Truth, or Lie.

Lets be real. These mushy wanna be quotes kill me. Only half are true and all girls know it.

1) I want to wear your sweatshirt to bed: LIE. I enjoy my oversized t-shirt and underwear. Sweatshirts that are big eat me alive at night. No thank you
2)Watch scary movies with you. SEMI TRUE. If you are just getting to know a guy, duh. It gives you the reason to be RIGHT next to them and hold him tight at the "scary" parts. If your in a relationship no. (see #6)
3) Talk on the phone until sunrise: LIE. I like sleep... a lot.
4) Sneak out to watch the stars with you: LIE. Stars are romantic but so are your eyes which will be locked to mine and not the stars.
5) Play your favorite video game: LIE. It's not fun after I get killed a ba-jillion time. Ego boost for you, tired of blood on the screen for me.
6) Make you watch chic flicks: TRUTH. Need I say more?
7) Kiss you in the rain: LIE. I get freezing in the rain and want to be dry and warm and watch it from indoors. The Notebook makes it look way more fun.
8) Go on walks with you: TRUTH
9) Laugh until I can't breathe: LIE. When I can't breath I have to use my inhaler. Not sexy.
10) Hold hands: TRUTH. Especially in public, movies, car, you name it.
11) I want to fall hopelessly in love with you: TRUTH

Resolutions, kinda.

The infamous new year's kiss. The new year's resolutions, the wanting to be better and more accomplished then last year. Thankfully I didn't make any this past year, or at least I don't remember. But I have been thinking of my future, where I would like to be within the next year and how the heck I am going to do so. I want to change the world, save all the homeless dogs on the planet, and de-ball the idiots (mostly exes) that need Darwin's theory to hit em hard. I am planning to out do myself this year. I am going to eat more delicious desserts then before, fall in love and not regret it, buy more clothes then I need, celebrate with wine because I have wine, make more crafts, enjoy running, or at least try to, get more manicures, and love myself more and don't let the little things get to me. Why make the year hard to do? Why not enjoy it?

Grow a VAGINA!

Like the infamous Betty White says, "Why do people say, 'Grow some balls!' Balls are weak and sensitive! If you really wanna get tough, grow a Vagina! Those things take a pounding."

You may think this is a graphic topic, but I know everyone has seen balls. I remember as a child there was this big black bull on our ranch and he had balls the size of my head. I never dared to ask what they were because right beside the massive swinging pendulum there was this HUGE thing that peed. I knew that it was probably a private part and didn't want to ask my dad afraid of the tender birds and bees' talk at the age of 8. This bull though, walked around like he knew he had the balls the size of king kong. It was hard not to stare at them only because they were right at my eye level.

Not only are balls on ranches, but people now hang balls on the back of truck hitches. I believe its the desire of wanting some, so hanging the "wanna be" size on the back is the next "logical" answer. Some are even gold or shiny silver only accenting the stupidity.

So why do we have to 'have balls' to do something? Why not vagina be the symbol of doing something your scared shitless to do? I mean, have y'all seen how a work of art it is? There are statues of woman and their vaginas'. The man statues are along side but have tinsel on top or cover their package with a pity leaf, which only validates the reasoning of showing their true 'manhood'. The women statues don't need to be covered with leaves because, lets be real, who needs to cover success? If I need to reiterate more, here are a few reasons:

Women birth 8 pound bowling balls from vaginas and somehow they shrink back and still live from the entire process.
Vaginas create life. Yes, men contribute, but over half of their little guys die before getting to the end of the rainbow.
Vaginas don't fall on their knees and create awful baby cries if gotten kicked. I have kicked balls (sorry brother) and have gotten kicked and I don't feel the need to cry out that you killed my birthing rights.

I feel the list could go on, but out of respect for the guys and the fidgety people reading this, I think y'all get the point. Y'all men have talent: fixing the pipes in the bathroom, finding time to fix the car instead of the dishes in the sink, and all the other manly stuff. And for the men that are reading this and feeling a bit of a inferiority complex, listen up... GROW A VAGINA!!!

Calm.

You calm me like the soft fingers hitting the cream ivories. Crescendos tiptoe along my skin, creating goosebumps like a cold wet chicken that has be de-featherd, waiting to roast itself in the oven. As soon as it settles in the burning oven, as you do with your breath, as if the sun soaks into my brain, my toes finally feeling what the snow has hidden. Like ice melting onto the pavement, soaking soft leather boots, droplets dancing up and down. Settling into the corner cafe with coffee tingling my fingers, each sip gliding down, filling the spaces that have been trapped by the bitterness of the last snow storm. You create a feeling that hasn't come since plastic smelling, glitter inducing jelly shoes as I wore everyday to elementary school. I dance in the rain, letting the drops hit my eyelashes, my chilled lips, and my blonde hair that turns brown when moisture hits, as if I am in the shower letting the warm water hit my back, sliding down softly, like silk sheets against shaven legs. You calm me. You make me want to breath the cold air, piercing my lungs forming frost, yet allowing me to see my own breath like a cigarette smoke from a hooker. I need you the way summer goes into winter, the way fall creeps into the trees spinning gold and red amongst the sky.

I dont count my boobs as weight!

 "Whenever I check my weight, I always subtract 5 lbs. I don't think a girl's boobs or brain should every count against them."

I also take off 5 pounds for my jeans, 2 for my shoes, and 3 to 5 depending if and how much I ate. Even with the possible 15 pounds taken off I stand on the scale while my muffin top laughs at the number. I hop off, make sure the scale is truly set at "zero" and then step back on. Thunder thighs decides to join in with muffin top.

Scales lie, even though they say they don't. I can weight 10 pounds lighter then go to the doctor and somehow be ten pound heavier. I am not sure where those ten pounds came from, but trust me, I didn't eat ten pounds of fat just for the heck of it.

Some say don't use the scale as the true test of how much you weigh. Just eat healthy and exercise. I will eat 10 cookies and run, well try to run, for 10 minutes... healthy compromise? I use the scale now when I want to devour cinnamon rolls, 2 bowls of cereal of the best curly fries from Jack in the Box. I step on the scale as it flashes "low battery" aka "you step on me too much and your getting kinda heavy" and I realize thank goodness because those cookies are calling my name!!!

weekends...

My weekends are:

 The caffeine burst when you really need it

The feeling while peeing after holding it in for the longest time

SALES

The relief when I come home and the dogs haven't eaten something I have accidentally left out

A new song on repeat

Getting dolled up to go downtown

Clean warm laundry out of the dryer

Long warm showers

The way my dogs tilt their head while I eat

Freshly painted nails

Laughing with family at dinner

Waves

You capture my heart. Like the waves that catch the sun and the beach all in one. Creating the sound of grace that only waves can do. You amaze me. I can't wait to go out and swim. -Natalie

yeah I love you.

A lot of people go searching. Searching for treasures, for themselves, for something to make them feel alive. I have searched for all of them and have realized sometimes searching leaves you feeling more lost then if you just stay. I search for somethings and and more then once I have been disappointed, crushed, and left with empty spaces.

The one thing I have continually search for is happiness. I know true happiness makes life complete and think sometimes we want to have it right away. We want the instantaneous gratification, like Alice in Wonderland, where you drink a potion and get the results right away. I try to find happiness in men, the clothes on the sale racks, and all the other materialistic things. As fast as they come, it leaves. I keep trying, grasping, searching to fill the empty space rather then letting be.

Then tonight I heard the lyrics from Tenth Avenue North:

"Why are you looking for love?
Why are you still searching as if I'm not enough?
To where will you go child
Tell me where will you run, to where will you run?"

So many times I hear this song and I search for other things then the one that wants me all the time, and JUST the way I am, right now. Stubborn me. Until I search for God and be okay with giving him my all, I will continue  to search for things that don't fit.

"'Cos I 'll be by your side wherever you fall
In the dead of night, whenever you call
And please don't fight these hands that are holding you
My hands are holding you"

I will not be able to love me to the fullest until I love him. And how long my stubbornness will last, I don't know. I am not sure what the breaking point will be. I know he's gonna keep whispering, tug lightly and may even kick hard but he says he will keep doing this

"Cause I, I love you, I want you to know.
That I, yeah I love you, I'll never let you go" 

Man worth shaving my legs for

"Somewhere there is a man worth shaving my legs for"

Going to be real here. The only reason a girl shaves is if she wants to get more then just a free meal. If a guy asks you what you are doing and asks you to come over, you hurriedly say yes, take a razor to your dry legs, shave, then rub some good smelling lotion on after. You put on your sexiest bra, and make sure your bags under you eyes are concealed so he won't know its from staying up watching the Hallmark channel by yourself... and your dogs. I understand there are the times where you think nothing is going to happen and  your going to "watch" a movie but he is really wanting to feel you up and heading to rub your manly legs. This has happened to me. And I am just being real here. I didn't shave my legs for awhile. A month probably. I had no reason to shave. My dogs certainly didn't care, hence the licking of their butts in front of me. Hygiene wasn't important to them, so why should my hairy legs concern them?

So I didn't shave my legs and here I am about to "watch a movie." He goes in for the kill. He is about to rub my legs and I had to think fast. I do a flirtatious laugh as I move them away while simultaneously saying something ridiculously stupid, "Oh my goodness your curtains are so cute!" His mom probably put them up, but it gets him to sway his attention away from my cave woman legs. Then I do what so many girls do. Either 1) Text your roommate that she needs to call you and tell you to come home immediately or 2) turn your volume off on your phone and pretend you received a call and talk to yourself for awhile and say a lot of "uh huh," "ok," and so forth and say you'll be home soon. The guy probably knows but tries one more time. You keep your legs as FAR from his reach as possible. You look like one of the stepsisters from Cinderella with your butt in the air giving him one last tease of a kiss, because you know how to keep the boys coming. You walk out the door, hairy legs and all, and not only feeling confident that you didn't give into a guy, but you now don't have to shave for another month.

Diving into death of cotton balls

I do NOT do cotton balls or anything that feels like it. Put me around a cotton ball and I go mentally deranged. I look like a giraffe trying to go under a 7' bridge. I lean my head in all different angles and try to resist the synthetic like material. My face looks like my fingers after a 40 minute bath and my eyeballs start looking like I am staring directly into the sun. The noise that comes out of my mouth sounds like the combination of a chimpanzee mating and somebody taking a shit. It's just not a pretty sight and unless you want some entertainment, then I suggest you don't get me around it. How did I get like this? I didn't just pick up a cotton ball one day and decide this normal everyday object wasn't for me, I had to have a near death experience with this dreadful thing to be afraid of it.

I was in gymnastics as a child before my brother got us kicked you. I loved doing cartwheels and showing my dad everything I learned on our trampoline when I got home. Butt-drops were my specialty as it required no talent or balance. At the end of the gymnastic session which was a long tiring hour, we were able to do free time and jump into the "pit." This pit looked like a swimming pool, yet instead of water, it contained blocks that felt exactly like cotton balls. Everyone loved doing this at the end. They would jump as high as they could and torpedo into the pit off "fun."

My first time doing it I was so excited because at home we had a swimming pool and I loved diving into the water, so I figured this would be the same type of experience. Boy was I wrong. When I jumped into the blocks of styrofoam I literally became a spastic blonde trying to contain everything inside of me not to look like a total fool. Everything inside of my started to counteract and I just wanted to escape. Instead of just letting go of a cotton-ball that I had control of, I was surrounded by millions of them, laughing at my freak episode. It felt as horrible as a person running nails on a chalkboard. I had to "swim" out of it as my toes were curling and my eyes danced around in my head. I looked like a child frantically swimming in a kiddy pool. Once I reached the edge and climbed out, I decided from that day forth I would never jump in and rick my life like that or my dignity.


My mother asked me the days that followed why I didn't want to jump in the pit. I never told her. They say face your fears, but I will never jump into pothole of doom. Every time I have to repaint my toes I cringe and even looking at cotton balls I shudder. Thank goodness for pedicures.

Leaving on a jet plane

Come away with me on a jet plane that somehow takes us to the middle of nowhere, where daisies grow in a field like the ocean, where the waves crash together. Hold me til the end, when the world collides like the stars that hang overhead. The glistening that surrounds us like the chandelier that hangs above the family dinner, where people laugh and turkey fills our stomachs. Like hummingbirds that fill my pathless affection that never stop as you continue to look at mine and tell me you love me. The everlasting love that tail-wagger's give you, the way the rain fills the sky, dark blue and grey that hangs low, like the old woman's breasts as she ages. The hand's that intertwine like string into cat's cradle, that feels just right, like lilacs that fill my nose, or the way you run your fingers through your hair as I tuck mine behind my ears. The way horses run through the meadow, you dash through my veins, lighting the fire as the s'mores stick to my tongue, the sweetness overload to my brain. Take me down to the coast where my feet are as free as a butterfly that floats around with the wind, gracefully stopping, drinking the beauty of each rainbow colored flower. Smooth as the cold arctic water that runs over my blood colored toes, making it look like a man's bald head, an ice skating rink as the sun shines down on it creating a slippery slope. As far as I am concerned you are the one for me, the way magnetic letters cling to the fridge, the way a person plays the piano, the black and white keys creating a melody that creates goosebumps that heighten as the climax comes and goes. Just like they come, they depart as the wind takes the fall leaves, the pine needles from the christmas tree that cascade onto the wooden floor, and the way a child says I love you that carries your breath away. Leaving on a big jet plane heading for destiny, come with me and capture existence.

Dear Future One and Only,

Dear Future One and Only,

As you may find out very early, patience is not one of my best qualities. Though I try, and fail more then once, you're the one thing that I believe and know that patience will be worth it. So many times I wrote in my diary about the "one." Though it was never you I was writing about in the pages of tears and butterflies, I found traits and quirks that have helped me realize that I am going to be totally in love with a person like you.

My mother said that I would have to go through a lot of heartbreaks to get to my prince, and boy was she right. There was a time period where Switchfoot was on repeat for weeks, and Taylor Swift knew exactly what I was going through. I look forward to where all the songs that songs of love and romance will be exactly where I am at, with you by my side. Driving in the car belting out the lyrics of having my heart on fire, and having a joy in my gut all the time because you make me feel like Christmas morning everyday.

I look forward to days laying on the couch with the fire roaring, dogs nestled up on either side and Nat King Cole in the background as we chat about future dreams and places we want to go. I am excited to have your toothbrush next to mine, your shampoo bottle in the shower, and your shirt on the bed that still smells like you. Grocery trips, date nights, and all the in-betweens. I am anxiously ready for you to know what my fears are before I even say anything, yet you continuously challenging me to face them and to jump just a bit higher for my dreams. I want to do the same for you, like a working team, pushing each other to be what they pictured themselves as a little child... a superstar.

As I go through life, waiting for you to come, I am searching for you, weeding through the men, hoping you will stick onto me somehow like honey or dog hair. Its hard to sit and just be content where I am right now. Everyone around me is finding their "one" and as I noted above, I can get impatient. But I won't settle. I won't, especially since you are out there. I will keep dancing on that dance floor, not sitting on the sidelines waiting, because I love to discover all the wonderful things of life, and I like to take everything to the limit. God told me as a little girl that I can dance with him as long as I want, and when a man comes along that loves God more then he loves me, and has to seek him before he seeks me, that God will be okay with letting his princess dance with a man that will have my heart's best interest. My heart is fragile, passionate, and changes' lives, and knowing that you will carry it close to yours makes me feel assured that forever is going to be heaven.

So until you come and sweep me off my feet, I will remember that you are out there, waiting for me as I am waiting for you, and though my patience will wavier at times, knowing that you are not giving up or settling, I can go dance for a few more songs until you cut in.

Love,
your future one and only.

Please Turn Red

Please turn red, another light means another minute, another kiss that I thought I'd miss -Andy Davis

Sitting in the white chevy truck, 16 year old girl, blonde hair blowing, windows down, music loud, with the most handsome boy next to me. His guitar picks on the dash, worn converse on the floor and amp in the bed, paradise was where I was. Our hands met in the middle as you stroked the top of my hand. You kept glancing my way, smiling as the sun hit your curls, floating as we flew down the road, making my heart do the same. Your lips mouthed "your so beautiful" and each time felt like the first time you spoke those three words... butterfly inducing.

We near a light, as I pray it turns red so I can keep this feeling lingering just a bit longer. The sun soaks on my tan skin yet creating goosebumps as you lean over and kiss me. Stomach feels like the 1st drop on a roller-coaster, the happiness of school letting out for the summer, the perfect combination of hot concrete and rain. Time flies as I am surrounded by your Irish Spring scent lingering on your arm as your hand cups my face. Your eyes opening, giving me one last kiss as you grab hold of the steering wheel as the light turns green. Where we are going, it doesn't matter. As long as I had you and red lights, I was in heaven.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

I have compiled a brief list of things I have been thinking I need going into the year 2012. I probably should have started by saying hello... sorry... hello Santa, I hope you and Rudolph are doing well. I have been very pleasant if you knock off the times I curse in traffic, called my brother a douche or acted like the princess and the pea. All other times, well, the one hour of the day while I am not cursing, is when I am sleeping,  and I have been an angel. I have been trying to improve which should be the main point. I use my turn signal 70% of the time and only Facebook stalk my exes 15 times a day. I even started eating spinach instead of a 1/2 bag of chips. See? My excellence is shining through.

For Christmas I would like:

1) My inner thighs to shrink and for the fat to go to my boobs. Some elf invented the Shake Weight and the Thigh Burner of Hell, so I am sure you could whip something up.

2) A phone that doesn't "miraculously" malfunction and shut down after 2 days of use. The Verizon sign as it waves while jumping off a cliff doesn't make my day, especially when I'm lost and need my GPS.

3) Those really pretty heels, or that Marc Jacobs purse? You could make that sale sign say 50% off, right?

4) A robot, like in the tv show the Jetsons, that cleans my room, dishes and probably if I asked it to my butt, yet I'd rather that function not be available. I can't tell you how nice it would be to stay in my warm bed while it walked my dogs in 32 degree weather.

5) Finally I would enjoy if Christmas lasted longer then a month. Granted people are starting before Halloween, but my roommate won't let me listen to Music until after Thanksgiving. I need more then a month of Nat King Cole.

I know your a busy man, but I learned early that a way to a man's heart is food, so I will leave on my kitchen table a plate of double chocolate fudge with recece's pieces cookies with chocolate frosting and sprinkles and a glass of 1% milk since I know you may be watching your intake of calories on Christmas Eve. I hope your reindeer like green beans and carrot medley in a butter sauce. Just toss it in the microwave for a minute and your good to go, they will never go back to hay.

If your feeling especially generous you can have Gerard Butler or Channing Tatum next to me in bed when I wake up. Both would be awesome but I surely will settle for just one.

Yours truly, and anxiously waiting in apartment 517 in Austin Texas,

Natalie

Starving to be Skinny

(I debated on posting this due to the severity, but this is a blog and after the conversation I had today I decided to post it. I hope somehow I can touch someone, anyone even if in a small manner)

I couldn't sleep yesterday, odd? No. Anywho I decided to look at pictures. I am not sure if that was the best idea. As I look back I notice the first thing, my weight. Freshman year of college, I was stick thin, and gradually my weight went higher as the years went on. Three months ago I was at my heaviest and you could tell in my face. Ms. Chubsters! I am not sure what had changed but I drastically cut my calories to 900 a day, which was told is a starvation diet. I began to run as well, and I lost 33 pounds in 2.5 months.

Running, "starving" myself was a drug. It was one of the first times since high school my dad complimented me. When you lose weight your supposed to feel good right? Motivation to continue? The pants sizes lowering and the boys calling gaining? Blame it on my self esteem but I felt if I didn't keep losing or at least staying the same, I was putting people down. I was beautiful when I was 33 pounds heavier yet I never received that "attention" and "wow-factor."

I honestly don't know what weight I should be. In high school I was depressed and had a glass of OJ for breakfast and a brownie for lunch. I would then swim on the HS team for 2 hard hours and pick around at my food for dinner. My sadness filled my stomach so I never yearned for food. In college I was about the same weight I was now. I had leveled out, enjoyed eating with the girls and let myself enjoy pizza and cheetos. But my boyfriend at the time said "your getting fat." Even though a total douche, on the outside I didn't let it get to me, but a girl that has been struggling with a family that jokes and calls me "the whale" or as my dad said, "You will feel better if you lost some weight," or the best friend who is 20 pounds lighter saying she's fat, it all got to me in the inside.

Some where I said "fuck it" and I let all my sadness of never being enough roll off and I let myself go. I ate and ate. But I realized being super heavy wasn't making me happier either. So the honest truth? For the girls that may not want to come out, I'll do it for you. The beginning of losing weight I started intentionally puking. For the record I hated it, but thought it would be a quick fix. But I had "let go" and ate almost a whole pizza and didn't want it to stay on me. Instead of seeing a girl that ate as an occasional indulgence I pictured my father, my mother who said "good for you" at my "starvation" diet, and my roommate to ate like a twig. I see them, I see boys wanting a skinny girl, and I see myself with her head held low.

So I stopped. Not for me though, but for the kids I work with who have been abused/neglected. Thats not who I should be, and not what I want to be. I work with kids who may resort to that one day because they were never loved or told how special they are just the way they are. I had to find just one reason to stop. Granted no one is the perfect mold, but I wanted to be the person that followed what I preached to the kids. I tell my kids how proud I am of them and that they are rockstars. I want to plant one seed in them somewhere in their life, so that they have a shot, and they know whether they were abused, neglected, short, tall, 200 pounds, or 100 that they are so special and have amazing gifts to share. Even if I never felt enough, I am going to give that to anyone I meet so they don't have to try and fit a mold to satisfy others. YOU ARE ENOUGH. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. YOU ARE WONDERFUL. JUST THE WAY YOU ARE RIGHT NOW.

Today I am Happy

"Today I am happy because I don't have any reason not to be"

So many times I find myself finding a reason not to be happy. Something could always be better. Which is true. I would love to have an extra day off, to not be over 120 pounds and having a ton of bills to pay. When I stop though and look around me, I have so many things that so many others don't.

I have two dogs that worship the ground I walk on.
I have a roof over my head and a christmas tree in it that sparkles when the cool breeze blows in.
I have an amazing mother that listens to me rant and vent about everything under the sun.
I have a dad that realizes that I enjoy being pampered and supports me even when I should do it myself.
I have an amazing job that pushes me to be a better person every day and gives me daily challenges.
I have a car that works and gets me to point a to b.
I have an amazing heart that will get me a wonderful man eventually, take me great places, and give me wonderful opportunities.
I know what I want and wont settle and that makes me pretty darn special.

If that's not enough and I still find things to complain about, I really need to stop, take a breath, and be happy that I am living and still able to hold my head high. I am going to go far and today I don't need a reason to be nothing but happy.

Sunday Morning

Sunday morning rain is falling

Steal some covers share some skin

Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable

You twist to fit the mold that I am in

But things just get so crazy living life gets hard to do

And I would gladly hit the road get up and go if I knew

That someday it would bring me back to you

That someday it would bring me back to you


-Maroon Five

My dog is a Racist.

My dog is a racist.

the "cuteness" who wears a devilish grin :)

And I am saying this as nicely as possible.

I take my dogs on walks everyday on trails behind our apartment complexes. Normal people walk their normal selves and their dogs and usually mind their own business besides the occasional butt sniffing (dogs only, mind you). Lilly takes it to the extreme.

Just on our walk today she ran after a black guy that was minding his own business. I have nothing against other races but apparently Lilly does. Full on ran after him barking and pretending she was a 100 pound dog on a mission. He saw right past her. She has barked at a girl that told me she was afraid of dogs, though I think Lilly smelled her fear off the bat. She wouldn't let a nerdy white guy through a gate or let a little old lady go to her door in peace.

She also hates this basset hounds. There are two that we occasionally see on our walks and she tries to jump on their backs. Poor things are so long and just awkward that they have an extreme disadvantage. I really think she is jealous of their gigantic ears. Her bat ears are not enough compared to their cape-like ears that drag on the ground.

She also takes a "calling" to people at the worst times. I haven't slept for 26 hours, need a shower desperately, and have bags and leftover makeup on my face that is starting to look like Picasso. Lilly just had to trot next to a GORGEOUS guy and make friends and not leave his side on this particular afternoon. I would't mind if I wasn't sweaty and panting for breath. Not a good first impression.

So what do I do? Pretending she's not my dog doesn't work, because after every incident she runs up to me yearning for the praise she feels she deserves. Pretending she is just a little chihuahua pretending to be a big dog has gotten old when it happens every time, so I have decided that karma will hit her when a dog decides her ears are too big and she looks like a rat and decides to jump on her.

you are my coffee

"To some people coffee gives them energy.
Coffee gives them the fight to stay up for just a minute longer.
Coffee gets them through the hardest day.
Coffee puts a smile on their face with just the smell.
Coffee comforts them when nothing else can.
Coffee is what they look for when they wake up.
Coffee is the only way to start their day and without it nothing goes right.
Coffee to some people is not in the drink itself but a person, Natalie you are my coffee :)"  


- I never look at coffee the same xo

Lotion covered Memories.

Do you ever "run" into something that when you are around it brings back a memory? A Backstreet Boy song reminds you of your first crush, rubber jelly shoes of a hot summer day spitting watermelon seeds on the trampoline, or the way cedar balls remind you of your grandmother's old dolls? I love "running" into smells and/or objects that bring a past moment that collides into your present.

There is a hand lotion at work that every time I use it, takes me back to "wilderness" days. I had been sent away for being a rebellious teenager at the age of 15. The first few days of being sent to a dessert, society still hung on. I could smell my flowery shampoo lingering on my hair, my red nail polish still bright and red, and my shaven legs still smooth. But it went away while hiking miles in the desert and cooking by a fire. My underarms began to smell like a man's, as my legs began to look like a caveman getting darker with dirt and hair, the nail polish fading quickly from my nails.

You know how some desert animals roll in dirt to keep them cool? I felt like I rolled in dirt to cover up the smell. Everything I used to be back on "Earth" was no more, and the girl that showered daily took a water bottle sized amount to clean once every week, if lucky.

But sometimes, if we had extra water before going to the next spot, this girl out of the group would wash our hair. She would take camp soap and "clean" the dirt out. We would wash our entire body as well to feel totally clean and lather lotion to make our desert skin moist. As soon as we were clean, the barren land covered us up again. And by the time we put lotion on, dirt was already on our skin and would leave lotion dirt streaks. There was nothing though like being in the middle of nowhere and feeling the air cool your naked body and feeling clean if only for ten minutes.

So every time I used this lotion I picture the days where dirt in your teeth was a daily occurrence, but when the lotion was on your skin your felt almost princess like in a world covered in dirt.

10 things that boys do that are ANNOYING

1) Just because you have a six pack, almost an 8, doesn't mean it needs to be your default picture

2) "What are you up to" does not mean I can't read right through it. You really are saying your wanting me to help your "horny-toad" self out. Not happening.

3) Do not slap each other's butts. Gross. I know if girls slapped each other's butts it would turn you on, but it doesn't do the same for us. That is unless its Channing Tatum and Taylor Lautner, then go right ahead.

4) If your going to shave your chest, continue doing so, I personally don't enjoy snuggling next to a prickly pear.

5) Don't ask me what I am doing every 3 minutes. I. Haven't. Moved. My. Lazy. Ass. ANYWHERE.

6) Stop breast feeding from your mother's tits. Do your own laundry and bills.

7) Stop dancing like you are on dancing with the stars, a stripper, or Usher. You are none of the above. Let the girl handle the dance moves on the floor.

8) Text a girl back with more then "ok". I understand you don't want to step in "hot water" but its more annoying then a wedgie in a go-go dancer's butt when you say that one word or change the subject completely.

9) Arguing to prove your point, especially with another male, does not make you hotter. A one upper does not give you any brownie points.

10) Call a girl 'babe', 'beautiful', and compliment her here and there, even if we are a bitch on a rampage. You'll go far :)

The End.

Under the African Sky...

I have never seen the stars shine so bright and never imagined viewing the sky so clean and dark. It looked as if it was a dark sea, with no fog that so many times is lit from the city. Seeing the dark with the stars so contrast and glimmering, I never wanted to leave Africa. I could sit amongst the stars at night for the rest of my life and be content. Africa had many things that would persuade someone not to enjoy the scence, as the slums that carried a horrible smell, when people slept under moldy sheets and a house made of cardboard. You would see most of them outside rather then inside, and only until night came, did I realize why they did so.

I am trying to find the words that could capture how magnificent the sky way. The stars reminded me of the HED lights that are so popular among stores now. The purest white. They glittered as if water had been dropped on each one and white light shown through. It was like snow that shines when the sun dances upon it in the morning, as if diamonds moved like the ocean, the waves tumbling onto the sand. It made you feel as little as an ant but big enough to want to reach the stars to touch one. It was truly one of the most humbling experiences. Knowing that there was so much vastness to it that I would never be able to comprehend its greatness, yet lucky enough to be still and enjoy the beauty.

I only speak English... Gracias!!

I live in America. I speak English, for the most part, or as some want to call it, "Natalish." Either way I speak the native tongue. I don't speak Spanish, or French but do speak sarcasm fluently. If I got to a different country, like Mexico, I don't waltz into a store and assume that they are going to speak English. Touring around Mexico I did learn that a lot of the natives knew a couple English phrases and used the very often, "Come look", "Cheap prices", "will negotiate". The last phrase sounded like net-go-ihate but I am not going to grade them when I can barley speak it myself. I learned a few phrases myself going to tour. "No gracias", "Donde es el bano", and "No comprende". I probably didn't even say the phrases right, but I tried, which the effort should account for.

I am going to try not to be rude under all means, but I apologize in advance for any feelings hurt. I was on the computer looking for jobs, because I know when I get booted from my parents nest, I won't be able to afford all of my bills. I live very comfortably and like to keep that cushion plump. So looking on Craigslist for jobs more then HALF, and I am not exaggerating said I needed to be bilingual. Seriously?! I am sure that if teacher and/or my parents knew that I would have to speak two languages that I would have learners this from birth and instead of classical music being played at bedtime, the salsa dancing and spanish music would have been played. I took 5 years of Spanish and spent more time in "jail" for not understanding and speaking English in an only Spanish speaking class. I sucked and basically failed.


I get frustrated when I walk around and everyone is speaking Spanish. I don't understand a thing they are saying and feel that they are laughing at me because my zipper is undone. I constantly check myself when they start laughing and talking at 100 mph. I walk through stores and I hear them talking half English have Spanish. Yes, I am jealous but I already get confused enough, dang. I get on customer service to try and get my phone fixed and I can't understand anything they say. I politely asked 3 times to get someone different because I couldn't understand what they were saying and vice a versa. 3 different people, all with an accent I can't understand. I no flat out say, "Manager please" and pray I get someone I can understand.


I have plenty of friends that can speak fluently... curse them... and am trying to have them teach me. Seriously though, if you come to America, please speak English. I could have more opportunities to get a job and would not curse as much over customer service. If I come to Mexico, France or China I wouldn't ask you to adhere to me and my language, so please, please learn English. Gracias.

Fairy tale

Once in awhile, 
Right in the middle of an ordinary life, Love gives us a fairy tale.

~ Anonymous ~

my friday...

Bubble Bath

John Mayer

Glass of Beer

Michael Buble

2 dogs who love to snuggle

Norah Jones

Cosmo Magazine

=

an amazing Friday night

Crush Whore...

I had a journal growing up starting in middle school. It was lime green and had a cartoon girl on the front with probably saying "KEEP OUT." I used this a bit through high-school as well, but the only documentation in the journal was one of three things, if:

1) I liked a boy
2) I hated a girl
3) or hated my parents

When I looked back it seemed that I was always skipping between boys. I even remember an entry saying I couldn't decide which boy I wanted to like. Reading it, I remember being disgusted thinking what a "crush whore." I could go back and recall every moment I wrote about, and at the time I felt I was just being normal ol me and that every crush made sense. But having the only entries I wrote about being about boys was hard to see the in-between moments and the boy "hardships."

I sometimes read through my blog entries these days looking for inspiration or out of pure boredom. I keep reading entries of how a boy (though I never mention names) makes my heart skip and blah blah. As he quickly come in, he just as quick takes off into the distance, as another one knocks at my door. Reading these entries I got the same feeling as I did while reading a journal entry as a naive girl. CRUSH WHORE. I feel somewhere between 10 and 24 I would have noticed my trend or have learned about the men I gravitate towards. Yet I still write about the different boys whom I could "see a future" with.

And this evening another boy will come, whether or not he graces the rest of my blog entries or just a few who knows. The in-betweens aren't long, should be longer possibly. But like my mom says, "You have to kiss a few (in my case a lot) of toads to find a prince." And one day I will find the lucky guy that will take away the in-betweens, and make my "crush" turn into the Forever every girl dreams about.

Cotton Candy Clouds.

How many time I whisper your name. Its less then the times I think of you. I wonder where you are. I picture it in my head over and over. Are there fluffy clouds of cotton? Do you lie in them like there cotton candy, picking a piece and savoring the sweetness? Do you wear white robes? The robes soft and warm that feel like they have just come of the dryer. The faint smell of bleach and softness as you rub it against your cheek. Do you get to see us? As we busy ourselves in the world, cursing in traffic, always rushing to beat the clock. I wonder if you shake your head wishing we took a step back and enjoyed ourselves. I wonder if thats why you come in a soft wind, a butterfly that floats by, and leaves that change colors.

They are subtle yet hit us enough to be thankful for where we are. Instead of downing the coffee to keep us up we sit on the step, sipping it slowly, letting the warmth hit our insides as the fall wind covers the hills like a blanket. I wonder if you left to show us just how much we should take time to love the people that mean the world to us. How often we tuck ourselves in at night without letting our loved ones know just how special they are. I wonder if you left to show us what compassion truly is. When a frown on someone's face guides us to ask just one more time if there are okay. Pushing once more so the tears they need to cry pour out like a hard summer rain.

Maybe you left to show us nothing lasts forever but what you do to others, does live on. I love harder, fall faster, trip more then once, and dream bigger now. I take time to enjoy the little things. A shooting star dances across the sky, a Michael Buble song as my Christmas lights glisten, a dog kiss and family dinners. Its nice to know that even though your not here physically, that you still are here... everywhere.


I miss you derek. xo

Things I love... continued

Flowers

Michael Buble, Nat King Cole, Norah Jones

Fresh Strawberries

Hot shower that make your toes tingle because you were so cold

Aviators

Smell of Rain hitting hot concrete

Temperature of your bed right before its time to get up

Filling your gas tank

A song that you haven't heard in a long time

love

clean body + clean sheets

Iced coffee with 2 pumps of vanilla

paychecks

The sky before it rains

you.

Life is too short

"LIfe is too short to dance with ugly men"

I have this sign up in my room and I really haven't let it be a metaphor until now. I have never intentionally danced with ugly men, yet I have been bumped and grinded with men that fit that category, letting them know that "I have a boyfriend." But this past week, I have realized that ugly men come in more shapes, and more importantly forms, those not including looks.

I am not saying that this person was "ugly" but the way I was treated was pretty low. I am not asking for you to be at my fingertips for the entire visit, but if you barley spend any with me, are texting your ex, and not talking at all after I leave, call Natalie a bitch, but this is total douche-bag material.

Yes I am venting on a blog, but come on. My feelings are hurt. If I wasn't the only girl in the picture, and wasn't led to believe that you wanted more, I wouldn't have driven 6 hours just to find out. So ladies I suggest before driving and putting yourself on the line, make sure that you find out if he is a "handsome" on the inside as well. If he is not what you want or what you intended, tell him "Its okay," and go dance with someone else, because life is truly to short to dance with ugly men.

Doritos.

"There is a dog driving the car" --What her butt says

I am eating Doritos at 3:18 in the morning. Justifying myself that I am working overnight so it’s technically my day but still, chips nonetheless. Will I regret this in the morning, or night in the overnight lingo? Very much so, but an apple or something healthy just doesn’t sound as good. Eating the chips covered in nacho cheese heaven, I think about where these chips are going to go. I have always wanted the fat to be absorbed into my boobs, and if it did I would be bigger then Pamela, but somehow it settles in my inner thighs and stomach. These places hates exercise or anything of the sort, and wont go away no matter how many pushups or sit-ups I do.

Then I started thinking of working out. You know what I absolutely hate? The boys who do nothing and lose weight, and yes I am calling them boys because it infuriates me and I just want to diminish their feelings because of my own jealousy inside. Boys go to the gym to get big. If they don’t go to the gym they lose weight. Uh hello? Where the hell did this gene only get stuck with guys? I work out my butt off, look like a freaking pig sweating bullets, and the only thing I happen to lose is the one thing I want the most, my boobs. I work out and still have huge thighs, a doughnut around my middle, and size A cups that were once B are the only results I get. I already get made fun of my “ant hills” and now they are just going to be mosquito bites. Hmph.

I am not sure what this is supposed to teach me, but it just doesn’t help when a boy can eat whatever he wants, sit on the couch and LOSE weight. I am on the treadmill like a slave and the guy is asking his guys if he wants a beer. Yes I would like a beer or 2, or hell even 3 thank you, but can’t afford to lose the one thing that defines me as a woman. So what’s the solution? I am either going to find someone that loves all my lady lumps, or I am going to go find that gene that allows me to not feel guilty eating Doritos at 3 in the morning because I know I am losing weight. 

Peanut Butter

Peanut Butter. Before wilderness it was just something I ate with jelly. During wilderness it was considered gold and was something all of us girls looked forward to getting for the weeks rations.

Wilderness was where I was sent to because a normal 16 year old girls doesn’t have sex with a 2 year long boyfriend. I was picked up in the middle of the night, dragged to wilderness, stripped searched and given a tarp, which carried everything I would need to survive. Of the things included: powdered food (cheese, milk, butter), dried beans, 2 pieces of fruit, flour, brown sugar, raisins, granola and rice, and the glorious peanut butter which would be replenished weekly. I was quite disgusted and really didn’t think I would use an entire jar of that stuff in a week, or any of the others. I had only planned to stay the minimum of three weeks, not the 9 weeks I had no idea I was going to reside.

Three days into the journey of hell, I realized this shit was really the shit. It was a staple of existence. We rationed it carefully knowing it had to last a week. We sat like cave men watching the other girls, hyenas ready to attack if they came near. We licked every inch of the jar we could savoring every last bit. No one would trade anything for peanut butter, not even granola that was almost to the top of the favorite list. Every week they would hand out bags of food and every one of us would take the peanut butter out first and sit back and take pleasure in the first bite of the new jar.

Now years and years later, when I eat peanut butter it reminds me of how valuable it used to be to me. Usually when I eat, I do just that and move on, but when I eat peanut butter I appreciate it, letting it take me back to the wilderness days, where heaven came in a jar to the desert of hell. 

3 days

3 more days. Preparing to see someone I only dreamed of. It had ended so soon, the only man to never say he loved me. Which is the best thing that someone has never said. I think it made me see that if he really did, it would be real and not just something that rolls off the tongue. Dave Matthews, Matt Nathanson, something that drifted in the background. I remember Christmas lights danced around my room, cold air coming through the window. Driving with the windows down as music was sung, eating at a hole in the wall Mexican restaurant.

So here I am, anxious with butterflies spinning in my stomach. Painting my nails because he told me one time he liked that, finding the cutest outfits I have in my closet, daydreaming of all the right things. So three days I’m going to go and get my heart that he’s had for awhile. 

Glitter

I enjoy glitter. Not too excessive, where you look like a disco ball, but sophisticated glitter that catches the light in all the right places. I tend to wear glitter on my eyes, sometimes on my arms, and more so on my nails. It makes me feel like I truly glitter, which then instills in my insides that I am supposed to shine. So then I end up sprinkling it everywhere I go. Lights on my tree, picture frame and even a fancy ring. Its true that some girls were born with glitter in their veins

Fast Car

You've got a fast car

I wanna a ticket to anywhere

Maybe we can make a deal

Maybe together we can get somewhere

Any place is better

Starting from zero, got nothing to lose

Maybe we'll make something

Me, myself, I've got nothing to prove
-Tracy Chapman

Cat is an Annoying Child

My cat is like an annoying child. Let me state the reasons:

He may look innocent but this cat is showing the cute face

1) I was almost about to pass out in dream land when he jumps, ON MY FACE.
2) He has discovered that "crying" and running into the door (yes you hear the thud) may get me to open it
3) Lilly, my little dog enjoys sitting on my lap, or just touching me, but when the cat is in the room the dog, like a disorder,  Lilly jumps off the bed and attacks cookie, and then returns to sit on my lap. This process goes on until I have to kick the cat out.
4) Knocks over glasses with any liquid in it
5) Eats flowers that I receive (I believe its jealousy)
6) The cat started to recognize that he can knock over the water dispenser dish for the dogs. After coming home time after time with puddles I bought a plastic bowl. Well he has now discovered that when he is done drinking out of the DOGS bowl (the cat has his own water dish, but prefers the one with dog drool in it) he attempts to bury the bowl by pawing at it. He somehow manages to get the mat underneath it soaking every time I come home.
7) He is at the door right now, meowing, shaking the door handle. Thank goodness he doesn't know how to open it or I would have more problems.

Hell on Heels

I love the way high heels look. I like the way they make my legs look. I don't like the way they make me look like a penguin as I walk, or the way they make me look 3 times more drunk while spending the night on the town. I also envy the way models walk down the runways in high heels and don't fall or give the ridiculous face that I give (prime example of knoxville)

Though I have yet to fall I have come quite close numerous times. Downtown Austin is NOT made for high-heels and especially girls that 1) can't walk normally in general 2) or walk while drunk. I trip over crap daily without the help of killer footwear putting me on tiny stilts 4 inches in the air. So while wearing heels I usually do one of the two: drink more until I just can't feel my feet, or take them off and get feet that look like this by the end of the night:

Either way it isn't pretty. Yet every time I go into a store or getting ready to go downtown, I put on those dang heels of hell. One day I will fall flat on my face, humiliate myself and hopefully learn my lesson. I am not going to be lady gaga and certainly won't dress like her especially when it comes to her sense of "style" but I will still wear shoes because somewhere I have to live up to the famous words "fashion is pain". I don't do it well, trust me, but dang it is nice to have some sexy legs that go on forever, and calves that look toned.

So bring it on Darwin. Natural selection has yet to hit me. 

Butterflies.

You give me the butterflies. The kind that doesn’t just fly, the ones that swirl and do jumps and twirl about. The new red bicycle that you got when you were 4, so shiny with the big red bow. The feeling when you see puppies in the window or as you walk on the sidewalk, skipping. The feeling of a summer day, melting ice cream down your chin, cool lake breeze and sun glasses.

I want to get tangled in hotel sheets, while the window is open letting the cold air come through. Feet intertwined, sticking out at the end so they are cold, yet warm, as they get lost as one. Entranced in thoughts as the music surrounds us. Rain pouring on the roof, falling on the concrete, pitter-patter. The smell extending and merging with the fragrance of fresh shaven whiskers and cozy vanilla candles that light the room with intense passion. Eyes that give the need and desire to be alive soften, as the whispers in the ear get louder. Then all is still except, the rain, quick breathing, cool breeze, and the butterflies.

These butterflies wont stop flying. 

Changing Shoes...

Change is like wearing new shoes. It’s uncomfortable, stiff, and difficult. How many times we long to just wear the shoes that know every arch, bump, and recognize and understand how we walk, run and skip. This new shoe has no idea. Yet we don’t take time to realize that the old shoe that knows us so well was once new too, and that it took time. It had to be acquainted to who you were. You adjusted though, and just like change, future, and the rough times ahead, you will settle in and find your feet again

MmMm

Can you and I drink coffee, that steams as we sit on the porch, watching the leaves fall and the only sound that we hear is the rustling of leaves as the red robin rejoices for fall? 

Cottage Cheese...

I love cottage cheese. Not the kind that is in my butt, thighs or stomach, the kind that comes in the plastic container with the cow on the front. Low calories, pretty white color, and you can even add fruit in it. What could be better? I sat down with the entire container, my dogs drooling waiting for a bite, and I open it. Its very similar to cream cheese where when you open it, it sometimes has the liquid on the top. The yellow-ish color that you have to mix back in before spreading it on your bagel. That is what greeted me as I opened the fresh new container. Gross. It is like the guy that sneezes in his hand before shaking yours. Not the kind of first meet and greet I wanted. I let it slide and stirred it up.

I took the first bite of cottage cheese. I totally understand where they get the metaphor of cottage cheese in your butt and thighs. It made me think of all the magazines where you had to guess which celebrity had the worst cellulite of July. I should make a column “eat cottage cheese to get rid of yours”. Health Magazine, I can see you already. Anyway, I am eating this white deliciousness and start reading the container. As stated in a previous blog, while eating I can stare and read whatever is in front of me until I finish eating. It’s a habit but I started reading the ingredients in it. Basically it’s curdled milk with a better name.

I had the honor of staying at my parent’s house while they were on vacation. It had been a good three weeks since they were there. My mom who had left earlier before my dad, will throw out anything that will get stale or go bad and makes sure everything is clean for when she comes back. My dad on the other hand gets the important things done, hot water turned off, air conditioner off; cleaning out the fridge is not one of them. I decided being the golden child, to maybe clean things up a bit for when they return. I opened the fridge to find milk that should have been used weeks ago. I go to the sink and start dumping it out. Besides the clumps of white and yellow stuff, the smell was vomiting inducing. Sadly I decided that my dad would have to deal with the natural consequence and put the curdled milk back in the fridge. I can be a golden child a different time.

So here I was thinking of this incident, still taking bites. I couldn’t do it anymore. Besides the fact of thinking of the cottage cheese that was on my butt AND gross milk being poured down the drain, I couldn’t see myself putting this into my body. I now love cottage cheese on my butt, even on my thighs, but not so much anymore in the milk form.

24... almost

Dear almost 24 year old-

 Hello. How the years have gone by.

I totally remember when you were 11, having that swim party, swimming all afternoon and had a princess birthday cake. The party included girls and one boy, whom you had a crush on.

Remember Sweet 16? Your parents flew you back to Michigan. Your grandma took you and 5 girls to a resort and you swam and had a wonderful dinner? Oh yeah there was one boy there too, who had a crush on you.

I know there were some not so good birthdays too. Remember the time where you skinned your knee at you 8^th birthday? There was no boy there this time, but 2.

And what about your 18^th? You sat on your bed wanting to commit suicide and parents didn’t even see you. You weren’t allowed to see your boyfriend.

But what about this birthday? Is it a good one? Will it be one for the books? Can I guess what it will be for you?

I believe it will be just a birthday. It will be a fresh start. A birthday that doesn’t need to have a boy at the end of it. It will be a year that you will realize that happiness doesn’t come in the form of a boy; it will come in the form of YOU. I believe that smile that has been dim for a while will be bright again. I know you will still change lives and your going to find something you love to do and enjoy going to. I see that there will still be rough days, and maybe the occasional let downs, but you may find that those heartbreaks may include a happy ending. You never know. I think you should stop getting yourself down and see all the good and kind things you do for others. You have a family that loves you, 3 animals that adore you and friends that will always be there. You have a lot going for you kiddo, and I am proud of you.

And even if that may be “just a birthday” I think maybe if you make it, it could be one of the best and definitely one to put in the books.

Love –

Your birthday.

Sparkling Snow.

Nose is numb, fingertips icy.
You can see your breath every time you exhale.
Scarf wrapped up all the way over your mouth, boots keeping your feet warm.
Lights everywhere. Sparkling, as the snow that falls melts when it hits the light.
Crunching ice as you walk through the snow, holding hands with your sweetheart.
Christmas music playing in the distant, Nat King Cole serenading your ears.
Smell of apple spice, and carmel.
Restaurants dim with candle light, people inside laughing in warm navy blue sweaters eating pumpkin soup, glancing outside thankful to be indoors.
Everything glows, dim, warm, spirit filled. Something you can't grasp, yet it fills your entire body with delight.
Walking home, content, stomach filled with joy and love. Tis the season!!

I am a Mermaid

I wanted to be a lot of things growing up as a child. It all stemmed upon what I was doing at the time or what I was surrounded by. Doing dance classes made me want to become a dancer, watching ice-skating, a skater. My dad was an electric engineer and as a kid I thought that meant he drove fire trucks for a living, so I wanted to be an engineer too. A soccer player, vet, and some others were mixed in the bunch. Those were all realistic things that I could grow up to be, but one thing I wanted to be more then anything was a mermaid.

 I had been swimming since I didn’t know how to walk. Maybe that’s why I still trip upstairs but can swim like a fish. I can vividly remember the smell of chlorine and the lady who had swim classes in her back yard. She literally yelled and looked like an intimidating red piece of rawhide from always being under the Arizona sun. She always wore a cap and dark glasses and would yell, “BREATHE” and then stick your head under the water as she moved your hands in freestyle motion. I quickly learned that when she bellowed, you better breathe or you would almost die waiting for the next breath. If only I was a mermaid, I could breathe underwater and never need to come up to BREATHE.

So I knew I could swim, but I knew I would never have fins. Blame it on The Little Mermaid who became a human, I thought I could become a mermaid. I had Ariel everywhere, bed sheets, dolls, shoes, and even a backpack. If I wasn’t going to be her, at least I could sport her everywhere I went. I remember playing in the bathtub with the Ariel Barbie and just wishing more then anything I could swim and talk with Flounder and do amazing twirls out of the water.

I played in the water, doing what people may think is the worm (in my mind swimming like a mermaid), in a kiddy pool that had 6 inches of water. I would sing the famous song from the movie and try and move my hair like her. When we finally got a real pool it was as if I was really living under the sea. When I invited my friends over that’s what we played, Mermaids. We dove, sang and pretended to talk under water.

Soon though somewhere down the road we learned that there was no school, or degree achieved that you could become a certified mermaid. To this day, when I first dive into a pool, I pretend that I am, just what I wanted to be my entire life, a mermaid