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Bedroom Update!

Hey, everyone. Remember when my walls were this really cool purple color with black trim? Yeah...that's gone now.

I decided after I moved home from my uncle's place that I needed to revamp my bedroom somehow. The purple color had been hanging around for a long time and kind of reminded me of an era and version of myself I needed to move past, so naturally it was time for a new wall color. A week ago, I dug out a can of primer and set to covering up the purple. It was a tedious process and dark shades don't like to be covered easily.

My walls are now an antique white color. I know, I know...white? But! It's a neutral color scheme to work with now. I no longer feel confined to something that blends with purple. I can do anything I want with my bedroom's overall theme and style with white walls. Plus, all the more incentive to put up some cool wall decor!

I definitely have a few pieces I need to hang up yet and I will take more photos when that happens. I'm just …

When your father has defected....

Those of us without fathers on this Father's Day occasion are often forced to reflect on the whereabouts of our absent parental figure - usually because a typical individual will assume that everyone has a loving and doting dad to celebrate, often when that is furthest from the case.

I don't have a dad.

I suppose I did once, there was certainly a male that contributed to my creation those 27 years ago, but I don't have a dad now. I grew up in a single parent household and looking back, I'm not sure I would have wanted it any other way. It was hard for Mom to make ends meet majority of the time, but she did the best she could for us to make sure we never went hungry and always knew that we were loved.

If, for some highly improbable reason, our dad had stuck around we would have been subjected to a substantial amount of his drinking, drugs, and overall absenteeism. I have never heard even one good story about him, from anyone really, so I truly believe I am better off no…

According to the Code...

Walmart has changed its dress code quite a bit over the past few years, but one thing that I am glad about is the return of the vest. This allows you to wear a shirt or blouse of your own choosing and not a standard issue navy blue polo. I hate polo shirts with a passion...

You also have the option of black or tan pants/skirt (no jeans though) and as long as the shoes are closed-toe and not sandals anything really goes.

So after work today, I shucked my eyelet white blouse and tan linen pants for a quick trip to the thrift store. And here's how you add a bit of personal flair to an otherwise standard issue uniform:


Is it white (or navy blue?) Does it have sleeves and a collar? Good, it's Walmart approved! I wouldn't recommend swishy bell sleeves for stocking positions or working around food though...


I'm not going to wax poetic about the "urban" appeal of baggy khakis because a good pair of black slacks is obviously superior in a work setting. A…

Death By Capitalism

I start my new job tomorrow, a pitiful little stint in the Walmart bakery.

And I've been thinking about this for a while now and just sort of stewing in it because I don't quite know how to talk about it without sounding like a whiny bitch, so here it is:

I don't want to work.

I don't want to settle with some 8 hr job that pays minimum wage (or slightly above) for the rest of my life, dealing with people I don't like (and I hate most people...) and never having any free time or energy to enjoy myself.

I want to write. I want to wake up at any fucking hour I please, make a pot of coffee and sit in front on my Chromebook while clicking away at keys and adding pages upon pages to a new book or story. I don't want to talk to anyone, I don't want any interruptions, and I don't want to go outside. I literally want to hole up somewhere peaceful and do nothing by write.

Maybe when I get stuck, I'll venture out into the real world and observe people for a wh…

Short Story Time: Smoke

She trailed him out of the house and down the few steps to the back door of the garage. It was a bit chilly now that the sun had gone down and she pulled her hoodie a little tighter around her. Was this really a good idea? Maybe she should have simply insisted on waiting inside the house, where it was safe and warm, but he’d asked her to come with so nicely. And so she had followed him out to the garage and waited patiently while he prepared a smoking apparatus. Weed had always had a foul smell to her and while she didn’t mind people using it, she’d rather not be around when it happened.
And yet, here she was.
But he’d been understanding, in his own way, of her discomfort. He’d changed shirts just for smoking and slipped a jacket on, all things that would be removed again once he was finished. And he sat a fair distance away from her, on the stairs. She had crouched down on the concrete walkway, an attempt to keep warm. Even her hood had been pulled up, obscuring her face.
The radio wa…

The Charlie Charlie Challenge

If you spend any amount of time on the internet, you've probably heard of the "Charlie Charlie Challenge" - a Ouija board/spirit writing inspired game in which you supposedly summon a Mexican demon named Charlie (really, guys? Charlie?) whom you can ask yes or no questions and Charlie is supposed to move the pencil to the correct answer.

So what IS the origin of this newly popular phenomenon. Well, according to Spanish internet users, the modern take on this "game" actually merges two different activities - Juego de la Lapicera, which has always had a supernatural bent and is sometimes referred to as the poor man's ouija board; and Charlie Charlie, a creepy school yard game played with colored pencils. How the two merged into this one Tumblr-frenzied experience is hard to pin down, but speculation has it that this became popular after a news station in the Dominican Republic aired an alarming broadcast about this "Satanic" game being played in sc…

Chaos is the New Calm

*trigger warning*

I've been giving this some thought...

And I think I need to move home.

Like, back to my hometown, in with my mom and brother again.

And I really have been thinking about this. Living with my uncle has proven to be kind of toxic for me. But at the same time, I've figured out what my comfort levels are concerning a variety of aspects.

1. I cannot tolerate a smoking household. Just, no. It fucks with my respiratory system, it messes with my allergies, and I can't stand the smell. However, this IS my uncle's house and he's allowed to do what he wants in it. Just as I'm allowed to move out at my leisure.

2. I DO NOT like being pressured to do stuff I'm not comfortable with. Driving, for one. Being forced to make all these phone calls and talk to all these people with absolutely NO REGARD for my mental state at any given point - he KNOWS I have anxiety issues and just fucking blows them off all the time. That's not cool.

3. I literally just started this new job. $12 an hour at the rail yard in St. Pa…

A summer-styled update!

A few weeks ago, our inflatable hot tub arrived on the front step. A few days prior though, we declared a space on the deck for it and set to work laying down some outdoor carpeting and creating a pad to lay it on.

Within the Circuit of This Plodding Life ~ Henry David Thoreau

"I love you," he says one night while we're snuggled on up the couch. And I freeze. Are you sure? I ask him. Why do you think so? I ask...

I suppose the simple answer is that he simply does. That you can't always control how you feel about people and sometimes these things just happen. You wake up one morning and realize you love this person and you want to be with them for as long as you can, however you can. 

I don't quite know how HE came to his little realization, but I dived headfirst in blatant denial. How could I possibly love anyone right now? I'm still fractured and healing from past relationship hurts. I have all this personal mental health drama going on. Excuses, really. 

Because I do love him. How could I not? He's perfect for me and I've never, EVER, had anything so good before. I don't want to much that up.