A Very Lucky Girl

I have a new address. A new place with which to answer the question, "So, where are you from?" Houston is my new home.  My dad and I moved into the new house over the Labor Day weekend. It's in a great location, close to countless yummy places to eat (I think I gained 10 pounds in 3 days), and also near a great running park (in order to counteract those yummy eateries).  Houston is only about an hour and a half away from Beaumont, so I'm looking forward to being so close to Moriah over Christmas break and summer. My elementary school friend, Nick (except now he's Mathison and I keep getting it wrong!), will graduate from Rice in May and he introduced me to a great new church I'm looking forward to attending more often when I come home.  There's a lot of looking forward going on. I can't change the events that brought me to Houston. They are in the past. But over the years and moves, I've become a pro at making the most of where I am, physically ...

I left this draft blank for several weeks because I think this is one of the hardest tributes for me to write. One of the most difficult things this year has been seeing the imperfections in my own parents. It was silly of me to hold them so high in my mind, but I think it's a natural instinct for any child. I love my dad a lot. He has disappointed me in 2013. But at the same time I'm very proud of him for facing struggles honestly. I've talked to him as an equal adult more this year than any other and I like to think he's listened to me sometimes.   He's been my storyteller, my coach, and my biggest fan. He's been my enemy, my provider, and my companion. I wouldn't trade him for any other father.  I learned in Sociology of Family last semester that fathers are usually the parent who encourages their kids to take risks. Paul has done that for me. Sometimes without a choice; moving is always a risk and I've done it several times. But with those...

It seems fitting that the 5th phone I will ever own will be the iPhone 5, courtesy of my wonderfully amazing father, Paul Arceneaux.  talk about being A Very Lucky Girl... If all goes according to plan, my new technology should arrive in Oklahoma City TODAY. And then it should enter my life the next weekend when I go home to spend time with my grandparents. So...less than 10 days? I can handle that!  It's been a long road to this day in Taylor history. I was one of the few (the proud?) that lacked a cellular device all throughout middle school and even freshman year! Who remembers that HOME PHONES have speed dial? The deal I made with Paul and Sharbear aided in my achievement of all A's (barely-damn geometry with Mrs. Kucik!) to kick start high school. The move to Beaumont and my stellar grades culminated in... The red one. Sharbear took one for the team and claimed the brown model. I don't recommend TMobile to anyone, by the way. But I do recommend an unlimite...

Paul and Shari need their own show. With special guest appearance by yours truly, because I definitely add a little bit of technicolor to their exchanges. We never see Oakes so he’s not really necessary to production. Shari has said to me before that she lives in constant dire fear of what I will tweet, Facebook, or blog about next. She will say something funny or blonde and I will just happen to be typing on my phone, and the next instant she’ll shriek and exclaim, “DON’T tweet that!” Sorry Mom, it comes with the territory. For instance: I went to eat with them at Slim Chickens this past weekend. I think it was karmic retribution for making Megan be a third wheel a few weekends ago because I was president of third wheeldom on Friday night. Dinner conversation somehow meandered to my age. Dad: I wish you were 21. Taylor: Me and you both. But why do you wish this? Dad: you could come to the bar with me tomorrow night and watch this show blahblahblahblahmojomen?bl...

As a college student, home has taken on a new meaning. I can refer to home and mean two entirely different geological points on a map: Norman and Oklahoma City. I feel like a potted plant in a Uhaul. It can be placed anywhere, but it doesn't have a permanent home. It can migrate from the living room to the kitchen, from Raleigh to Beaumont, but is constantly packing up its leaves and dirt for the next transfer. I can't wait for the time that I can be thoroughly planted somewhere (preferably not Oklahoma, like we already discussed) and put down worry-free roots. The college home is an independent place. But with my home at OU comes different struggles; constant interaction, constant academic mindset, and less rest. My family's home in Quail Creek has the drawback of consistent (though minimal) supervision, but the plus sides of free laundry, free food, a room of my own, and access to a car.  My family makes that home something wonderful to travel to. I can't wait t...

“I am a princess. All girls are, even if they live in tiny, old attics. Even if they dress in rags, even if they aren’t pretty, or smart, or young. They’re still princesses. All of us. Didn’t your father ever tell you that? Didn’t he?”-The Little Princess Paul taught me that I am princess. When I was younger we would go on daddy-daughter dates every so often, maybe once or twice a month. They weren't anything big or fancy, but he would pay for my Sonic drink and still opens the car door for me when he comes to pick me up at school, subconsciously instilling expectations for future boyfriends (so far most have sucked in comparison). He even let me drive his midlife crisis car (a Mercedes convertible SLK? SRK? it's tiny and shiny) a few times in Beaumont; in fact, I think it's about time for another joyride soon... He and I are a lot alike, which has led to some volatile disagreements over the years. We both love to make people laugh, but hate to be wrong. We both used to...

Paul and Shari (my parents) are currently spending the week in Seattle, coffee capital of America. Which is especially fitting because Paul has managed to make Starbucks a food group. I place all blame on him for my addiction to Java Chip Frappuccinos.  While they are making good choices culinary-wise, Paul needs a personal shopping companion (Shari isn't cutting it) so that he never pays money for a look like this again.  I tried to stop him. Really, I did. But there is only so much I can do from Norman while they are out gallivanting across the country. Shari informed me of his impending travesty and my fingers immediately typed out, "stop him." Isn't that the reflex you had whilst looking upon this photo and trying to pause the gag reflex? It's universal. Fearing that Shari wouldn't pass on my message, I took matters into my own hands and texted him, advising him to think very carefully about his wardrobe choices. His response? Take a look. (For t...