Mosey on over there and see what everyone else wrote about!)

6 Months to 20

In exactly six months, I will be 20 years old. TWENTY YEARS OLD.

I know, I know. A lot of you out there are already 20 or older. And you're probably grumbling right now about this silly teen you're reading who needs to chill the heck out because 20 isn't old.

But right now, it sounds old. It sounds very old. It would be okay if there was some kind of reward for being 20. You know like... 16, you get your driver's license. 18, you get to vote, buy cigarettes, and look at porn. 21, you get to legally drink.

But 20. At 20, you get nothin'. Zilch. Just that "oh hey, look, you're not a teen anymore, why don't you grow up?" look from everyone.

I don't want to grow up!

As you can see, I'm sort-of-kind-of in crisis mode about this. I am almost 20 years old and I have accomplished NOTHING. People used to establish empires and take down armies by the time they were 16! There are all kinds of people today who did something awesome and successful before they were 20. I HAVE NOTHING.

Ugh. What am I going to do?

Quotes and the like

(Yes, that photo IS mine. Ask permission before using.)

I found the quote in that picture in Travis' tumblr and liked it so much I decided to Picnik it (yeah, I used that as a verb, like Google; let it happen). I've realized how all-encompassing loss is recently now that I feel like I've really lost my hometown. I feel that that part of my life is over now, you know? That chapter is closed and done, and while I'll never be done wanting to go back and visit, I'd be okay never living there again. It makes me kind of sad though, it feels like I lost my childhood and all the illusions that come with it.

That's about all I've got to say today, but here are a few quotes I'd like to share (I'm kind of a quote-fanatic).

"None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free." -- Goethe

"Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring." -- Marilyn Monroe

"I cannot believe the purpose of life is to be happy. I think the purpose of life is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate. I think it is above all to count, to stand for something. To have it make some difference that you lived at all." -- Leo Rosten (I've quoted this one before.)

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." -- Eleanor Roosevelt

"Life is beauty, admire it. Life is bliss, taste it. Life is a dream, realize it. Life is a challenge, meet it. Life is a duty, complete it. Life is a game, play it. Life is a promise, fulfill it. Life is sorrow, overcome it. Life is a song, sing it. Life is a struggle, accept it. Life is a tragedy, confront it. Life is an adventure, dare it."
-Mother Teresa

"The supreme happiness of life is that conviction that we are loved for ourselves -- say, rather, loved in spite of ourselves." -- Victor Hugo

"Well-behaved women rarely make history." -- Laurel Thatcher Ulrich

On Breaking Up

This whole train of thought started with this tweet: “Okay, since when do breakups mean you have to treat each other badly? What happened to common courtesy, dignity, and civility? Honestly.” (Yes, that is 140 characters or less.) It was about two specific breakups of mine, but I realized it applied to a lot more breakups than just those two – in fact, I think it applies to most breakups because even those that did at least seemingly end well, most turned sour fairly quickly.

The latter is what happened to me at the end of my last two serious relationships. We ended on at least decent terms (the first one better than the most recent) and then they degenerated from there. The first one was with a boy we’ll call simply Boy A. We had dated for roughly a year and a half and when we split ways, it was because we were going off to college and we knew we needed time to grow and become our own people. We vowed to stay friends and reconsider “us” at the end of our sophomore year of college – but I can safely say that won’t happen. Why? First, because we stopped talking to each other for about three months after our break up. Which was fine, it gave us time to heal and grow a little, except after we started talking again, we were on good terms for about two weeks before the problems started – Boy A started spreading rumors about how he had just been using me the entire time we dated, he gave my number out to his managers at his new job and let them call me whenever they wanted to to harass me, he did the same for his new friends and encouraged them to drunk dial me. He and his friends still do that to this day (literally – got a phone call from them last week) even though Boy A and I broke up over a year ago at this point. Yeah, like I said, I won’t be reconsidering a relationship with him anytime soon.

In the more recent one, with a boy I’ll only refer to as Boy B, our breakup itself was peaceful. We were sad about it but I had to do it because I couldn’t see myself marrying him, despite how good of a guy he was, and I didn’t want to draw it out and make it more painful if I already knew it had no future. But, of course, it didn’t stay peaceful for long. Yesterday, he was bashing me on Twitter for every little thing I said, even though it had nothing to do with “us” and he was calling my room mate accusing me of lying to him and cheating on him. Granted, I didn’t handle it well and replied directly to him (DMs, only), probably angering him further, which led to him asking back for all the gifts he’d ever given me, which I happily put in the mail. Then I posted the aforementioned tweet, not really intending for it to be solely about him but about relationships in general, but I guess you can guess which way he took it. This of course degenerated what had been a fragile friendship (or, truce, I guess) into utter chaos and cat fighting. And now we’re not speaking to each other. I don’t foresee it getting better anytime soon.

What makes me sad about these situations is that this didn’t have to happen. I don’t mean to sound like I was a popular kid in high school or a slut or anything (because I definitely wasn’t either of those things), but I’ve dated a lot of guys. Some, like Boy A, were much more serious than others. But out of all the guys I’ve dated, only Boy A, Boy B, and one kid I dated my sophomore year of high school who I would actually kill if I could walk away from it with no consequences, are no longer considered friends of mine. One of my best guyfriends is an ex of mine and I love him to death; we’re extremely close.

So, genuinely being friends after a breakup is possible. Maybe not immediately, but it is possible eventually. My cousin Jackie is a perfect testament to that: she’s friends with most of her exes – it took time with some, but they’re on good terms. As another example, Kevin and his ex that he dated for four years are still friends. Another? My good friend Ryan is on good terms with most of his exes, and even friends with some of them. My friend Sydney is on decent terms with all of her exes but one, and she’s dated more guys than I have. So, it’s possible to be civil and courteous and even friendly. But yet, my friends Ayla and Cyndi would tell you that they’re not friends with most of their exes because it ended messily, but I would bet that most probably had the potential to end okay. So, if it can end cleanly, why don’t people just do that? Why do people insist on being catty and rude? Wouldn’t it seem like ending peacefully would be so much easier and less emotionally draining? And it’s not just girls reacting this way, which is what I would’ve expected if it weren’t for Boys A&B. But, no, guys do it too, and in my experience they’re sometimes worse. Why, though? I mean, if two people were together, there was a reason. There was something about each other that they liked and the fact is that that part of them doesn’t go away or change just because they go their separate ways.

Now, I’m not saying that you have to be civil and friendly in every situation – it’s hard to be even somewhat civil to someone who cheated on you or abused you (see: guy from sophomore year who I would kill), and that’s totally understandable. But it’s as different as it is understandable. Not every relationship ends for those reasons, and I don’t see why breakups that could be perfectly civil aren’t treated that way. Getting angry at each other and tearing each other’s throats out doesn’t make the break up any easier. You’re not going to be happier sooner and you’re not going to put it behind you sooner if all you do is get angry and refuse to deal with and accept what happened.

So, why do people choose that route? Are people cruel to each other because they’re hurting and want to bring the other person down too? Do they think they have to entirely dislike someone to get over them? Or is it just part of human nature and something not all people are willing to put aside for someone they once cared about? I don’t know. Why do you think it happens?

(photo courtesy of romance tips for women.)

Just one more reason to think my family is crazy.

Okay, so, I was planning on blogging about mother's day and how wonderful it was to see my mom (she drove down to see me at TAMU) and how thankful I am for her. And while I was thankful for her yesterday, I'm not so thankful now.

I realize that sounds awful, but I'm really upset.

Late last night, I found out that my Great-Aunt Mildred passed away early Sunday morning. I was floored when I found out. I mean, she'd been sick recently and I knew she was in a lot of pain so part of me is glad she's not in pain anymore, but I'd kind of expected her to pull through. I shouldn't have expected that and taken her health for granted, but how many people honestly expect death? I digress; I was devastated when I found out from my cousin. Of course, I immediately called my mom to tell her and to my surprise, she said, "I know."

She knew? She'd been here with me that morning and she knew? And she didn't tell me?

Well, I asked her why she didn't tell me and after a few minutes of stammering and talking in circles, she finally admitted that the family had decided not to tell me. My entire family decided not to tell me (except my cousin, apparently). They actually decided that not telling me was the best answer because of finals. I asked when they had planned on actually telling me and she said Thursday at the earliest, but probably more like Sunday because I have my friend's prom to go to.

Let's reiterate. They were going to wait until a week after she passed to tell me because of a few tests and a prom.

Pushing the betrayal I felt by the alone aside, I asked when the funeral was going to be. This led to more stammering before she finally said that it would probably be Wednesday. My last two finals are on Wednesday. The funeral would be roughly 6 hours away. There's no possible way I could make that. So, I ask her to call me as soon as the date and time are confirmed, thinking that if it is on Wednesday, I still have time to reschedule my finals for Tuesday and make the funeral. I retire to my room to deal with the fact that this wonderful woman who loved me and my entire family unconditionally has passed away and I realize that my world feels a little emptier without her in it.

Today, I wake up at noon and immediately check my phone to see if my mom has called to let me know when the funeral will be. I have no missed calls, which shocks me. My mother said she was going to find out at about 7 am when the funeral was. So, I call her to see if she knows and maybe just forgot to call. She doesn't answer and I leave a message, asking her to call me as soon as possible.

I call her again at one. No answer. Two PM: no answer. Three o'clock, four o'clock, five o'clock: No answer. I left a message each time. I tried calling other family members. No answers.

At this point, I'm starting to get anxious. Did they decide to have the funeral today? Or is it just coincidence none of them answered? My mom hasn't answered all day... is she okay? Did something else happen? Are they trying to keep more stuff from me? Should I go ahead and reschedule my finals for Tuesday? Well, the family is really widespread, they probably couldn't all get there by Wednesday, so what if they do have it Thursday or Friday? What the hell am I supposed to do, hundreds of miles from the nearest family member, when no one will answer the phone and tell me what's going on?

Finally, my mother calls me back at 9:16 PM. By that point, my rationale that it will be on Thursday has won out (I also added in that my mother knew I knew and that she couldn't possibly be cruel enough to deny me the chance to honor my Aunt at her funeral), so I haven't emailed my profs and asked to reschedule. I've packed up most of my dorm so I can leave as soon as my finals are over and drive straight to Arkansas (where the funeral was supposed to be). Well, my mother calls me back, and I immediately ask "Okay, so, what time is the funeral?"

After a minute or so of talking in circles she tells me: Wednesday, 2 PM. Of course.

She soon admitted to having found out at 7 am that morning and having ignored all my phone calls because she didn't want me to reschedule my finals because she didn't want me to rush through them and possibly get a bad grade on them. She knew if she waited late enough, I wouldn't be able to reschedule my finals in time to make it to the funeral.

Let's get this straight: First, they were just not going to tell me because of a few tests and a dance. Then, when I found out, they decided to not tell me when the funeral was so I wouldn't get a bad grade on my finals. Did they think I was going to be happy that they didn't tell me until a week later? "Oh, thanks family for not telling me so I could take a test and go to someone else's prom and be happy"? Do they really think I'm going to get a good grade on finals now? "Oh, my Aunt just died and my family has virtually denied me all chances to go to her funeral and get some closure and say goodbye... LET'S ACE THIS TEST!"? Like...honestly? And did they really think I was going to cope better without my family? Without going to the funeral? Without that closure? What honestly made them think this was the best way of going about this?