A Very Lucky Girl

You know what I've learned in 2013? My "family" sucks. The people who are supposed to always be there for you and make unselfish decisions for the group have quit. Self-centeredness has prevailed. They've made it clear they don't need me. Or want me.  S/O to all parents out there: if you're going to reject your kids later in life don't even have them. Because you will ruin their lives.  It may be the "best" time of their lives, but it is my WORST. And it is never-ending.  Just when I am trying to find stability in Houston, trusting the one parent who hadn't betrayed me, I discover I can't trust him not to hurt me either.  6 weeks trumps 21 years? Oh ok. Noted.  There is no one left and no where to go. Congratulations all, your collective decisions have made me wish I had never been born. 

"Well I smoke and I fish But not near enough to satisfy an itch Aw but girl understand  I need something to do with my hands I don't work on a car And I'm as bad at pool As I am at throwing darts And golf, not a fan I need something to do with my hands So maybe I can stick 'em in your pockets Run 'em through your hair And we can get to rockin' There you are and baby here I am And I need something to do with my hands" Thomas Rhett, artist of the country hit, "Something To Do With My Hands," is at a loss. And, though he seems to think I do, this girl does NOT understand. As catchy as the tune may be, I do not accept responsibility for providing an activity for Mr. Rhett's appendages. He may not "stick 'em" in my pockets or "run 'em" through my hair.  Instead, he may do any of the following: Make me a sandwich Write a 5,000 word essay about the rape culture we live in and the harm a song like

I have not felt terribly inspired to write lately. I am starting to think I am in over my head with school and work and factoring in time for people. I did not get a single nap last week. This was devastating considering naps are one of the Great Loves of my life. They are my Tad Hamilton.  I'll just leave this here... But on Sunday afternoon, I snagged a two hour nap AND was inspired by the greatest onscreen kiss of all time. This kiss was pure poetry and gave me, the viewer, butterflies. I immediately rewound the shot to experience it again.  Tyler and I are halfway through the second season of New Girl. Because we are so far behind, I knew this moment would eventually occur based on present media, but the advanced knowledge was part of the build up to make this kiss so MAGIC. There was a season and a half of tension between these two and to finally watch it manifest itself in Nick's aggressive first move...GAH. Inspiring. Can I just do everything in my life with th

I realized lately how comfortable Tyler and I are in our relationship. It's honestly amusing. There are several conversations and phrases we say now that would have been taboo on our first date about a year and a half ago. I was feeling sick the other week and demonstrated for him how much phlegm was in my throat by making a truly heinous noise. Instead of dumping me in disgust, he laughed.  We never back away from the double chin snapchat and had a contest at lunch the other day to see who could create the most chins. He won and was proud of his victory.  We confidently yell through the bathroom door mid-pee. The first time he tried to talk to me through the bathroom door I was hesitant: "Wait, you're really doing this? Are we there?" Apparently we were and have been ever since. He found a quarter in his bed one night and asked, "where did this come from?" I promptly responded, "I poop quarters." Mistake. Whenever he needs change now, he c

"From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint, lead me to the rock that is higher than I." Psalm 61:2.  We started a new thing in our Junior Girls CRU bibly study on Monday nights. We memorize someone's favorite verse every week. Last week was Erin's. Another translation changes it to "as my heart is overwhelmed," a truly accurate phrase for what I've felt lately. I am an unapologetic Christian cynic. I know the right answers, I've been taught them since I could talk.  But the right answers seem so trite to me when I hurt. They make me mad. It's not that easy. "All things work out how God wants them to." Cool. Good for Him. But they aren't working out how I want them.  "Well, you're supposed to want God's will." But isn't He also supposed to do what is best for me? How is constant pain good for me? "Trials make you better." I've had my fair share, thanks.  The rig

Htown is the best town. Or at least one of the best. As much as I dislike Texas for their disgusting burnt orange team-BOOMER SOONER-I am falling in love with a humid city. The six hour drive is well worth it when I see the skyline appear out of nowhere in my windshield.  My fall break with my father was far too short, but we crammed all kinds of fun into two short days. He made gumbo a few days ago and I thrived on the leftovers as soon as I arrived. The next morning we set up my membership with him at the gym, settled some bank accounts, and watched "Hope Springs" with Meryl Streep after another meal of gumbo. I give it about 3 stars. Wonderful message about pushing through marriage even when it sucks, but about 8 sex scenes too many. It's Murphey's law: if you are watching a movie with a parent, it will depict uncomfortable, cringe-worthy scenes.  On Friday night we dined at Black Walnut and headed to the House of Blues for the Bosom Ball, a breast cancer awarene

To be honest, I didn't *technically* receive this blogging award since my account is a blogspot and not a wordpress. Gah, blog politics. However, Miranda assured me she tried in vain to nominate averyluckygirl-taylor, so I'm going to bask in the thought and pretend it is legitimate. This is the part in an award ceremony where they call my name and I accept the nomination with quirky gestures and a quote, becoming instantly gifable and timeless. However, since I am sadly not Jennifer Lawrence, I will merely nod, smile demurely, and write what the nomination requires! Recipients of the Liebster Award must: LIST 11 RANDOM FACTS ABOUT YOU. ANSWER THE QUESTIONS THAT WERE ASKED OF YOU (BY THE BLOGGER THAT NOMINATED YOU). NOMINATE 11 OTHER BLOGS FOR THE LIEBSTER BLOG AWARD AND LINK TO THEIR BLOGS. NOTIFY THE BLOGGERS OF THEIR AWARD. ASK THE AWARD WINNERS 11 QUESTIONS TO ANSWER ONCE THEY ACCEPT THE AWARD I've essentially answered the 11 random facts about me  here ,

I am an avid supporter of running. I don't necessarily always love it, nor am I as good at it as my dad or other fanatics, but I do think a jog is a wonderful thing. Add colors of the rainbow to a 5k and I am all in. I've participated in The Color Run in Tulsa twice so when I heard about the Run or Dye race in Oklahoma City on September 28th I signed up immediately. The long-awaited day arrived, and with it came rainstorms of downpour proportions. The 7 AM Run or Dye check-in quickly turned into a Swim or Dye with several drenched, white t-shirt contest participants. I held out hope for the "rain or shine" start that Run or Dye advertised and so Megan and I were there, laced and ready to run. As we eyed the other runners taking refuge in their car, we scrolled through the Facebook updates, desperate for some news, be it yay or nay. Oklahoma residents are not strangers to inclement weather. We are aware of the split-second changes and often have "a little rain

I've shared before my dream of studying abroad. On Friday I was informed of my acceptance to the University of Dundee for Spring 2014. I've been saving and saving to make this dream a reality and I'm hoping to make my savings stretch as far as I can. And I am talking geographically. I'm thrilled to be moving to Dundee, Scotland for a semester, but I'd love to explore as much as Europe as I can while I'm in the vicinity! My location bucket list includes: Italy: This is my number one, would-pee-with-happiness-if-I-got-to-go, destination. Rome, Venice, Florence. I'd love to do it all, but I'd settle for just Rome. Also, POMPEII, PLEASE. Mount Vesuvius is practically the only thing I remember from middle school history.  Ireland: This is a far more realistic location, considering it neighbors Scotland. Also, St. Patrick's day will occur while I'm abroad, and where else would I celebrate such a holiday!? England: I'm coming for you, Prince H

On this auspicious day in history, the day Aaron Samuels asked Cady Heron what day it was in math class, I thought it would be appropriate to take a look at what I have learned from countless screenings of Tina Fey's infamous film. It's okay to have a routine.  Try new hairstyles. They might just work out. Don't overdue it when getting ready. Everyone is different. Embrace what separates you.  Diets are for squares. Glen Coco is the epitome of cool. As much as I and Gretchen Weiners want it to, fetch is never going to happen. No sex is the best sex. Thanks Coach Carr. The best hiding spot for anything is Gretchen's hair. Be flexible enough to make disasters fabulous. If someone says they like your outfit you should be suspicious. Meanness gets you nowhere. Gretchen Weiners is a closet terrorist. If you hang around with the wrong people long enough, you run the risk

I factor in naps at every opportunity. Done with class for the day? Naptime. Just finished dinner? Naptime. Stressed out? Naptime. I don't know what is so satisfying about snippets of sleep during the day. Maybe it's the rush of doing nothing while the world keeps going on around you. Whatever it is, I'm addicted. I was asked at CRU what national holiday I would add to the already full repertoire. Without missing a beat, I blurted out "National Nap Day!" Obviously. Taylor had the next best thing, Second Christmas. Squeeze that bad boy in between July 4th and Flag Day and everybody wins. You'd never have to wait 365 days for Christmas again! What a concept. Anyway, back to naps. I probably use them most as an escape mechanism. Forget vats of alcohol or scores of heroin. Give me a good nap, where homework assignments cease to exist, phone notifications go unnoticed, and all that remains are my covers, my blanket , and me. Anxiety escapes me during REM cycles