My Normal Life

A Smokier Path In Life

I joined my high school’s theater club freshman year, just as all the clubs were beginning, in the fall. I feel like I was following in my dad’s footsteps. He did theater when he was in high school, and me being a loud, center of attention needing child, I knew that was the group I needed to join.

We did “Peter Pan” my freshman year, I remember grandma and aunt Nancy coming to see me put on a standing ovation performance as Nana, the dog. I was so marvelous. I knew I made them proud, the way I pounced around the stage during that first act, just as I had rehearsed. I could see them both smiling at me, a few rows back. I knew how difficult it was for grandma to leave her house, needing to bring her oxygen with her. But, I realized she would give her tubes to anyone of us if we needed them. I look through old pictures and see grandma Norma when I was really young. She always looked so content. She was always the happiest. I don’t remember exactly when she started needing her ventilator to help her with her breathing, but I do know that’s mostly what I recall her having as I grew up. She always had a big smile on her face, though

Emphysema is a long term, progressive lung disease that causes shortness of breath. It destroys that spongy tissue, which I didn’t even realize our lungs had until I started researching this, and it severely affects those small blood vessels plus the airways that run through the lungs. The air and blood flow are both affected. It can have a very dramatic impact on the ability for either lung to empty air-sacs, but also for blood to flow through the lungs to receive any oxygen. This all explained to me why grandma needed those air tubes just to help her get out of bed every day. She needed those to help her walk, talk, just to even give me a hug. With those tubes in her nose, though, she got out of bed every day in a better mood than any other person in the family.

My sophomore year, I don’t recall what play we were doing, but the second night, I walked into my director’s office, not really knowing how to tell him what was on my mind. This was a really exciting show for me, since I had an important role. I felt this just being my second year and knowing how dismal my last character was, I believed I had to glow like glitter in order to obtain the best future anything that I could. Yet, now I had to tell my director that grandma had died yet I still had to get out on stage like life was perfect. And I did. I made her proud. She stayed strong until her last day, these days now, I try to be as strong for her. When I know mom’s not having a good day, even though I’m 2000 miles away, I send as many messages as I can. I call her, no matter the time difference, just to be sure she’s okay. I bug my sister the same way, too. I’m sure they both would change their numbers if they could.

When moving onto Junior year, I was thinking that I really only needed to worry about those ACT’s that everyone all of a sudden kept talking about. That huge test that was, apparently, the only thing that could get me into any college. Good grades, money or names wouldn’t help you at all. I didn’t like tests. I never really did well on them, and now all of a sudden if I wanted to continue down my road in life, I needed to take a major, nationwide exam. I required a piece of paper to tell me how “smart” I was. That pointless paper left my mind that year, though.

Mom went over to aunt Nancy, her sister’s house, having not heard from her for a few days. She had been living with grandma. This is one point I never really like to talk about. I can talk about when grandpa Bud passed, when we had to drive to Tennessee to see Grandma Millie, to be there with her. Then when it was grandma Norma’s time, who I was just speaking about. I can talk about when all of the grandparents have passed, since I still love them all. I find it the hardest to talk about how she left me. She wasn’t supposed to. It wasn’t her time. She was supposed to be with me when I graduated high school. I had hoped she would be around if I had ever found that one person I was supposed wander upon one day, not knowing that I would. She would have been there when I was having my first home owners party. She would have been there for my sister’s baby shower. She would have been there, to give me a big hug at my moving to Las Vegas party. But no; she had to commit suicide and her own sister, had to be the one to find her.

There are some days I don’t even want to be here anymore. I know we can all like that. What makes us just go through with it, though? Do we really think that people don’t care about us that much? I tell my boyfriend everyday that I love him. I send him messages while he’s at work; I jump up and hug him, trying to beat our cat to him when he walks through the door. I do all of this because I still worry that there might be one day when he feels like just not being here. I know that he’s not always as chipper as I can be. He gets so discouraged about the least fundamental things that he just wants to be left alone, but I don’t know if I’m really not supposed to bother him. So, I continue to shove all of the love that I can into his face.

Suicide is in the top ten for death rates in the United States. As is cancer and emphysema, two more that have taken three of the grandparents and dad. These are the main reasons I don’t smoke. I remember back in high school when I tried to smoke and hated it. Plus, I already thought I was cool enough so I didn’t need a cigarette to impress anyone else. None of my friends smoked, so why did I need to?  I remember mom had quit, when I was younger, multiple times dad tried to, but once he couldn’t, he would just continue, never really around us. I don’t know why my sister started. I never really know why anyone person finds it so relaxing. My form of relaxation is to get up on a stage at a bar while singing one of my favorite songs as I’m dancing like a fool.

Esophageal cancer seems to occur more frequently in men and more commonly in those that smoke. Since dad had smoked almost my entire life, this was not a big surprise. It was either that, or he would get what his dad had had. Of course, any symptoms don’t usually occur until their more advanced stages, those mostly being difficulty swallowing. Others can be weight loss, chest pain, vomiting and chronic coughing. I’ve read that people with a family history of cancer also have a higher risk of this one. So now, having been on both sides and happening with more than, I believe four members, I am starting to worry for me and my sister more. I know that these cancers including anything else my elders have had in my family have mostly been smoking related, I don’t really panic that much. My worry just builds up when I walk up to a counter, ask for a pack of cigarettes, take it home then hand it to my guy. I feel like I’m handing him a little box of death.

As one that I love goes out onto the balcony to have I don’t even know what number cigarette that is, I continue to worry about him and that always brings my sister to mind. I care about those two the most after I’ve looked back all that has happened on this health path in life. Trying to change my mind is hard enough, so just by accidentally emailing an article about lung cancer or possibly mentioning a humorous memory about one of my grandpas because of something I came across on my Facebook, could maybe push them further towards the Yellow Brick Road of Health, but I doubt it. They’re both too stubborn.

Grandpa Bud and Randy are my only two who I don’t recall what smoking lung related path they had chosen in life. As grumpy the old men that they were, I still love them. I love all of my family, here or not, whether they decided they just didn’t want to be around anymore or if they wanted to, but to continue yet on a rougher ride in their life. Looking back at all of this, viewing over to the right side of the room, I can see a little bit of dad is sitting upon my book shelf. I get to tell him I love him every day.

 

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My Normal Life

I’ve Been Mississippilessly For Awhile

First and foremost: be kind. It’s gangster. I think I’ve been learning there are different roads of kindness throughout my long road in life. From all of this, it hurts when I realize I’m not as important to someone as I thought I was. If they won’t lift a few fingers to call me or to see me or to spend time with me, it’s time for me to lift five fingers and wave buh-bye! I almost broke my thumbs doing that the other night with all the messaging I was putting into my phone and only getting a response from my mom. One would think, that with flying two thousand miles across country, just for a few family functions, more would be excited to see me. Yet, everyone seemed so unavailable for what seemed the entire month I was there. It hurts when you realize you aren’t as important to people as you thought you were. Fridays and Saturdays are still lonely in this old age.

I can totally understand people being busy with work, family, with life when trying to invite them out during the middle of the week, me being on a different time zone after all. Then I see what is going on with them for the night by updates in their lives every five minutes, and I happened to be just down the road. Yet when I look at my phone, there is no response to anything I had sent out to see if anyone wanted to party down. This is when I begin to realize, maybe I just have to let go.

Have you ever sat with your friends and just known that you’re the least important person in the group? Then, you felt like it really wouldn’t make a difference if you were there or not? The problem is, that I don’t know what a true friend is anymore these days. A stranger can become my best friend just as easily as a best friend can become a stranger. If I just got up from the table and left, would anyone even notice? It’s almost like I’m not even friends with some people anymore. The saddest thing is when I am feeling real down, I look around and realize that there really doesn’t seem to be a shoulder when I need one. Except my guy in the next room.

Sitting in my chair all day, even if I did have plans, can get a little boring. It may not seem like such a big deal, but there really isn’t that much on Netflix. I can get what seems like an automatic reply to a text message to plans we’re making, like “Oh yeah, I can’t wait, I’m down for tomorrow. SO excited you’re here!” And then the next day; nothing. I pretty much gave up sending a “Hey, are we still down for today,” message because I knew I would get nada. If one moment I cut them off, chances are they handed me the scissors. I’m not really mad; I guess really more hurt. There’s a difference. I do know I’m not the only person in this big ass world. But, when I haven’t seen the faces I thought would be excited to spend five minutes with me, the way that dreaded social network made it seem, there only seemed to be excuses or no responses on my phone. These days, I really just miss the memories, not the people.

Good friends are like stars. I don’t always see them, but I do know they’re there, somewhere. Still not mental, just a little torn up. There is a difference. It’s almost the same as a friend who comes and goes, but the true friend lasts forever. The problem is that I don’t know who my true friends are anymore these days. Nowadays, I’m beginning to realize that they can break your heart, too. Some walks on this road in life, you might have to take alone.

I sometimes think that when I’m out for my fun, sixty percent of the stories I tell go unfinished because either someone cut me off or maybe no one is even listening. I think I even learned this these past few years in my life. Airplanes have been making me think. They also make me realize that I might have found my new promise land. Silver is becoming my new Gold.

 

real friends

My Normal Life

I Can’t Fit My Pants

My boyfriend and I have the same t-shirt. We got it one night as a bonus from one of our bars; a shot, a beer and a t-shirt all for six bucks just for the Golden Knights being in the play-offs. We both picked out the same size. When we put them on, over the shirts we were already wearing, his fit a little snug. For me, it fit a lot snug. I even needed to go to the bathroom and stretch it out as best that I could. My boyfriend didn’t seem to make any adjustments to his. Even after I wash it and put it on like a normal shirt, I still need to re-stretch it.

Lately, with all of my old shirts, my pants, I feel the need to make changes to them. I can’t walk into any store of my choosing for regular clothing like a normal American woman. I have to shop at one of the “bigger” girl shops. This has been what feels like my whole life. Growing up, when shopping for any clothes, I don’t remember ever shopping in the regular girl’s section. I believe I always picked out shirts, maybe even pants from the same section my mom usually got her clothes from. But, even today, my section is different than hers. Again, it’s the section with larger options.

Teenage girls share their favorite outfits with their girlfriends. I never did that. My friends were always smaller than me. I would sit around their bedrooms, looking at their outfits, thinking to myself, “I wish I could wear that shirt,” “I can’t wear shorts that small.” I don’t even WEAR shorts! My ass would be hanging out! I know that if I even tried to wear a tank top, the fat that hangs off of my upper arm would be stared at when I walk anywhere.

Every so often I don’t know what I’m feeling anymore; happiness? Love? The cat on my lap? Someday’s, I think, “maybe I need some music.” Other days, I really just need the lyrics. Those words can help me find the right ones to express my feelings. The words can be the pathway to happiness in life.

I tell myself every night that I’m going to be different in the morning. I am discovering that the key to a woman’s brain may be buried deep down inside her playlist. It may be a LOVElove song, one that could never explain to someone how much their heart aches enough for them. It might be a lost heart love song. Even though I am not lost on my emotions path in life, I still listen to many of these songs that are so deeply filled with sorrow. I listen to them, then I let whoever is still buried in my thoughts wander out and wonder, “What if?” I’m sure you all do. I still never regret the decisions I have made. I might be stuck between who I am, who I want to be and who I should be, but I will always have the help I need.

I always wanted to be somebody. I think I realize now I should have been more specific on what that was. I’m beginning to feel like I’m having such a boring life only because I listened to some guy on TV telling me how to do all my shit, so I think I deserve this. Even if I am on the right track in life, I could get run over if I don’t get off my ass and just continue to sit here.  I know I shouldn’t put off until tomorrow what I can do the day after tomorrow, yet well-behaved women seldom seem to make history. The more rebellious ones look to be the ones on that list.  Edison failed 10,000 times before he made the electric light so I need not be discouraged if I fail a few more times. I mean, people do tend to say nothing is impossible and I accomplish nothing every day. I intend to live forever. So far, so good.

Maybe I could just go sit on my balcony to write down what’s on my mind. No person out there could keep me down, no matter how hard they tried. I’m really starting to love him and our life more when I can make the night time last. When you love somebody, I better tell him because I sometimes feel that I might one day run away. When I do tell him, the world’s alright with me, just with one look into those deep, blue eyes. When the sun goes down, he is the one I’m going to be with. There couldn’t be better days than these.

I know that life may be short. We all need to smile while we still have our teeth. I’m already missing one, so I’m on my way down that road. I guess I need to start studying for that test we all have. I actually hope I can arrive to death late, maybe a little drunk. The way my life seems to be these days, I feel every day that I have almost been there, done that, practically like I’ve been there several times only because I’ve apparently forgotten.

The music from my phone at the same moment every day begins my time, even though by now, my mind is really a natural alarm. After I dig through the closet, stretching out my shirts, still continuing to hate my body, I walk into the bathroom to make sure that I look what I know is not normal. I could be a lot nicer to myself if I liked my outfit. I just need to make myself smile and let everyone know that today, I am going to be a lot stronger than I was yesterday.

I sometimes still wonder what ever attracted him to me. I know I’ve changed, a lot, over the years we’ve been together. I’ve put on weight since our first date. The picture of me that was on that dating site he chose from has changed. My personality hasn’t, but the body he sometime cuddles with at night has. He is obviously still attracted to me, but I’m not attracted to me. When I have shirts that are two sizes bigger, pants from when we first met that I can no longer fit in, I still have in my mind that he doesn’t want to share a bed with me. But he does.

seem to want to lose weight

My Normal Life

Family

A family is a basic social unit that consists of parents and their kids, even if they live together or not, which is a good thing, since I live 2,000 miles away from every person that has loved and supported me my entire life. The closest family I have that I could run to if I wanted to, is still five hours away. Nevada is really just two major cities, then just sand. Yet, with the way technology is so updated and the support I have in those Great Lakes, all who loves me would not care if I called them at 1 am Western time just because I was having another one of my random breakdowns over nothing. That’s what family and friends are for.

Some of this family I wasn’t born with. Some of them, I just met one day on the first day of school. That one amazing day we walked into class, sat next to each other for the whole school year, or we joined the same after school group, or maybe had the same friends, they just found themselves drawn to me. Don’t deny. I’ve known these guys since elementary/junior high, so that is basically our whole lives. We all went through puberty together. They were there for the good days, bad days, the no days, and I’m still here for them, just a plane ride away. I mean, hell, they were all here a week ago! Well, most of them were. Other ones, who I might call/message too much still need to come out here. I know I’ll be back that way soon, but I would like them to see my side of a new life. I want them to see that I am a little grown up.

The thing about sisters is just that; sister. Or sista’. She hates when I say it like that. I may be the elder one, but she has matured in so many more ways than me. She has a good job, gave me a beautiful little niece, and she still listens to me complain about the stupidest things in life even if I’m not in the right state of mind. Or if it’s a certain time of the month. She also knows that I’m here for her. She holds it all inside more than me, since I’ve always been a loud mouth, always unable to hold anything inside. Might be a little problem. Yet, this is what the one thing legalizing itself across the nation can be good for.

I look at my mom, and I know she’s my best friend. I know I can’t tell her EVERYTHING, but, like I stated above, I’m not afraid to let it all out, which she hates sometimes. She thought she had two daughters where at sometimes I think she raised two inappropriate sons. I know I have a good mom, though. I complain to her about the same thing over and over, then she tells me the same way to fix it, as I just brush it off like it is the lamest way to go about doing that. She just doesn’t understand that I’m just trying to get it out; not that I want to actually FIX it. Then what would I have to call her about? I would call her just to make her mad because that’s what daughters are for. I would also call her to cry over nothing, and she would listen. I can call her to talk about the lamest thing ever, and she’ll listen. She’s my mom.

The one person I can’t call anymore; my daddy. I can still talk to him, though, if I wanted. I was able to bring a little portion of him back with me after I had gone back for his viewing.  I sometimes do still  pick up my phone and attempt to call my dad to ask a random question. Now I have to look these answers up, which will never be the same.

Family are the ones who raised me, family are friends. Family is just stuck with me for the rest of their lives.

 

Mom and Dad11dad3 SavannahMom and Dad2 me and jamieFriends Las Vegasme and mandyJess and Sam

My Normal Life

15 Facts About Me

  1. I like being on a plane. I get excited when we’re about to take off and when we’re about to land.
  2. I like flirting with black men, I don’t know why they like to flirt back (baby got back?) These were the dudes whose numbers I always got when I would attend dating events, the responses I would get on dating sites. So, I may have Brian, but I still get excited when these guys are hitting on me.
  3. I don’t feel like I can hold a job. I had my chance, and I blew it. I just let it go. I really only feel comfortable when I’m doing my Lyft now.
  4. I like rubbing at the little scar on my head from my brain surgery. I was more concerned about my hair than my brain when I had this done, but I lost very little and I obviously survived.
  5. I still have no idea what I want to do with my life.
  6. I really like bacon. Brian cooked our whole pack of bacon one day, to save future time, then he put it in the freezer. So, now, I can’t stop picking at frozen bacon. It still tastes good, though.
  7. I still always wonder what would have happened had I not chosen that one type of medication.
  8. I miss my dad. I still have him on speed dial.
  9. I love Brian. Sometimes I need my space; maybe an hour, maybe a day. But, I know he loves me. He makes me dinner every night.
  10. I obsess over my eyebrows and toenails. I pay to get them done. But my fingernails, I pick and chew at. I’d rather the other two look nicer than the latter.
  11. Ever since we moved to Vegas, my favorite thing at a casino is Roulette.
  12. I feel like I need to go to 7-11 every day. Not always the same one. Anyone will do.
  13. Our new car has a backup monitor on it; so, when we’re in reverse, a little screen appears on the dashboard to help show what’s behind us. As we get closer to anything, it starts to beep. Well, I still managed to back into a little, hip level cement rod at a gas station.
  14. I’m getting sucked into “Star Trek into Darkness” that is on my TV right now. Scotty can beam me up anytime.
  15. I miss my mom and my sister. I’m still trying to convince them, both, to move out here. I know I’ll get my mom to. She can retire soon, then she will be all mine.

 

las vegas me - Copy

My Normal Life

A Normal Day For Me

11am

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The first thing I see when my alarm goes off reminds me what I need to tell myself every day. I know this is what I am. No person can tell me what to do with my life. I am not afraid to use these words, as much politeness my loving mother has taught me, if you are trying to pull me down the wrong road in life. I tend to bring out the badass bitch at the wrong times, but maybe she needs to be out. Most of the time, though, the politeness bitch is walking around; holding doors for everyone, allowing elderly to go first, always saying thank you, apologizing even if I didn’t know I needed to. But, alas, you pull my strings the wrong way; look out!

12pm

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I know writing is my path in life. The other side of my road is probably this; making my own jewelry. I have started my own sales on one of my favorite sites, and these are my four newest pieces. Don’t be over surprised if purple is the main color. What I need to cease in at this time is continuing to buy myself more gems, jewels, new things to make until I am able to sell the one’s I’ve made. I should, perhaps, look into a craft show. Although, I need a lot in order to sell a lot.

1pm

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I found Tommy in one of his nesting spots after I had finally ventured out of bed. We should just sign the lease over to him, since thinks he basically owns the place. We have two beds, he think’s they’re both his. Two closets, move one article of clothing, he storms out like you’re disturbing him. If you sit down to use the bathroom, since that’s everyone’s private time, he’ll storm his way in, jump into the show and start beating on the curtain, just to let you know you are supposed to be playing with him now, since the bathroom is his play room apparently. Our laundry room has also become his bathroom, as it’s the only place to put his littler box. So, yes, he’s taking over the world.

2pm

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This another indication of how my little cutie is taking over the world. This had been my favorite chair. I had given it up to him, only because it had started to cave in. The pillow he sits upon is one that I had made for him out of some old shirts I never wear, the owl pillow behind him, is one my grandma Millie had made for me and the other, a big pillow of him, is one I had purchased for him with one of my favorite pictures.  Well, I had purchased it for Brian, who I know loves to cuddle with him more than cuddling with me, but I’m just glad my little kitty loves to sit next to himself. He’s so self-centered.

3pm

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The car was mine now for the day. Brian had come home from work so he had to turn the keys over to me. I could have taken it over at any time, his office is a block away. But I’m patient and I was being lazy. I figured I would go out and hopefully try to chauffer other people around. This is the picture from under our designated parking structure. Our complex is so nicely maintained. So many stones everywhere, all the bushes are well kept, all the trees are well trimmed.  We don’t really have to worry about weeds out here. At least once a week we do have gardeners come out, though. It makes me remember Brian’s previous complex, back in Michigan, that just kept raising his rent, but the complex just kept going down.

4pm

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After sitting home all day, I had yet to eat. I really hadn’t gotten out of bed until noon, since I always stay up so late. 2am is my usual bedtime. I do tuck Brian in at night, though. I wander around our apartment, doing laundry, dishes, keeping our kitty company. I also pick and poke around at Facebook too much. But, when he walks through the door around 2:30, I decide if I want to leave and see the sunshine. If I do, I usually grab a bite to eat then I turn on my Lyft driver app. With this, I become the driver for any needed person. I never know what to talk about, so if they want to, I converse, if not, I try not to look in my rear-view mirror too much at them.

5pm

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7-11 is an everyday must, I never know why. There’s tons of cola in my fridge, yet I always need my fountain type. I sometimes tend to get a chocolate chip cookie as well. I guess it just gives me a chance to still learn the city I feel like I should be accustomed to after almost two years, yet I still have no idea where anything is. I know there’s a casino somewhere.

6pm

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The windy days are easy to see when you gaze upon the palm trees. I am always drawn into them. They cover the city, corner by corner. I don’t think I have to worry about a coconut falling on my head, though. At least I hope so. These are the ones whose leaves I don’t have to rake in September. I’m so used to that time of year. When I do see their leaves on the ground, they’re not the orange or red that I’m so used to; just brown or beige. But man, are they big. A palm leaf seems almost as big as my car.

7pm

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Alcohol brings out the best in all of us. Not always true. At times, it brings out the B in me. As rambunctious that I normally am, I tend to get louder the more I consume, which is not always a good thing, I’m reminded the next day. It marvels me that he can handle me at times.

8pm

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I like that he never smokes in our apartment. He always goes out onto our balcony. While out there, he watches the cars drive by, the people walking down the street, the ambulance that is usually across the street at the retirement home. I always like standing out there with him, sometimes just to be next to him. He usually comes up with some great ideas while he’s out there.

9pm

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Ah, dinner. A big spicy sausage with onions and cheese to eat along with some shrimp. All cooked by Brian. He cooks dinner every night, always without a recipe. We’ve had this sausage a lot lately, but we’ve been in the mood. I think there’s still one in the fridge, left over for his lunch. If I didn’t have him, I’d be ordering pizza, a lot

10pm

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This is my bracelet to let people know if anything is happening to me. I made this one. It has on it my name, who to call, that I am on blood thinners. People can’t see my disability.  I don’t wear a t-shirt, or have it plastered on my face. So, I must wear this, whatever were to happen. I’m not ashamed to admit it.

11pm

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This is our new Alexa. We can call people on her, ask her the weather, directions to a nearby restaurant. She plays music for us, and Brian let me choose the face to be an owl. Since she shows that it’s 11pm, that’s why she’s sleeping. As I continue to write about my pictures, though, I can see her staring at me, since it’s 8:15 pm. It’s a little creepy sometimes.

12am

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Our balcony is always well lit. I have little lights aligned along the brick wall, wrapped around my little green frog who sits and watches the road. We have a few plants on the corner, what they are I don’t recall. I know Brian had planted some sunflowers that look like they’re about to bloom any day now. We also have a camera to watch the fence, since we’re the last apartment on the corner of the building. We always watch cars driving in, or people leaving. Our complex is gated and secure. Not to mention, our road is very well lit. And, like I said before, there’s always an ambulance across the street because it’s a retirement home.

That’s a day in the life of Stephanie.

My Normal Life

Whatever Mile Rd. Here I Come!

The journey of 1000 miles begins with 999 steps. I tried that and I could barely take twenty steps. I signed up for something so simple, new and I failed. Now, anything else that I try to achieve, no one will expect me to accomplish putting my pants on correctly.  A song I usually hear on the radio in our car has every single word that describes my life; failure. This was just the test in life I didn’t study for. I’m sure they all expected this, though.

After all that I’ve been through this past week, it’s making me hope that I arrive to death late, in love and a little drunk. I know I will, the state of mind I’ve been in lately. I thought I was accomplishing my goal in life, but I seemed to have lost my balls and backed away. Now, I’ve lost all hope from all that care about me. I might as well just give up trying. I tried folding a fitted sheet the other day but I just got so pissed off that I threw it at the window. I didn’t break the window, so again, I accomplished nothing. No one was surprised that I gave up so easily. If I wasn’t able to put my pants on correctly in the morning, they would just brush it off like it was all normal.

I am a disappointment.

I always wanted to be somebody. I think I realize now I should have been more specific on what that was. I’m beginning to feel like I’m having such a boring life only because I listened to my mom and dad too much for motivation, which just pushed me in the wrong direction like any child, so I think I deserve this. Even if I am on the right track in life, I could get run over if I don’t get off my ass and just continue to sit here.  I know I shouldn’t put off until tomorrow what I can do the day after tomorrow, yet well-behaved persons seldom seem to make history. The more rebellious ones seem to achieve more often than none.  Edison failed 10,000 times before he made the electric light so I need not be discouraged if I fail a few. I mean, people tend to say nothing is impossible and I manage nothing every day. I intend to live forever. So far, so good.

I know that life may be short. We all need to smile while we still have our teeth. I’m already missing one, so I’m on my way down that road. I guess I need to start studying for that test we all seem to have in life. The way life seems to be these days, I feel every day that I have almost been there, done that, practically like I’ve been there several times only because I’ve apparently forgotten.

I sometimes go outside for a while. I just go sit on our balcony or where our barbecue is just to write down what’s on my mind. No person out there could keep me down, no matter how hard they tried. I’m really starting to love him and our life more when I can make the night time last. When you love somebody, I better tell him, but at times, I feel I might one day run away. When I do, I tell the world’s alright with me, just with one look into those deep, blue eyes. When the sun goes down, he is the one I’m going to be with. There couldn’t be better days than these.

One of the hardest things to do in life, is letting go of what I thought was real. I love you. A lot. Yet, one day I want to go back, then the next I’m totally fine here. I guess today is just another day and we’re both still at the bottom.  I miss everything back in our home town. Other than you, I don’t feel like I have anything in Sin City. I miss my family. I don’t have any friends.

I don’t want to cry anymore. I feel more lost, even when I come running back to you. Why do I blow our money, just want to be on a plane one day, but never want to leave you the next? Please, my baby, my mama, help me figure my life out. I don’t know how to be an adult. Ever since I’ve been stuck on my ass almost three years, I guess I really don’t know how to do anything. I have no problem getting up on stage, singing, socializing with new people, but I cannot seem to work a brand-new career.  I suppose I’m really just meant to be a prostitute.

 

prostitute

My Normal Life

A Little Pizza With Some Salad

“Hey guys; I just heard from the other room that he finally ordered a ton of pizza’s, some chicken wings, sandwiches and I think a big salad for all of us. Is this some kind of big game we’re watching?”

“What kind of salad did he order?”

I just continued to stare at the ladies I was talking to about a football game that we had all gathered together to watch. I thought maybe this was supposed to be the Super Bowl I had been excited for. My level of enthusiasm began to fade as I looked around the room at these gals, their size two’s, x-small t-shirts. I wondered silently to myself, “Why do you guys care more about a salad when the whole point of us being here is to watch football and eat crap food!?” I guess this means more pizza for me.

I know I really need to concentrate on what I eat. I never do. I actually just ate the left-over pizza from this football-whatever five hours later. I ate the pizza with my tenth diet cola of the day. That’s my number one problem of my life; too much cola. I need more water. I have no problem eating the ice cubes that are left over from however many glasses of cola I had for the day, yet I cannot drink a simple glass of water. I can eat three pieces of pizza, eighteen chicken nuggets, however may pieces of chocolate are sitting in front of me, yet not drink a simple glass of water.

I remember back to the salad we had last night. I did not eat any of it. I ate four pieces of pizza, way too much cheese bread and obviously drank too much. As I did all this, though, I looked around the office at these girls that were more concerned about how much salad they were allowed to consume. They were also worried about the dressing we had ordered with the pizza. I watched them chat with each other as they picked at the leaves, one piece at time.

“So, how long were you at the gym yesterday?”

“Oh my god! I was only there for two hours! I know I should have been there longer, but I hadn’t even eaten my protein bars yet, so I knew my body couldn’t handle anymore. I had only been able to run three miles, though, so I knew I’d be fine for work.”

Barbie Two’s (I feel like they both just looked like plastic dolls, as they continued to talk about their bodies) head fell back in a loud laugh that erupted the room in my judgmental road in life. “Oh my god that is so awesome! I was only able to run two and HALF miles. You can always do so much more than me. You make me feel like I gain three pounds a day sometimes!”

When she said that, I just wanted to walk over, look her into her deep, dark blue eyes and slap her across her face. She could actually stand to gain three pounds. Both of them could stand to gain twenty pounds. It’s girls like them that make me want to barf up everything I eat everyday when they complain about their bodies. My body is my fault and I know this. I can change it. But when skinny bitches sit and complain about how they might have consumed too many carbs for the day, when there is fat ass five feet away; do they not realize how this can affect her emotions? Do they not know that it’s not always so simple for all of us? I just need my motivation. Where is my inspiration?

I know that I could work harder. I know that I could encourage myself instead of just complaining. I could just stop blaming my body on my family history, the side effects my medications could have, all that I have not been doing on this road that I feel stuck on. But I still continue this in my life. I look down at what seems like such a simple path. A fun, relaxing looking dirt road full of green trees, a lot of my favorite purple flowers in life and the butterflies that I enjoy. Then I look down the other path. It looks long, and dark. I see a lot of rain. I do miss rain sometimes, since I have moved to such a dry state, yet this path also seems to hold holes that I need to leap over, walls that I might need to climb on. There also seems to be heavy rocks that I would have to heave around in order to continue.

In order to find my inner thoughts, I need to reach for another cookie. I remember there was a time ago that I worked hard and lost some weight. I would work out the same time every day, I monitored my food intake, and I made it down to a certain weight. I believe thirty pounds had left my body. But then it stopped. No more weight seemed to want to leave me. The harder I worked, the numbers on the scale remained the same.

So, I just quit. I returned back to my old habits. I didn’t make it routine to write down my calories. Fast food became my main source of nutrients. I remained on my couch during the day, giving up on my treadmill. Which means the pounds began to add themselves on to me. I just didn’t care, though.

My aggravation is really just when I walk into the majority of stores and I can’t find anything to wear. My size never seems on any racks.  Or, if it is, there is a very small section. There are many racks for the “average” size, yet for me to choose from, they all seem, something my grandma would wear. I have two certain shops I visit that have my size I can choose from. They tend to be on the expensive size, though. A t-shirt for a medium would be ten dollars, where as a t-shirt for a size twenty-two would cost me twenty-five. I understand it is more fabric and work, but it’s a t-shirt!

I try to tell myself everyday that tomorrow will be different. I ask my fairy every night to motivate me. Yet, here I remain, in my chair, with a cola and chocolate in my hand.

 

31 VERY Funny Pictures

My Normal Life

This Whiskey Tastes Like I’m About to Tell You How I Really Feel

A wise woman once said to fuck this shit, then she lived happily ever after. The words I need to live by. I know that I can be very demanding. As difficult as I can be, I do wish that everything worked out in my way. I guess I think this would make us both happy together. Last night, we seemed to be on top of the town, kissing like we invented it. You’re my soul, in my heart. I feel that you’ll be my last breath when I grow old.  Ever since we’ve been together, I feel that I’ve been stronger and free. I feel that I belong with you and you belong with me. You make me smile and just the thought of you can drive me wild. You have made my life complete.

I really don’t think I can say this enough, but I love you. I still have no idea why. I know that I love talking with you for what feels like forever, every day, always about nothing. I love lying next to you at night, helping to put you to sleep. I love just looking into your pale, blue eyes. Yet, I sometimes still feel like I don’t know anything about you. I know your middle name. I know when your birthday is, I think, June 29th. You are a Cancer, so I know that we are zodiac signs compatible.

The picture that you sent me the other day is what made me realize how much I really love you. I mean, come on, I just moved 3,000 miles across the country with you! We were barely starting to live together, I was just beginning to realize what you were really like and I still dropped everything and came to the casino capital of the country. I left my family and friends for you, thinking this would push us closer to certain new, obvious doors. So far, though, I feel like I’m being pushed away.

Since we have moved here, one year ago, I have already been back to the Great Lakes twice. One reason, you did come along, holding my hands and heart the whole time at the funeral, but then you returned home for work and let me stay for another week to be with my family. We did talk every day, many times, discussing how much we missed each other, you telling me how much you couldn’t wait until I returned. You even bumped my ticket up to first class, letting me fly home like you had. When I returned, though, my pants still remained on and we just continued our arguments about how I apparently contribute to nothing lately.

When I looked at this certain picture, looked at your smile, I could feel my smile creeping its way onto my face. I could feel the warmth in my cheeks beginning as I looked into your light, blue eyes, almost as if you were really in the room with me. My stomach was filling with the same chills that it had filled with the first night that I felt a foot punting me in my behind; when I turned around, it was you, introducing yourself to me on our very first date. Oh, such a gentleman you were.

I sometimes sit on my chair or lay in our bed, imagining what our children would look like. I know, one of them would for sure, have blue or hazel eyes, dark blonde or light brown hair. They could be total computer nerd, as much as you are finally able to admit these days. I know that one of our children will know how to cook, a skill they will gain from you. While another will be more of an artist, thankfully being more like their mother. One will, more than likely, want to be the center of attention at all times, and another will skulk all day long when things have not gone their way. I do know that all of our children, however many we have, will be the most helpful people they are, skills they have gained from both of their parents. One will be so negative about the world, pouting in their corner and another will be the cheap one, saving their allowance in their cute little, purple piggy bank. I just wonder when we can venture down this road, another topic I have to bring up

When those conversations are trying to be brought up, a wall seems to be put up on one of our paths. Love, children, sharing the same name has been brought up in our relationship, when that time in our life is trying to be discussed, you sink back into your dungeons and dragons. After one of us grumbles something at the other, I then listen to you drone on for twenty minutes at your highest level possible about whatever was accidentally said, we separate into our own rooms. It’s always about money lately, a typical couple’s argument.  I know this path in our life is not cheap, each penny you feel the need to pinch at. I know it is a big hump that we will have to work on, one that I apparently never contribute anything towards. But, I will turn my ears off if you’re just going to sit there and basically tell me how worthless I am.

It all comes down to the last person you think of at night. That’s where your heart is. My heart that I am willing to devote towards you. I know that life is tough, but darling, I know that you are as well. Maybe we just need to let shit go and start over. Just try to erase all what we were talking about today, as hard as I know that will be for you. You can’t let one tiny little dust particle that upsets you off your mind for two hours. Besides, I need to listen to you drone on about it, complaint after complaint. Then, I sit and I listen, because I love you.

I sometimes believe that you are the definition of negative. At times, I have a difficult time not falling off of my positive path. Nevertheless, when I sit and listen to you complain about one small thing that has made you upset for a half-hour, it does bring me down a little. So, find a way to uplift my spirit!

I know that I can make you smile. I leave you alone when you come home from work. I do welcome you home with my hugs of love, I can never stop wrapping my arms around you. I learn that you have a lot of fun when we go see our Elvis on Friday nights. We get to have a good time with the ladies that you work with, not to mention I get to gaze upon the glory of my new teen-crush (I love you more.) Yet, as soon as his last words are singing, your grey cloud returns and I do not know which path we are supposed to continue on for the evening to make your adorable smile continue.

Just keep that cute smile upon your face, my love. For I will always be the arms you can come to, even if you don’t need a thing.

I hate everyone

My Normal Life

Big Butts In a Can Of Limes

315. That is a big number. It’s also the biggest that has appeared on my scale at this point in my life. One would think this number be would be my motivation to lose the big butt that I sing about every week. But it is not. I really don’t have any right now. The more you weigh, the harder you are to kidnap.

I really don’t like my pants. I do wish I didn’t have to re-stretch my t-shirts after I washed them every time. I still make the same wish to my fairy every night, who seems to have been lost for the past twenty years, the same wish when my head is on my pillow at night: I wish that when I am awake in the morning, the weight on my scale will be what I ask her for, a healthy one, and every person in my life will think that is how my body has always been. Or, I should just ask my fairy to finally motivate me to get off of my fat ass and to actually try to do what I have been wanting my lazy self to do for these past six months; lose 100 pounds. I have a free gym attached to my apartment, after all. I also ask her that it would be so simple for me to lose five pounds in one day, even if I just sneeze. Or maybe, even easy for my body to just lose 20 pounds. For, once I lose 20 pounds, I will be inspired to continue on to 5 more and then 10 more and then 20 more until I have reached my goal.

However, you all need to leave me alone about it. I do not want to do any of this when I feel like this topic is brought up and shoved into my face constantly. I don’t always run from my problems. I just continue to sit in my chair, play on my computer and ignore them. Like an adult. I need to motivate myself. I need to force myself to do this. I need to want to do this. I have so many reasons why I already want to, though. I want to be able to climb up a flight of stairs without being out of breath. I want to walk into any store ready to pick from all of the clothes that are upon the shelves. I want to be able to sleep in my boyfriend’s favorite t-shirt.  I just want it to be so simple. But nothing in life is easy. I can’t make everybody happy. It’s not like I’m a taco. And I don’t even like taco’s that much. I really prefer chicken nuggets, which I eat too much of.

I wasn’t picked on when I was younger. I consider myself lucky. I know that when growing up at a certain age, any girl is subject to bullying. I never really had trouble walking up to other children and just joining in on the fun. I joined my school’s theater club to help me continue down my happy path while in high school. I had no problem getting up on stage and preform whatever role I was given at the top of my lungs. I did feel like I was supposed to have a boyfriend, though, and I felt the only reason no guy responded to my smiles was because I wasn’t the same shape as every girl in the school, the sticks that walked upon the halls. I still did not let myself sink into that hole I knew was trying to drag me down.

In my world, I felt awesome.  I was able to be up on that stage. I was able to make so many friends being involved in this that I have lost count. These were real friends, too. These are people I am still in touch with fifteen years later. They did not judge me by my round butt, or wide hips. They did not care that fat hung off my arms or that I had to buy my clothes in the adult woman’s section. They liked me for me.

Even as my life continues, since 33 is such an old age, I am still able to do this. I have my days where I critic the way I look more than I’m sure any other person around me does. I think I’m more judgmental about my appearance than I was in my younger years. When I am getting ready to shower, I will stand and pick and pull at every piece of my body in the mirror. I will stand and mentally tell myself that I need to change what is in front of me. I need to get rid of this piece and that piece. Even though there is a person in another room that I am able to sexually induce in some way, I still feel that I need to wake up the next day and the body that I have been wishing for, for the past fifteen years will be there when I throw the covers off myself the next day. Yet, instead of carrots or apples, I reach over for cheese bread and diet cola as I conclude my writing. So, my fat ass will always remain upon my body until my psychic will finally be correct about one thing in my life.

 

Abraham big butts