Water Sports.

     My friend Taylar has a blog that often highlights the ins and outs of a single woman in a big city full of ass hats. It's hilarious. Read it here. She's probably the sweetest person on the planet and her cheeky descriptors often have me rolling. I always think "I should write something like that instead of my 'meaning of life' rambles I love so much." Then I stop that thought. Mainly because, I don't date. I haven't dated in so long I barely remember why I stopped. I've unintentionally become a hermit. This past weekend reminded me why. I'll try to summarize briefly, stay tuned to the end.

    

    While I was working at Buckle a guy came in, cue flirting...fast forward a couple weeks...and we are date city party of two. It went great. He wasn't my type in the least bit: military, clean cut, all around prep monster. Whatever, I'm not one to judge.
    Things progressed along a typical "dating" timeline. You know that super cheesy butterfly stage when you first like someone? Yeah, that. Which I hadn't had in forever so it made me want to spew my breakfast on a daily basis but I just let it happen. He had to leave to "play army" as I like to call it a few weeks later and while he was gone I received the i miss you, *insert number of days* to go!, can't wait to see you texts. Gosh how adorable.
    Now let's fast forward again to the day after he got back/two days before my birthday. Our plans of dinner turned into "meeting up" downtown. If any of you have been downtown Nashville you know it's impossible to make it to the second story of Honky Tonk Central without at least a slight buzz. Let alone meet up after a few bars. Lucky me though, while my friend and I were working our way to the aforementioned buzz..oh! There he is! Grinding on that nice young gal whispering in his ear on the dance floor. Oh, okay. Now I don't jump to conclusions. It's loud in here...maybe that's why she needed her tongue in his ear to communicate. Hell, i've been out of the game for a while maybe ear licking is the new hello. However a whiskey shot marathon doesn't do wonders for being reasonable and I became a total girl. Pouring my heart out to him all over Broadway. Yikes, Sydni. But he followed me around and insisted on coming back to my house. "Oh come on over!" Says drunk me. Sober me is throwing a kick fit inside of herself I am sure because as many of you know I am a stick to my guns kind of gal. We wake up the next morning and he informs me he locked himself out of my building. In his underwear.

"What? Were you sleep walking?"

"No, but I don't know what I was doing."

"How long were you out there?"

"A couple hours. I slept on the stairs then your neighbor let me in."

"OMG my neighbor saw you?"

"He followed me. I went into the wrong apartment first but the dog wasn't Rigby then I found yours."

      Oh, okay. My neighbor saw a delusional drunk man come into my apartment in his neon man panties. Cool. Awesome. After listening to compelling statements from this overgrown douche monkey such as "you just need me more than I need you," and him answering not one but two calls from squeaky, nasally voiced girls, the second of which he reassured "I'm coming, give me twenty minutes." I had enough. If I was a less level headed woman I would have hammer thrown his stuff off my balcony like the Trunchbull throws that little pig tailed girl.  Side note do I look and or carry myself like someone who needs a male figure in her life? Absolutely not. Gross.

   Basically he was a super douche bag. But that's not the worst part. 

     I have three closets. (A perk of not having a man in your life by the way) One walk-in which is right next to the bathroom. Apparently this is confusing for a drunk baffoon because today, four days later, I open the closet door to a wall of horrendous stench. I am talking knock your socks off bad. A familiar smell to any human however. I mean clothes hamper...toilet...I am sure he was easily confused before or after his stairwell debacle and just decided to whip it out and drench whatever laid behind door number two. 

     So if you find yourself thinking of hitting the town and bringing yourself a nice young stud, just don't. Think of me here triple washing four loads of my laundry to remove the urine. 

OF A GROWN MAN.

Things you shouldn't say to me.

Quick little banger I have to get out here:

I do not have kids. Obviously. But I am getting to the point where a large percentage of my friends do. My mommy and daddy friends are wonderful to me. They teach me so much about life and love through their stories and even just being able to watch them evolve into these beautiful compassionate people that they are astounds me. The essence of having children is one I have always been in love with. I want kids, I really do. However, I don't have them right now, and here are some things I wish people would stop saying. Yes, these are things I have actually heard. Surprisingly.

"You want how many kids? Tell your future husband to kiss that body goodbye then."

Wait, what do you mean sustaining a life changes your body? This is news to me fella. Good thing I am so selfish and idiotic that this fact alone will keep me from creating a life. Thank you. So much. I better tell my friend with two young boys who exercises daily, trains for races, oh and and completes them like a badass, that she should stop doing all of that because her body is useless. She will send you a thank you card as well.

"You shouldn't even think about kids until you're married."

Ideally, yes. However that isn't really your business. My sister and I were raised by a single mother. My sister had no father figure for most of her life and yet I am amazed by the woman she has become every single day. I know single mothers, fathers, same sex couples, unmarried couples, that are better parents than some married people I know. Do you love your child? Do you put their needs above your own? Are their bellies full? Okay, congratulations, you're probably a good parent.

"I mean so-and-so was an accident anyway, they had no choice"

Shut up. Just. Shut up. Unplanned does not mean accident.
Accident-noun.

1. 1.

   an unfortunate incident that happens unexpectedly and unintentionally, typically resulting in damage or injury."

   
   

The fact that you just said that makes me pray that you will never have your own kids and if you already do please don't speak like that in front of them. Children may be surprises, but things always unfold as they should and I would like for you to tell that mother that you believe her miracle to be an "accident." I dare ya. Again, some of the best parents I know became so through a surprise arrival.

"Enjoy that freedom while you can."

You're right. Kids are little prison wardens that just ruin lives. Whatever will I do with my raucous nights of being in bed by eleven and dancing with the Swiffer in no pants when I have another life to look after? If only there was some sort of trade off here...like less free time but more meaning and purpose to my life, ya know? Damn kids they just wreck all the meaningful things. You mean, babies are a lot of work? WHAT?! Ugh again, I better go tell my pregnant friends that they're going to be busy because I am sure they have no clue that their lives are about to change.

"Just wait until you have your own."

Okay, saved the best for last. I am WELL AWARE I don't have offspring. Trust me, I think I would recall those nine months of my life. First of all, you have no idea if I am even capable of having children. Maybe I am battling with health issues that leave me unable to do so and your stupid comment just ruined my day in a way you can't understand. Maybe I am perfectly fertile in which case you have no idea what kind of mother I will be. Neither do I. You don't know how I grew up. You don't know what I know of life in general. Are you trying to defend your parenting choices by telling someone they can't have an opinion until they've birthed their own infant? Because by that logic no father is allowed to ever have an opinion, let's leave that to the mamas. That's what you're saying, right? There are a million ways to raise children. Thank God for that or we would have a bunch of creepy little clones running around not teaching each other anything about the world. When I have my own children, I will raise them as I please. As you are free to do with yours. But until then, don't belittle me as a person because I haven't had the chance to be a mother yet. Thanks.

I could probably write on this for another hour. However these are the most recent and I have laundry to do. I know, I know...WAIT UNTIL I HAVE KIDS I WON'T EVEN BE ABLE TO DO LAUNDRY. Got it, thanks.

garden of eden.

    Can we talk about love for a second? Not the kind of "walking down the aisle, front porch swing, my family or yours for Christmas this year?" kind of love. Simply the feeling itself. Stripped down to the root. The raw, visceral emotion that changes everything you need in order to give you exactly what you want. 

Eventually though, that line will become compromised. 

You yourself don't know what you want or need so how exactly is someone else to know? Your desires and necessities change by the day-sometimes even the hour. No one can keep up with that.

                   But you need them to. 

You need them to keep giving you perfection in the form of destruction and keep burning the house down that you've built around yourself until all that remains is a charred crumbling foundation. You will be destroyed; and you should be, shouldn't you? You should leave them be and accept what was. 

                   But you won't.

Like the Mother of Dragons you will stand from those embers covered in your own dust and ash, look them in the face and ask "what's next?" You love it. You love this destructive, carnal rush. You will tell your friends this person means nothing because ultimately, they don't. 

                   But they do. 

You'll let this continue. They'll come around. You're different, remember? Nothing worth having comes easy, right? They will realize it's been you all this time and come running. 

                  But they won't. 

By the darkness of your bedroom they're all you need. That drunken "I love you" coming across your screen breaks your heart night after night. But you're an intelligent person. The sunshine brings clarity with it each morning. 

                 But the moon comes soon after. 

You may think your inner battle to be "head v. heart" but it's not. In reality it is a tag team match in which you have no partner. "head+heart v. you." You see, neither of them are on your side. They will run up and down you and body slam your soul until you shut them both off. 

                 But you can't.

Ultimately this love hurting you is better than not having it at all. Right? It will change. 

                 But it won't. 

                 It never will.

Darling they are your inner struggle but you are merely a shallow game. You know this. For the love of God, they warned you. It's been said that actions speak louder than words and while those words have you dangling off a cliff there will be no hand outreached in your rescue. I would tell you to leave..

                But we both know you'll stay. 

                Better rebuild that house.

                I feel a fire coming. 

    

My dog isn't your friend, and other things I'm not sorry for.

     If you have spoken to me even once, you know I am the epitome of what we society has so affectionately nicknamed-a crazy dog lady. You probably know my dog's name, have seen her picture (or twelve), and heard the latest random canine fact bouncing around in my brain that I think everyone needs to know. What I've learned is that dog ladies come in all breeds: grown men, grandmas, and couples that deem their four legged friend their "baby," there are tons of us...and I'd like to share some things we aren't sorry for.

• I am a single woman living in a metropolitan area. I operate alone on a daily basis. One of the many, though minuscule, reasons I have Rigby is for protection. Do I expect her to full-on take down an intruder in a single bite? No. Would she try? Yes. Am I probably going to have an intruder in my "sensor on every door/cameras everywhere" building? Probably not. But when we are on a walk, whether it be late at night or in broad daylight, she is going to bark at you. She doesn't turn into Cujo at every passerby, but if you come at us with outstretched arms then get pissed off when she barks...HEL-LO. First off, she does not know you and you are in her (more importantly to her-my) personal space. Secondly she is restrained on a leash and may feel like she needs to overcompensate for that. "I may be on this rope but I'll still getcha if you try anything," Is what she's thinking I would imagine, I don't know...crazy dog lady remember? When I see you walking with your human child I absolutely do not run toward it and get up in it's baby grill. Please ask before you touch my dog, I know her body language much better than you and if she isn't feeling it I will have no problem saying "not today she's a little crabby!" I'm not sorry that you are an absolute stranger approaching me and my dog isn't licking your face and rolling over on her belly, she's doing her job which is protecting me. 

•  The same goes for your dog. It's not fair to mine or yours to just charge them at one another and expect them to become instant friends. Rigby loves nine out of ten dogs but you don't know that.  For all you know she is a completely unsocial hermit and is going to react in a very big way. This is another thing people need to understand. I socialized my dog with others from a very young age so she's usually cool with new friends when introduced properly. Not all dogs love other dogs, this doesn't make them mean or bad dogs. Add in the leash factor..bad deal. You know when those people selling things on the side of the road approach your car? You panic. You know they aren't wielding an axe or anything crazy but still, you're trapped. "Oh God, oh God, oh God, here they come what do I do with my hands? They know I saw them there was eye contact. I'll pretend to text..wait no that's illegal. I don't have any cash, THANK YOU GREEN LIGHT." That's typically my inner monologue, at least. Imagine you're in a doors-off Jeep and they just run toward you and hop right in! Not cool. I'm not sorry my dog acted like a complete spaz when you allowed yours to get tangled up in her leash. 

• I have hardwood floors. I have a double coated lab running around my apartment 24/7. Guess what that means? Dog. Hair. I am not exaggerating when I say I can Swiffer and vacuum every day and there will still be tumbleweeds of fur going across my floor three hours later. Guess what else? I sure as hell am not going to clean the floors of my twelve hundred square feet apartment every day. I have better things to do. Those better things may be watching Netflix in no pants but that sounds a lot better than vacuuming to me. I chose to coexist with an animal; I chose to live amongst hair. You are well aware I've made this choice so please for the love of GOD stop stating that there is hair in my apartment or I will start replying with "WHAT WHERE DID THIS COME FROM?! WHAT IS THAT BLACK THING OVER THERE?! WHAT'S HAPPENING HERE?!" I'm not sorry that my dog sheds and I'm not sorry that I don't want to clean it EVERY. DAY.

• I think that sometimes people forget that dogs are animals. In an ideal world we would all have perfectly obedient canines, but this is not an ideal world. The other day a couple brought Chinese take-out to the dog park. Let me tell you about this park really quick: about an acre of fenced in area, picnic tables that the little beasts typically stand on like mountain goats, and at least twenty dogs at all times. Oh, and wood chips and dust flying all over the place when the kids decide to collectively run like the British Calgary. Everyone is confused why you are trying to eat here and even more confused that you're throwing a fit because there are ten dogs surrounding you begging for your General Tso's chicken. Also let me say that Rigby is part Coonhound despite her all black appearance. She drools when we are at the park. Like, looks like Santa Claus with a slobber beard drools. Please don't have a panic attack in your LBD when you call her over and that slobber transfers. You are in a DOG PARK. You CALLED HER TO YOU. There are DOGS HERE. Be thankful that you just got mine's slobber and not the drool of that Boston Terrier that is always eating poop. PS Rigby was being a perfect angel and smelling grass during the take-out debacle but still...I'm not sorry that my dog is..a dog?

• My dog poops. Yep, believe it or not, she does. Outside. In grass. Also we live in a city that requires I clean it up (Thank God). I am not sure why you are giving me that stink face as my dog squats it out or while I clean it up. Actually, no, I totally get the last part. It's really gross and I usually laugh when I see people doing it. But long story short, it's not like I am doing my business on the sidewalk. Until I can train her to use the toilet she is going to have to poo outdoors. Just look away; you're probably embarrassing her. I'm not sorry my dog poops. However I am sorry that I made you read the word "poop" so many times just now. 

• If you have Instagram, you are some degree of narcissist. We all are, and we all love it. We post selfies, pictures of our food, our kids, pictures of us working out, basically our lives. Mine happens to include my dog, beer, and inspirational quotes. But mostly, my dog...and beer. I love seeing sixty pictures of your kids because they're cute and they make you happy, that's why I follow you. I post pictures of Rigby because she is my child more or less. I'm not sorry that you've seen sixty pictures my dog. You know it's going to happen, just let it.

    I am sure there are more, these are just my initial thoughts of dog ownership. The bottom line is that we love our fur babies. Probably too much. But hey, that's our peroggative and we most definitely are not sorry for it. We wear that dog hair loud and proud so you shouldn't be surprised by everything that comes along with it. We know some of you don't like our four legged kids and that's fine. But at least give in to your inner dog lady a little bit, you might just love it. 

sassy wander(lust.)

    It's a strange realization when your family stops becoming a part of your daily life. I can't drive to my grandmother's house for potato soup. I can't fight with my mom and sister over silly little things. My friend and I can't have coffee over her boys' nap time. Everything that I have known and loved my entire life is no longer within arms reach. I suppose that is just growing up, but it isn't really fair now is it? You learn and grow with a support system and until you find "The One" it's just up to you to be your own everything. Sure, thanks to technology your loved ones are just a phone call or text away but no matter how you spin it, it just isn't the same thing.
     We are told to leave home. Like baby birds leaving the nest we are pushed and prodded away and rewarded for doing so. New people. New places. New opportunities. Find happiness..find a new support system..find a new life. But that leaves us wondering what was wrong with the old one. Perhaps nothing. You may jump out of the nest and look around and love what you see. The grass will be greener on the surface. But guess what? No matter what color the grass is, it's nothing but dirt underneath. Dirt is dirt no matter what you put on top of it.
    You can try to build a new system. But you're going to get dropped on your ass a few times. You might meet a boy, he might bare what you think is his heart and soul. He might become the only system you know in your newly jumped out of nest. Then he will throw you to the curb like a bag of decomposing garbage with no explanation but a basic text asking to still be friends. I don't know about you but keeping rotting trash around really just stinks up the place. No thanks, dick. You might find a new job, you might love it. It might not fill the hole in your everyday life. It might leave you wondering what the point of money and a career is with no one to share stories with. You might make new friends. You might consistently doubt intentions. You will have good days. Days that you simply have to look around in order to feel so grateful for the things that have been brought into your life. Positives can always be found. But at the end of the day; all of these things might happen.

And it might create a hole.

And it will hurt.

I'm not batshit crazy-I don't think.

     I moved to Nashville because I was sick and tired of the monotony of life in Illinois. Guess what? Life is monotonous everywhere if you allow it to be. Lately I have been very unsettled. I don't think it has anything to do with being homesick either, I just can't take "life" anymore. I am not depressed, this is not a suicide note, I am actually a very happy lady..I am exhausted. Spiritually exhausted. I am tired of pretending to care about things that I don't. I am tired of wasting minutes, hours, days on things that do not matter. 

I quit two jobs in one week-yeah they were absolutely awful establishments but when I reflect on the situation I think I could be handed any job at this point and see it as a prison.   I have worked my ass off since I was old enough to hold a job. 

Not working used to give me anxiety. 

"No amount of money is enough."

"Seven days a week? Aren't there more shifts I can pick up?"

"I need two jobs."

I have been 100% unemployed for five days now and I am not panicked, I could give two flying farts to be honest. I have money for my bills for now. 

I am a single, childless, twenty one year old female and my expenses per month total over $3000 a month. Do you know what an impoverished family could do with three thousand dollars a month? It makes me sick. But I got into this life because it's supposed to make me happy, right? If you have a nice apartment in a nice neighborhood filled with nice things, that is all you need. 

NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.

If a fire started in your home and burned everything you own to ash, you would be devastated. Who wouldn't? You know what would lift you out of it? 

People. 

Family...Friends...Strangers. 

We see it all of the time. Because people and feelings and experiences are what matter to us when all of the bullshit we buy into is gone. But we are so clouded to what honestly fulfills us because we aren't supposed to think about those things. We think that big televisions and new iPhones matter. They don't. 

 We see people break out of the cycle and think "gosh I wish I could do that." Don't you think they had the exact same thought? How many times have your Facebook friends posted the standard picture of the "hippie van turned living space" and said "OMG I would love to do this!?" The only difference between people who do and people who wish...is that they do. A magical fairy isn't going to show up at your door to change your life. That's your job. 

Having a happy life isn't something that died in 1970. 

Just because our standards of materialism have changed doesn't mean simple life is impossible. 

It's okay not to care about extensions, Instagram followers, or the makeup on your face. It's okay to feel uncomfortable with someone trying to pay your way. It's okay to wake up one morning and decide you're done. You don't have to become what you're surrounded by-and I wish I would have woken up and realized this earlier.

With that being said, if anyone sees a van for sale, let me know :)

music city.

If you haven't heard, I recently uprooted to Nashville. I wish I could say I was one of the blessed souls that came to pursue and live a musical dream; rather I'm just a girl that grew sick of a small town. An opportunity arose with a job in place and roommates pre-selected. The Universe was handing me lemons and I'll be damned if I wasn't going to make lemonade.

I think I love this city...
I haven't gotten to the nitty gritty, so I can't say for sure. The majority of people are sweeter than the teas being guzzled in every restaurant I've been to thus far, everything a gal could ask for is just a short trip away, and obviously the nightlife is something to experience. Despite being a city of 610.000 strong every place I frequent remembers my name and I'm warmly greeted upon entering, I can't really complain.

But let me confess something,
moving to a new city is a terribly disheartening experience every now and then.

Once the vacation-like novelty wears off you realize what you are; just a singular person rebuilding an entire life.

Is that a terrifying or an exhilarating thing? Both?

You may meet good people, or at least they're good until they turn bad. Get back to me on that one.
You have the chance to reinvent yourself if you so wish.
You can literally do anything you damn well please and no one is around to judge you. In a city full of so many strangers no one cares what you are or aren't doing.

A city full of strangers..

How about that.