Survival is Tough

You know how when you're typing something into the Google search engine box and it suggests other popular things people have searched for? Well, my roommate and I love to pause while typing things just to see what pops up. Today, I was doing research about survival in the desert and found this little gem while visiting Google.


Note that surviving high school is right there with surviving disaster. I love the way the world thinks.

My new hairdo. Not the greatest picture since my hair was all sweaty because it's such a god damn hot day. My new life as a dark-haired person has just begun!

Learning Each Day

So as of the beginning of this month, I am a house-owner. Well, house-renter but it's pretty much the same thing. It just doesn't come with the whole this-is-my-house-so-do-what-I-say mentality. I'm renting with four other girls so my word isn't law. Or even heard. But who's to complain when you have a comfortable bed and a roof over your head?

Within the last few weeks, I've learned a few good lessons about house ownership. First and foremost, don't put grease down your sink! I've often heard this warning from the elders back on my homestead but, as is often typical of me, I rarely listen to others' advice until it's too late. So when I made tacos and poured that grease down the sink, I was pretty shocked to find out that the sink wouldn't drain the next day. Turns out I screwed up the sink. On the bright side, I'm just as handy with a plunger as I am with destroying plumbing. I'm happy to report that the sink is well again and gurgling down acidic oddities just as hungrily as before.

The second lesson runs along the lines of meter-readers. I totally forgot about those guys! Back in my day, they didn't bother you. They walked to the meter and read it without speaking to you or knocking on the door to inform you they were on your property. Unfortunately, it seems life in the city is far different than life in the country. The meter-reader chick knocked on the door and actually came in to check the meter, which, i may add, I had no idea where it was. I swear I was probably so blindsided by what my southern manners saw as an invasion that the woman could have robbed me, made a sandwich, and walked out with all my homely goods while I happily informed her to search the place.

I do believe house-owning from now on will be quite an adventure. I feel as if I'm being prepared for a world of actually living in a house without anyone else to save me. At least right now, I live with the knowledge that this is a temporary home. Well, at this rate, it may very well be temporary if I keep letting meter-readers in.

Oh well, at least there's an ice cream truck that passes by the place.

3 years of Healing

My childhood was never a simple thing but it certainly wasn't the worse ever experienced by people. For a long time, I struggled with who I was and where my home was. During my college years, I rarely went home because there was far too much to confront and own up to. It was a world I could barely tolerate. Just spending one night there was a struggle.

But this weekend I stayed there for 3 wonderful days. I returned to my roots, shopped in my hometown, went to the gas station I would buy soda from as a child, went on adventures in the fields with the most wonderful niece and nephews in the world. Each day was wonderful and rewarding in its own way and I could barely fathom how much things had changed.

All those years I avoided home, I avoided a part of myself. It took three years to find that part of me and bring it back to my soul. I was complete again. Pushing someone to get over their hesitations would never work. I guess, when it comes down to it, when you're ready, you're ready. There's nothing more to it.

A Story

Ever buy a delicious looking artichoke just short of ripening?
It sits on the counter patiently waiting on you.
But peeling artichokes are messy.
How to fix it? In what salad? With what side?
And then there's that outrageously large tumor of a seed in the middle to deal with.

So you wait , and the artichoke waits.
And them shsssssssss, the ripeness passes, and the artichoke rots with a vengeance.
It still looks good from the outside, but..... Poor artichoke, and sad you are.
Another one's gone and another one's gone.