October



I love fall.

I love October.

I love this quote.

I am borderline unhealthily obsessed with love Anne of Green Gables.

I'm especially glad for fall this year.

I didn't have the best summer.

You could say that 2013 hasn't exactly gone how I thought it was going to.

But you know what?  It's gone exactly like God knew it would.

I cried a lot this summer.

I was sad a lot this summer.

I'll just admit that.

I always struggle with where I'm supposed to be and what I'm supposed to be doing.  I especially did this summer.  But you know what?  When you're hurting, when you're struggling, when you feel like everything is falling apart....that's when you have to keep moving.  Put your head down and just keep going.  One foot in front of the other.  One minute, one hour, one day at a time.

Pretty soon you'll look up and realize that it's a new season.

And you made it.

You're ok.

You're more than ok.

You're stronger than you were before.

You learned a lesson; you fought a fight and you won.

Guilty Pleasures

 

 

I'm linking up again today with A Blonde Ambition Confessional Friday to talk about guilty pleasures.

 

Firstly, I'm going to need you to hold up your right hand and repeat after me.

"I insert name here do solemnly swear that I will not make fun of Whitney for what she is about to admit or may my vocal chords be ripped out by wolves."  (Bonus points if you get that reference!)

 

 

Alright, now that the legal bizz is out of the way, let's proceed.

 

1.  I love Clay Aiken.  Like love him.

 

2. I love me some Easy Cheese.  Not frequently, but every once in a while I feel the need to inhale a can with a box of Ritz crackers.  Throw in some Mike's Hard Lemonade and a Say Yes to the Dress marathon you've got a Friday night. 

 

3.  I dance naked in my house.  Because I live alone and I love to dance.  Amen.

 

4.  Sometimes when I'm cooking, I pretend I'm hosting a cooking show on the Food Network.  I don't actually talk out loud all the time, but I totally imagine it.  It makes me feel important.

 

5.  Candy Crush Saga.  Enough said.



Embarrassing (Link up with A Blonde Ambition)

 

 

I'm going to link up with A Blonde Ambition today for Confessional Friday, to talk about embarrassing moments. 

 

Because let's face it: my life is full of embarrassing moments.

 

I could tell you about the time I wiped out in front of an entire restaurant patio - like there was no way to miss me getting my shoe caught in the wood and taking an entire table down with me.

 

Or I could tell you about the time I started sobbing uncontrollably in my Public Speaking class in college because I was so moved by a classmate's "persuasive speech".

 

Or I could tell you about how I ripped the seam of the backside of my pants at work one day and wasn't aware of it for several hours.

 

But I will take it a little further back and tell you about the most embarrassing moment of my life.

 

And for that? my friends, we must go back and visit 12 year old Whitney.

 

Something you may or may not (most likely may not) know about me is that I took classical ballet for 11 years.

 

During one of those years I played a dual part in my dance academy's version of The Nutcracker.  I played an angel AND an Arabian.  That's called talent in case you were wondering.

 

Well, I had exactly 46 seconds for a costume change and - let me just tell you - going from an ethereal angel costume to a flashy Arabian dancer costume in 46 seconds is no small feat.

 

Well dress rehearsal and performances 1, 2, and 3 went off without a hitch.  But then came performance 4.  Oh, performance 4.

 

My dresser that was supposed to be helping me change was nowhere to be found and - being the on-my-feet thinker that I am - decided that I had to freak out instead of just start to change myself.  I probably spent 15 seconds of my precious 46 absolutely losing it.  Then I snapped into it and started changing, but the 15 second freak out sesh had cost me.  And I ended up performing an elaborate Arabian dance with no bloomers on under my very see-through pants.

 

Thankfully I also had tights on and I hit puberty very late in life, if you catch my drift, so nothing was exposed.  I was not the first 12 year old ballerina porn star.  But it will always and forevermore go down as the most embarrassing moment of my life.

 

And now it is on the Internet for everyone (or just my mom) to see!

Untitled Post

I used to wear my heart on my sleeve.  I was free with my emotions and nobody ever had to guess what I was thinking or feeling.

Now I keep my heart in a vault. 
In a secure facility surrounded by armed guards. 
With a moat. 
That is home to several hundred killer sharks. 

I took my heart out of this vault and I gave it to somebody.  My heart was locked up tight, but I respected him enough to not let my prior hurts and disappointments affect our relationship.  I gave it to him because I felt it was safe.  I felt that my heart would be protected by this person; that I was special enough to him that he would never let anything bad happen to it. 

That was so not the case.  He took my heart, held it in his hands, and then dropped it on the ground.  And it shattered into a million. tiny. pieces.  And while I was still working to pick those pieces up to put them back together, he stomped on them.

It's difficult because I gave this person everything I had to give.  Even though my head told me to protect my heart, I still gave.  I think it has to be one of the worst feelings to find out that you were never as important to someone as they were to you.  I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

I've struggled a lot recently with the direction my life is going.  A few short months ago, I thought I knew exactly where it was headed and now I have no idea. 

But I know something that's for sure: life isn't always pretty.  It's downright messy and ugly at times.  But I'm reminded that so are most amazing works of art.  During the creation process they can look like a hot mess of crap, but once they're done?  People can't take their eyes off of it.  Something else I know for sure: my life is a beautiful creation. I feel; I know I'm here for an amazing purpose.  I'm supposed to do great things. I don't know exactly what yet, but oh.....they're coming!

I've made a lot of mistakes in the last year.  I've been naïve, at times I've been downright dumb, and above all I've been extremely blinded.  However, I know - beyond a shadow of a doubt - that those mistakes were made so that I would learn a lesson.  I truly, truly believe that wherever you are is exactly where you're supposed to be.  Even if you're hurt, completely broken down, feeling like you've lost everything - you're exactly where you're supposed to be.

And the man I was referring to earlier?  I can't do anything but thank him.  Because shattering my heart into a million pieces and subsequently stomping on them showed me that I'm stronger than I thought.  I'm more resilient than I thought.  And my heart - because it's so precious - is supposed to be held by someone much more careful than him.

There's a roach in your laundry room.

This post is appropriately titled, because that is what I texted my mother Saturday morning.

Backstory: I'm staying at my parent's house until my new apartment is ready to be inhabited.  I got up Saturday morning to put some clothes in the dryer and get ready for work and was promptly greeted by a roach the size of a smart car.

Not really, but it was on the larger side of all the roaches I've ever seen in my life.  My mom was at my grandparent's house, so she wasn't there to save me.

The following is a text message conversation between my mother and I:

Some important things that were left out of this conversation:

For most of the time this transpired, I was standing in the kitchen screaming with a bowl in my hand.  I don't actually know what I was prepared to do with the bowl, but it was at the ready.

When my sister got the air freshener out, she insisted it was going to work to kill the thing, to which I replied "It can survive a nuclear war, I don't think it's going to mind getting lavender fresh!"  

There may or may not be a need to purchase more air freshener at my parent's house now.

My dad is a hero.  For the first part of this adventure, he was watching stuff on his iPad not to be bothered.  Then suddenly he appeared right as he was most needed and he smashed the thing AND picked it up with a paper towel.  That's what dads are for, right?

My sister is a hero, too.  I couldn't even get near it and she's assaulting it with Febreeze.  She's a rockstar.

Apparently, I feel the need to use the phrase "this is not a drill" quite frequently.  It's important to note we've never actually had a roach in the house drill before.

My heart rate is still coming down days later. 

An Open Letter to Anthropologie

(Click image to enlarge)


This is a wonky pot.  It sells for $380.

But for real, y'all.

I can just imagine the awkward scenes everywhere in which people are complimenting their friend's kids for making the new piece of "art" on the coffee table, and the kids get insulted because even a 6 year old wouldn't want to be associated with creating such an atrocity. 


Does anyone else want to call their mothers and ask if they can have back every gift we ever made for her?  Because if I could make $380 off the crap I made back in the day I will go all Indian-giver & take those presents back posthaste.

POSTHASTE.

(Sidebar: if anyone can give me an actual definition of a wonky pot, I'll make you one of your very own.)



Also, does anyone else feel like they could find this little gem at the local park?  Because I do.

PS: It sells for $880.  Don't crash the website all trying to purchase at once.

Relay for Life

Tonight is the Relay for Life event here in Memphis.
I'm walking for 12 hours beginning at 6pm.

Everyone has a story of how cancer has affected their lives.

UNFORTUNATELY, right?

It's not just a cancer sucks so I'm walking for twelve hours type situation.

  I'm walking in memory of a dear, sweet family friend who unfortunately didn't beat the disease.

Sadly, she was misdiagnosed.
And I can't help but think that had there been more research, she wouldn't have been misdiagnosed in the first place.

You know those people who, when you think about them, you just smile?

That was Suzan.

She was incredibly supportive of me and my family. 

She was an amazing wife and mother.

She fought.  She fought really hard.
She smiled the whole time.

I have never seen anyone be able to do that.
Lord knows I would be under a rock.

But not Suzan.  Heck. No.
She was brave, loved life, and continued to make everyone's day a little brighter.  

I still think of Suzan and smile.
And every step I take between 6pm tonight and 6am tomorrow will be in her memory.