Taking Time Off

Two years ago, I wore a long white gown with a matching cap and I walked across the same stage as two hundred of my peers after thirteen long years with some of them. Mostly, I was excited to never have to wake up for school again. I was excited to get away from teachers, homework, tests, and hall passes. I thought the freedom would be great. At the time, I had no idea what my personal freedom would look like. That's right, I graduated undecided and, now, two years later, I still am. I told everyone I would take a year off and figure out what I wanted to go to school for. I decided I would wait and save up money and then go to school. I thought I could spend my twenties growing

Yours Truly

           If you’re reading this, I hope you never have your entire life ripped out from under you. I hope you never have to experience a broken heart, if you haven’t already. There’s only one person I would ever wish to feel as low as I feel now and he just so happens to be legally bound into never feeling this way unless death do them part. Today, the love of my life is getting married… and it isn’t to me. I realize I might seem very creepy, being parked outside the church three hours before the wedding is set to start. If anyone recognizes me, I’m sure there’ll be trouble. I’m not an ex-boyfriend. We were low key and I like to refer to our togetherness as a friendship on fire because we never made it to the official side of being in a relationship. It didn’t matter. I already knew I would love her forever from the moment she first smiled up at me like I was the greatest thing in her life. I’ll never forget the smile on her face. I never thought things would make a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn. Yet, here I am, two years later, trying to decide if I should crash this wedding, watch it happen, or go home and forget the whole thing. My head says one thing, my heart says another, and my friends all say something different. I’m not exactly sure which to follow but at least I have another two and a half hours to decide.

          When I was in tenth grade, I fell in love with a girl and I’ve never been the same since. I’m not the smooth kind of guy who can charm girls with my wit. Falling in love with Lucy was an accident and I never planned to fall as hard as I did. I never really cared about dating in high school. I never really understood the point, or dating in general, really. My dad said he was the same way until he met my mom. I always rolled my eyes when he said that, thinking he didn’t mean it but was only saying what he thought Mom would want to here, just in case she was in ear shot or in case she would happen to ask me for any reason. I knew exactly what he was talking about when Lucy found my study hall one day to return some notes I’d left in a library book. I thanked her for bringing them back and she thanked me for leaving them behind because they apparently really helped her finish the paper she was writing. I’ll never forget that grateful, childlike smile she gave me as she sat the scribbled notes on my desk. She looked at her shoes and I could tell it was my turn to say something interesting and wow her before she walked away. I’d never seen her before and with a school as big as ours, I probably wouldn’t see her again if I didn’t have an excuse. Unfortunately for me, my brain didn’t work fast enough and she politely excused herself before I could say another word. I was kicking myself for two weeks after that. The only reason I eventually stopped was because we switched classes due to the start of our spring semester. By some work of fate, I walked into half my classes and she was already sitting there, usually a seat in front or behind me because our last names were so close alphabetically. I like to believe it wasn’t just my imagination when she saw me the first time that day and her eyes lit up. When it came time to partner up on things, we usually made eye contact and worked together, pretty well, I might add. Even in the classes we had with my friends, I still always worked with her. Sure they made fun of me for it but I didn’t care. It wasn’t until junior year that I actually admitted that I had feelings for her. I’m sure they already knew but I didn’t want to say it out loud, for fear that she didn’t feel the same way. I could assume whatever I wanted from her body language and think they were signals of some sort of attraction but there was always the embarrassing chance that I could be wrong.

                The warm summer sun is making my car feel cramped and more uncomfortable than the self-made tension surrounding my thoughts. The cold air coming from my vents feels great but I can practically see the gas tank needle receding. I should care but I don’t. I glance at the passenger seat next to me and eye up the newspaper clipping that’s been sitting there for a month or two. The couple smiling in the picture seems like two strangers I’ve never met before. Just the names catch my attention. In black in white, seeing her name was what caught my attention in the first place. Otherwise I might’ve never known. I might not be sitting in this mostly empty church parking lot, trying to decide my fate.

         
Looking back, I can always remember that one exact moment when I knew I would marry her one day. This moment is different than the moment I knew I would always love her because at this point, I knew she felt the same way and we would be happy together. We were at a football game during our senior year and she kept shivering but insisted she wasn't cold. It's so cliche, you know?  The girl takes the guy's sweatshirt and BAM! instant romantic comedy, right? I think that's exactly why Lucy wouldn't admit she was cold around everyone because they would probably get sappy and our friends have a habit of blowing things out of proportion. At the end of the game, it was after 10:30 and she was ready to leave and I saw her walk through the parking lot toward the exit. I realized she had walked to the game and was about to walk home. I was taking a big leap of faith when I ran after her. I liked her and made it obvious. I was pretty sure she liked me and so was everyone else. The major roadblock is the fact that she never really verbalized it. There were times when we acted like a couple and then there were times when she acted distant. So, when I shouted her name and she waited for me to catch up to her, standing in the cold September wind, her breaths appearing in front of her face, goosebumps on her arms, I could tell I wanted to marry her. Despite the fact that standing still was probably the worst thing anyone could do with the bitter winds blowing through our town that night. Yet, she heard my voice and stopped to wait and see what I wanted. Without asking, I took off my jacket and threw it over her shoulders. She didn't say anything, just smiled up at me and her eyes gave me the thanks her lips couldn't say. She walked to my car and I felt daring enough to slip an arm around her shoulder. She didn't shrug it off or get stiff with discomfort. She seemed pretty at-home under my arm and she looked at-home sitting in my passenger seat. I walked her to the door that night and thought for a second there might be a kiss goodnight. When her front door shut behind her and I hadn't been kissed, I realized I was getting a little ahead of myself but was still pretty stoked about all the progress I'd felt I'd made that night. All night I just thought of the way she looked in my sweatshirt and imagined that she accidentally fell asleep wearing it.I fell asleep that night, hoping Lucy would be wearing my sweatshirts for the rest of our lives.

     I texted her the next morning and waited for her response. At first, I thought maybe she was sleeping in but then morning turned to noon and it wasn't like her to sleep that late. I went to hang out with my friends to pass the time and pretty soon the night was ending and I still hadn't heard from her. I didn't her from her on Sunday either. I didn't really know what to think when I was driving to school Monday morning. I hoped I didn't upset her by moving too fast and I couldn't stop cursing myself for the moves I'd made. Before I got to school, I stopped and picked up chocolate milk, her favorite morning drink and hoped it would ease any kind of anger she might have against me. When I got into the building, the walk up the stairs took an eternity and I felt like I'd never get to my locker. When I did, there she was, waiting for me. Of course I was confused but the way her smile spread from ear to ear when she saw I was thinking of her this morning was enough to take away any fears or disappointment I'd developed over the weekend. I just guessed that she liked to keep me guessing. To this day, I still don't know what stopped her from texting me that weekend. I'm not sure she'd even remember it anymore. She might have just seen my text and then forgot to reply. I probably should have just texted her again but at the time, I probably didn't want to bother her. Who knows what I was thinking. I doubt that one weekend has anything to do with the outcome I'm trying to survive today but, chain reactions can be very powerful. All I really know for sure is that she was walking a whole lot closer to me when we left my locker and went to hers. Her whole demeanor seemed different. Since we became friends, she'd always been borderling flirty with me
    

LaDell Allen

     On a windy day, have you ever seen what happens to the bottle that is empty? The wind can just take it anywhere. It's funny how people are the same way. When we're empty, we'll go with anything, adapt to anyone, go anywhere. It's kind of sad, really. So when LaDell Allen blew away with the wind, go figure she blew all the way to Hell.
     Have you heard that story? If not, a great book to read would be A Haunted Love Story by Mark Spencer. He lives in the same house haunted by LaDell Allen's ghost. Even though it sounds creepy, her story is actually the most touching I've ever read. Maybe because it combines paranormal activity and forbidden love - two of my most favorite things. Or maybe my Mom is right and I am screwed up in the head.
     One day when Mr. Spencer was exploring his castle of a house, he reached the attic. Everyone knows the attics of old houses are where all the coolest things are found. Mark found the written love letters between LaDell and her secret lover, Prentiss Hemingway. These two love birds lived way back in the 1920s (also the same era of The Notebook) which is when the biggest business was oil. I guess you could say Prentiss was the Bill Gates of that time, only younger and way better looking because women practically fainted when he walked past them, or so that's how LaDell made him out to sound. She absolutely loved the man from her hair follicles to her toenails... which is why it sucked that he wasn't married to her.
     The Allen House, as it has become famous as, is located in Monticello, AK. Google up some pictures, you know you want to. It looks absolutely huge and my boyfriend said it looks haunted. It's my dream place to live. That's where all of the forbidden love took place, ya see?
     Prentiss grew up in Monticello but moved away with his mother to the bigger cities when she got into fashion (This also the same time period as Coco Chanel!). Though LaDell and Prentiss hadn't officially met before he moved away, they met when he returned to Monticello to cure a bad case of nostalgia. I think it was on a train where they first exchanged glances and then ended up exchanging saliva. He was in town for the better part of the summer and they began to court. Real old-fashioned, romantic stuff. He took her out on the town, sat on the front porch talking with her until the late hours of the night, and he kissed her with tender lips every time he had to leave. The problems arose when he had to head back to the big city and leave LaDell behind. They lost touch, like majorly. She married a Bonner and he married some floozy who was only in touch with the numbers in his bank account. The real tragedy begins when Prentiss heads back to Monticello for some business and runs into LaDell again - whose husband had recently passed and son had moved away. She was alone and empty and I guess she saw Prentiss and was reminded of the almost teenaged relationship they'd had before. Of course he was able to sweep her away again. She knew he was married, don't try to think she didn't. And, back then, carrying on with a married man was Social Suicide. She did her best to keep it a secret - even from her own mother. Prentiss and LaDell exchanged love letters through the snail mail and visited secretly sometimes. She would go to the big cities on shopping sprees and he would come to Monticello for 'business' aka pleasure.
     On Christmas Eve, after two years of her being the mashed potatoes on the side, LaDell had finally had enough. She wrote her final letter to Prentiss and sent it through the mail. At her mother's Christmas party, she stole an entire tray of cheese and a glass of wine. She washed her last meal down with cyanide. She didn't leave a note to her mother. They just found her rotted body the next morning and time moved on. Who knows how the letters got hidden under floor boards in the attic?
     Ladies, take this as a lesson. If you're the mashed potatoes, don't think he's gonna leave the chicken for you. Get out before he kicks you out because, to him, you are only temporary.

My Kind of Crazy

Tonight, the eve of my boyfriend and I's second month of courting, was probably the best night I've ever spent with any single person. You always see those super romantic things that those couples do in all the chick flick-y movies but outside the TV screen, you don't really hear of them. Tonight, Wesley and I took a walk through a beautiful summer meadow... in the pouring rain. The path was covered in puddles, the trees were dripping raindrops, and our hands were slipping apart  in the downpour. We took refuge under this porch roof of an on-property smokehouse. He sat on this firewood box and I sat on the ground between his legs and I remember looking around and seeing no one else. The rain, the crickets chirping, the sun setting, the puddles, the mud - it was all just for us, our own private scene of perfection. And as the acidic rain softened our skin and curled our hair, I knew with each glance at his soft blue eyes that this evening was ours and no one could take it from us. When our lips finally met, I knew he was The One.

Now that the Yuck Fest is over, you'll be glad to know that Wes and I  aren't always like this... so don't expect Taylor Swift entries too often. But, when it happens,  I'll be sure to let you know,  that way you lady readers know what you deserve and you gentleman readers know what you should be doing.

Mr. Right

Whenever I was in eighth grade, I met the coolest cat ever. Of course I had a crush on him. Every morning in homeroom, I'd stare at him until he  blushed. Apparently that wasn't enough evidence for him to figure out that I was diggin him. Oh well. I daydreamed about being his girlfriend each day in middle school and now I get to live it each day and instead daydream about marrying him. I get that we're still just two teenagers in puppy love but damn I wanna marry this kid!

For those of you out there struggling, thinking Mr. Right isn't out there or maybe your thinking he's too far out of your reach... don't lose hope. Hes in the last place you'll ever look.

Word Count: 507

     Word to the wise: Never ask a girl why she likes her boyfriend. She’ll probably get a childish grin across her face and won’t shutup for the next few hours. Most girls can go on for hours and name more reasons than they have hair follicles about why their boyfriend is so much better than anyone else’s. Most girls... But I’m not one of those.

                When someone asks you ‘Why?’, your answer begins with ‘Because…’. What did English class teach you about this word? It’s a conjuction whose meaning is ‘for the reason of; due to the fact that…’. In Layman’s terms: When you hear the word ‘Because’, you’re about to get an excuse or a reason. You’re about to get an explanation to justify someone’s actions, thoughts, or feelings. And that’s not how my heart works. I can’t give you a million excuses why I like my boyfriend. I can’t give you a hundred reasons why I like my boyfriend. My heart doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone. It likes who it likes and there isn’t a damn reason why.

                So if you ask me if my boyfriend is cute, I’m going to say yes – because he is. If you ask me if he makes me smile, I’m going to say yes – because he does that, too. He also has one of the best playlists I’ve ever heard, he’s smooth without even trying, he gives the best hugs, and I adore his curls. These aren’t reasons why I like him. These are additives, extras, bonuses, things that make liking him even better. I don’t like him because he has blonde curls that I can run my fingers through. If that would be true, I wouldn’t feel the same way if he cut his hair.

                If you have to base your feelings for someone on physical characteristics, material possessions, or even on anything at all, you probably don’t have any real feelings at all. If you have to back your love up with excuses or reasons, maybe you need to rethink it. People always say that there’s no such thing as falling out of love because you either still do or you never did. But there’s something everyone’s missing.  The wife that doesn’t love her high school sweetheart anymore after 12 years is probably telling the truth. Don’t call her a liar. She fell in love with the seventeen year old boy who walked her down the hallway and carried her books.  One day, she woke up and that boy was gone. He grew older, into a man who is starting to wrinkle and whither.

                So, back to the original question: Why do I like my boyfriend? Why do I want to be with him? What about him makes me want to stay? If the past four hundred seventy one words didn’t answer any of those questions, maybe I can answer with just three more. Why do I Iike my boyfriend? I just do. Plain and simple, short and sweet. I didn’t need five hundred words.

To Procreate or Not To Procreate...

     I work retail. This is a fact I have been too ashamed to admit for the longest time in my life and I think it's finally time I embrace it. Honestly, there are so many reasons why I hate it and sometimes I really wonder why I don't just quit. I've wanted to. "It's a steady job" mom says. "You need to save money" mom says. Well, I never thought a job would have as much impact on my life as this one has. In the almost ten months I've spent on those rubbery mats in front of a touchscreen cash register, I've had so many compromised ideas about life and what I thought I'd wanted. One of the main ones is having children.
     When you go out anywhere you always hear screaming kids. Always. When you're at a church, there's a kid who always cries when everyone else is silent for prayer. When you go to a basketball game or a football game, there's always one kid screaming before the end of the national anthem, ruining the whole thing. Walking through the aisles at your local walmart, there's always some brat screaming about what he or she wants mommy to buy that she just won't. They. Are. Everywhere.
     Don't get me wrong, I want kids. Or I really did at one point, at least. Garrett and I have dreamt of reproducing, screwing them up, and then growing old alone together when our children grow away from us. We even have names picked out :D But maybe we should just stick with dogs...
     A girl I went to elementary school with is graduating from our class separately because she had to drop out of school for having a baby. For the longest time, I thought I wanted that, too. I had baby fever so badly and wished that Garrett and I would accidentally have a baby but the other week, I had the best realization the planet. I really felt amazing inside after I thought this, too. The babymama was posting on Facebook about how she had just been hired for the first time and couldn't wait for her first paycheck. What is she doing with the money?

a) Buying her baby some clothes

b) saving for the baby's college    

c) getting tattoos and piercings     

     Hint: It's the last one. For real, I turn 18 in two days and I'm soooo excited to get my nose pierced and get some kind of little tattoo and just celebrate that I'm 18 finally and am old enough to do these things. I can understand why she wants these things. But if I had a baby, I would spend all my money on him/her...not putting things on my body that are COMPLETELY non-essential. For a few days after I decided I was going to do this, I felt somewhat guilty about spending money on these things but then the amazing thoughts hit me, the ones I was telling you about! I don't have a baby! So many customers have told me that having kids ties you down and that they wouldn't recommend it. They always say that. "I don't recommend it but I don't regret it". I have really started to not want kids. I'm not whatever about it anymore. I don't want them. Some of me even hopes that I'm infertile so I don't have to worry about protection in the future and won't have consequences. (Sorry to those of you out there who are infertile and are offended by my wishes).

     Honestly I'm very motherly to the friends around me and that's enough for me. I don't want to be responsible for registering a child for kindergarten and taking them to the doctor for every little thing.  I don't want to share Garrett with a baby who has half of him living inside. I don't want that. I'm reading a Nicholas Sparks book right now called The Best of Me and one of the main characters and his wife were unable to have children and these characters were so in love and romantic. I know I shouldn't hold Garrett to the standards of a Nicholas Sparks book because that just isn't fair but I can't help it. I can't help feeling that Garrett and I's future marriage will be stronger without kids.

     So, readers, if you disagree and would like to convince me to be Pro-Procreating, let me know. Until then, I'll let you know if something else changes my mind.