Female

This might come as a shock to some of you, so brace yourselves: 

I AM A WOMAN. 

Yes, I know it's shocking, but try to keep your composure. 
Allow me for a second to take you back to that lovely time in life called junior high. Remember being 13 or 14 years old and realizing you were ATTRACTED to boys/girls? I remember being 13 or 14 years old and hating boys, but secretly loving them. This secrecy is something I CLUNG to for a decade. 
I have recently relocated and the STRANGEST thing happened. The men in this location seem to identify me as female.
 Just so I'm clear, these MEN see me as a WOMAN and GUESS WHAT? some of them even LIKE ME. And you know what else? I'm ALLOWED to feel the same way towards them and SHOW IT. 
This changes everything. 
This revelation has done more for my self esteem than I thought I even needed! I'm not subjected to suffer in the brozone for the rest of my mortal life. I AM NOT androgynous. 
Don't think I'm now some stuck up blonde that has fooled herself into thinking every man she encounters is falling for her, indeed I am not so far deceived. 

You're probably thinking, wow, Mariah, your words drip with sarcasm and it sounds a little bitter. 
Damn straight. 
Forgive me for not leaping with excitement at having been the only lady-bro left firmly planted in the brozone. 

So here we go, with this newly acquired knowledge that I am indeed a woman who does in fact attract some members of the male species, there's greatly increased potential for complications with any type of relationship with eligible males. Complications and all, it's still quite the breathe of fresh air from perpetually feeling unwantable. 
It's new to me that there are guys out there of suitable age that articulate their feelings. 
It's empowering that I can feel no remorse if I do not reciprocate their feelings and no guilt when admitting either out loud, or to myself that yes, maybe I actually SHARE their feelings.
I'm not saying I'm a smooth heart breaker now (far from it, I'm still a ghastly blumberbum when it comes to fancying someone) all I'm saying is that I'm finally accepting that I'm likable, and I am LOVING IT. 
Anyway, this is all garbage that most people had figured out a while ago but I grew up stifling my feelings for too long. Maturation is now a possibility and it's exciting! Now that I am learning to let go, I can turn the page to the new chapter of my book of love. 
I can't believe I just said "book of love", if I ever write a book about love and stuff and my feelings about boys do me a favor and don't read it and maybe see if you can get me some help. 
Peace out muthafluffas

Music and Memory

Maybe it's just me, but music is a huge part of my life. Music seems to hold all of my memories. I have realized through some recent interactions that music is not a big part of quite of large percentage of the population. So if you're like me then let's not fist bump but totally say we did. 
Now I am not scientist. I don't really care what it says about what kind of brain I have that I link music so close with emotion and memories. The fact is that I do. 
I have come to realize these last few days that if I am to better control my thoughts I must monitor more closely the music that I allow myself to listen to. Why, because if I listen to too much TI I am going to go tint my windows and get black rims on my Camry? No. Well, actually the jury is still out on that one because that now rather old school remix of TOP BACK is just TOO GOOD. But ugg there I go this is exactly what I'm talking about. I would love to say that I wouldn't spend my meager funds on such a trivial thing but I have actually put a substantial amount of thought into how I could make this happen financially, maybe or maybe not just so I could play that song as I cruise around town. 
February marks some kind of 'anniversary' month for me. It is where I marked the start of the toughest year of my life, emotionally. So now, a year later, I am blessed that I can say the hardest year of my life to this point is OVER. yay! For me this means a lot. 
It means that there is an entire year of music that reminds me of said year. Taylor Swift dropped an album, full of passion and heartbreak, and many other fanciful ideas. I love Taylor Swift, and I have never been ashamed of that. She is my spirit animal. Sam Smith, he also dropped an album. Mr. Smith seems to be the king of unrequited love, which is funny because I'm the queen. Or maybe he's the queen and I'm the king? Well, I'll let you decide that one. 
80's hits remind of me of my pops, so I love 80's music. REO, Phil Collins, Earth Wind and Fire, Elton, you name it I got it. PS Dire Straights is my favorite. 
Mama loves her country. She is indeed the most patriotic, English American citizenized lady you will ever meet in your whole life guarenteed. So yes, I like country. Namely 90's country. Ya know, the stuff mama raised me on. Collin Raye, Shania, JMM, Brookes and Dunn, Alan Jackson, Toby Keith. She also loved Celine Dion and Abba. I am the dancing queen. 

OK let's just move on and make this more relatable to my general audience shall we? 
I just think it is fascinating and amazing that memories can be made so vivid through music. I hope I am not the only one out there who experiences this. I'll be listening to my music library or driving in the car and all of a sudden a song comes on and I go back. I can remember EXACTLY where I was, what time of day, who I was or was not with, and how I was feeling. It doesn't matter if I am 10,000 miles or 3,000 miles or 1,  I'm still RIGHT there where I was NO MATTER how long ago it was that the memory was created. 
I mean, for heavens sake I remember dancing the Macarena with the neighbor boy from across the street when I was four. He was handsome. And also I'm pretty sure much older than me, probably not actually in love with me and just humoring the poor neighbor girl with the unusually large head. 
I remember what I said and how I felt at my eighth grade and high school graduations when those respective 'songs' were playing. Ok so maybe I remember the high school one because it was particularly embarrassing. I'm talking like extremely painful completely out of control but we are SO not getting into that in this post.
Whether or not I am quick to skip a track or turn it up depends on who likes or dislikes a song. If a person I do not like loves a song, I am sure to skip it because by golly I don't like that person why on earth would I listen to one of their favorite songs? I acknowledge that I let it have too much control over my music choices. 
Music- it's a powerful thing, and I for one need to be careful about what I allow it to do to my mind. 

Not about love.

Paris. Oui oui oui I was blessed enough to have visited Paris, France. What a fantastic way to wrap up what was literally the worst year of my life. Praise to God that I have slowly been able to begin crawling out the hole of depression I fell into. Paris was amazing (I picked up a serious illness in Paris that I think is now out my system finally, but we're not gonna talk about that today) and I loved to experience that with just my immediate family. I won't go into the details of Paris, for fear of sounding like another spoiled rich white kid (ok maybe I am a bit), but I do want to talk about a realization I had out there.

So here we go. 

Whilst we were in that city, the girls wanted to go shopping. Because, well, Paris...I guess, right? Some of my readers may know that I do not enjoy shopping. I'd much rather sit in a warm coffee shop having a deep conversation with the person sitting across from me. In fact, I'd rather do that then most any thing in life if I'm being completely honest. Needless to say, I tried to stick with the men during these sprees. As one of the shopping runs was coming to a close, my dad makes a comment about how some guy is gonna think he hit the jackpot with me, a girl that would rather NOT shop. 

It all started in junior high. My group of friends seemed to think that an afternoon at the mall was fun. Hmm, ok I thought, this is new, but if this is what girls do, I guess I can go a long with them and have fun. I don't remember too much from my junior high days, just because I have tried too hard to forget it. So let's fast forward to high school....

My best friend in high school LOVED to shop. And she STILL does, bless her heart. I'm convinced she thinks that my particular body type is WASTED on me because I hate to play that fashion game and shopping and dressing up. I remember one time I let it slip that I needed a fancy skirt for interviews coming up and that opened some kind of can of worms. Except these worms were pencil skirts. Really tight and inevitably short pencil skirts. She almost died of happiness as I awkwardly tried the first few on. My confidence slowly grew in the days after she bought me one. The first time I wore that skirt I'm pretty sure I saw some jaws literally drop. Silly boys. Thanks girl. 

Shopping isn't limited to girls, however. I remember one shopping trip I took with my guy friends seemed to last way too long for my liking, even if it was toys-r-us. But I got to wield some foam weapons and beat on them so I guess it might have been worth it. 

I know I'm not the only one of my kind, please let me know if you too are a female non-shopper.  My friends know that I have a time limit to how long I'm going to last before I start acting like a hungry tired  five year old. I'm the girl that sits on the bench outside the dressing rooms with the boyfriends. I hold the purses, or the accessories that need not be brought into the changing room. I am always the designated "boyfriend" in the shopping relationship and I'm ok with that, I have accepted my role and I thrive in it. But I'd like to think there's some one else out there like me.  

But do not think that I do not have my moments. When there is an article of clothing that I need or dare say - DESIRE - I will go shopping.. For example, last weekend. I couldn't take it any longer. I have the shorts, I have the visors, I needed the fanny pack. So I bought three. Yes, I went shopping, of my own will.  I know, try not to yelp. 

The endless aisles and racks of clothes bore me. Trudging around the shops grabbing everything that may look decent on me drains me of all my energy. Watching YOU do the same is just as bad. If I want to be with you, I will go shopping with you, if that is what it takes to be with you. But please, replenish some of that energy by talking with me over a cup of coffee or lunch. Stay up until 1 with me talking about, just....life I guess. I realized the people left in my life are good at that - and for that I am forever grateful. Dearest friends, thank you for loving me and my little quirks. Dearest of friends, I love you.

Happy Valentines Day.

I Run

Ok. so Taylor dropped an album about a month ago (ay ay ay). As a good cookie cutter white girl, you all HAD to know this post was coming. ACTUALLY, this post is like the most spur of the moment I've done in a while. Those often turn out to be my best posts. So we will see, maybe starting off with telling you about the new Swiftie cd was a weak start, maybe I've already lost half of my readers.

Well I have been thinking a lot about boys, because, whether or not I like it, some boys have had quite an influence. I'm just gonna shake it off. Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break.

I do tend to run. I run when I can't handle boy things.

So let me take you through a journey. We'll call it 'exhibit A.' Most of my coworkers will not be surprised when I say I was more than a little bit infatuated with the night manager at my latest job. I use the word infatuated because I was completely aware that we were not compatible on basically any level, and I say 'more than a little bit' because I worked late nights and did not have much else to occupy my mind. I won't describe the nature of our relationship not because it was scandalous, but because I tend to have very awkward, difficult-to-explain relationships of ANY kind with boys I fancy. Basically it's just not worth mentioning, and yet HERE I AM.

The context of this story is that I was leaving. I was leaving my amazing coworkers because I was leaving the state. I was moving across the country for...for many reasons. Bad coworkers were NOT one of those reasons. 
So this was literally the last time I am ever gonna see this guy in my whole life. The interaction went splendidly.
 I sheepishly approach him, he's dutifully doing his job, stocking shelves or something manly like that. He had his dolly-cart with him. (I call it that because I don't know what else to call it: but it's important to note that it had a bar to push it)
So we said our goodbyes, which were less awkward than I thought they would be, he even gave me a hug. A nice hug too. Hugs mean a lot to me because well, I'm a hugger, and I'm also tall, which can make hugging a challenge at times.
 This was not one of those times, the mans taller than me. 
Well, maybe.
 Also maybe this hug wasn't a good idea because it got me even more nervous. We begin to walk down the [bread] aisle together (wow that escalated right?), and as he's pushing his dolly, I place my hand on the bar as well. I do this because, you know, it's occupying both our walking space, and we are walking and talking together, casually, super casually and I'm so smooth. Moments like these hand placement is everything, but I was trying way too hard to be so casual that I accidentally place my hand DIRECTLY on top of his hand that's pushing the dolly. This is when all my smoothness is thrown out the window and my mind bursts. From what I can remember, I stuttered out a breathy apology and started RUNNING. I bolted, no doubt in front of the dolly as he's pushing it. I think, I THINK, I sought solace in my female coworker. And by seeking solace I mean I ran to her as fast as I could from where I was with the man, and 'hid' behind her, disregarding the fact I'm about 7 inches taller than her. That's the story of how I never became the salt to his pepper.  

This concludes exhibit A. I have a feeling that I've already shared this in one of my posts, so sorry if you just had to read it twice.
I have many other examples like this, but I am not super eager to prove my point further. Because the point is just that I run. They are the hunters we are the foxes. And we run. Except there is not we. There is just a me. I run. I always run.

I ran.

So here I am, exactly one month from returning to the States. I am fully aware upon my arrival, break time is over. I am unemployed and currently seeking work in my area, a tiresome phrase.

As far as my emotional and mental state go, I have good days and bad days but the good days are outweighing the bad. Three months ago, I would have said the opposite.

On the good days I am excited to go back and start over in Florida. I'm excited to be a part of my family there. I have an opportunity to be a cousin, niece, granddaughter, and "aunty" to a whole set of people I've always just known OF my whole life.

 On bad days I hate that I called it quits in California and I wish - with everything in me - that I could have taken the bad with all the good. I hate that I had to leave the ones that it was all working with. It honestly keeps me up at night (it's midnight while I'm writing this) and causes my heart so much grief. I constantly think "oh gosh if I could just have gotten over myself it could have been so good"
Yes, it could have.
 I have to accept that I wasn't strong enough. Some day I might be, and when that day arrives, I will know what to do.

I hope to reach a point when I can look back not with sadness for things lost but with joy for what has been. Some day, but we are not out of the woods yet.

The terrifying journey

Yes, I'm talking about driving in a third world country. I know that it is not limited to the country I am in as I can not imagine that there are not a hundred other countries with drivers as crazy as they are out here. "Third-world" or not, I acknowledge the fact that I am not alone.
This year is my third time out here, so I knew what to expect. The first time I visited my family had only been here nine months and so they rather expected for me to be shocked. By the next year, however, they were completely unaccustomed to the "normal" way of driving, as they had fully adopted the new normal. All this means is that when I would gasp and shriek as we were driving a long they whipped their head around to me, perturbed at my outburst. It took them some time to realize that I was not used to what I was seeing and experiencing on the roads of this crazy big city they live in. By my third visit (my time here now) I've learned to keep my mouth shut for the most part. That is until now.
I've quickly discovered how much lanes are taken for granted in the States. Here, lanes are guidelines here. No, actually, lanes are just laughable pointless lines on the road. There is no such thing as a safe lane change here, because you kind of just drift from one side of the road to the other, if your bumper is ahead of theirs, you have the right of way. If you're on the losing end, you better move out the way or else you will get bumped out of the way and cursed at while doing so.
Now I will talk about intersections. All intersections, slow or busy in America have stop lights, turning lanes, even lights for turning lanes, and you have to be stupid to not know which lane you are suppose to be turning into. Here you have to be stupid to think you know which lane you will be turning into, or even from. You have to turn left, but you are in the far right lane of a three, four car wide street? No problem, DO AS YOU PLEASE! I live in a huge metropolis, so I can't say what it is like in the more rural areas of the region. We do have busy intersections with adequate stop lights. However, if the intersecting crossroads are in any way NOT major, it's a free for all. How do you turn then? Well, you drive out IN TO THE MIDDLE OF TRAFFIC, and wait. If it's possible, you may try to keep out of the way of oncoming traffic, from both your front and your back, but if that's not an option, well then it's not an option and traffic must go around you or stop until oncoming cars lend you an opportunity to make your desired turn.
Trucks and buses terrify me in the States. Why? Well, for starters I do not like things being bigger than me. That includes people too, if I'm being honest. Then take the fact that I do not enjoy driving, and the idea of the automobile is kind of scary to me. How many tons of machinery driving HOW FAST? Well, trucks and buses here follow the same rules as all cars: there are no rules. In fact, there's only one rule for class C drivers out here, and that is that when you see a bus or a truck YOU GET OUT OF THE WAY. All you can do is pray that you are not in their blind spot when they decide to turn, merge, or swerve just to give the common man a jolt. They reign supreme on the wild streets of this city and they know it.
Drivers. Now I must tread lightly on this ground. Why? Because I understand that people who drive in this country are reading this. Take what you are about to read with this in mind: I have and will only ever be a passenger in this country. I will never trust myself enough to drive in this country. I do not wish to invalidate any ones skill as a driver in these parts. Crazy as they may be, in some odd way they are probably some of the best drivers I know. Why? Because driving here is A WAR ZONE. I respect the struggle, but I do not wish to join it, because as I said before, they are crazy. It's every man for himself out their and every one insane enough to get on the road knows it. Defensive drivers are non existent.
My favorite part about drivers here is just one hand gesture. What is it? Well, they simply raise their open palmed hand in the air. This? This pardons all wrong doing. Someone is cutting you off at the round about? No worries, they raised their hand. All is forgiven. A moped is driving down the highway the wrong way? Hand up? It's forgotten. Pedestrians join this game too! They weave their way through traffic the same as cars. You're about to hit the gas but someone steps out right in front of you. Well they've not only raised their hand but placed the other one on their chest, this basically means you two are chums now. Like you've shared some sort of experience and the bond can not be broken. He crosses safely to the other side and you have the illusion that you have a new best friend. Forget the fact that you almost killed him and he's totally at fault. Crosswalks exist but the value of them should, at this point of my post, be understood.
As fast as my heart has beat and as sweaty as I may get just being an eternal passenger in this crazy city I would not change this experience for anything. I am just about halfway through my extended stay here, and I'm still alive and uninjured. Lord willing the next two months, I will not have to recant this testimony. 

Permission to live

I was 21 and 1/2 when I graduated college. I'd been in school since I could walk (almost literally I was a very late walker, some of you aren't surprised. Most of you aren't surprised.) What this means is that up until 21 years of age I have had people telling me what to do. I had a set of boundaries put up either by myself or by others that, as long as I operated within those boundaries, I could do any thing. School, classes, schedule. That was my life. That's what it was built around for me. This may sound silly to those of you who know I was not a very good student and only really enjoyed the social aspect of school. But at least when people asked me what I was doing with my life I could say with confidence "oh, I'm a student." That's always been my identity. 
So here I am, a year and a half after closing the chapter in my life called "formal studies". Now what? CAN SOME ONE PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHAT I AM SUPPOSE TO BE DOING WITH MY LIFE? Right now I'm living with my parents again, jobless, hoping to gain an answer to that question. As students, we have it pounded into our head that a high paying or fulfilling career is what we must do with our lives. Ok teachers and grad students, please don't get your panties in a bunch. I know I'm not the only one who feels like this is the standard set for me as a college grad. Just let me have my say. 
What about those of us who'd rather jump off a bridge than enroll in another semester of classes and spend another hundred dollars on books that the teacher may or may not use? What about those of us who did not "hear" the "calling"? What about those of us who do not feel drawn to a certain "career"? What about those of us who aren't even sure of all the gifts and talents we possess? What about us? What about me?
I can't speak for every one but I'm certainly going to speak for me. No one on this earth can tell me what the standards are that I need to be living by. I plan on spending the rest of my life, my time (back in my parents house)here included, finding what makes me fulfilled. I set my goals. My life is going to look different than any body else, because, just like you, I'm an individual. I may not have any of the answers I want right now, but I'm only 23. So this is me ridding myself of the people that tell me  I am worth less than what I am. This is me shaking off the lies, the false standards, breaking the walls, ready to live my life. 

I'll be the first to say that I've been a whiny spoiled little brat but the jokes over. It's not cute or funny any more. It never was. It's lame and stupid. Sure sometimes life sucks and it was rough, but that's the past. I plan on returning to my new home at the start of the new year, hitting the ground running, or walking, if that's what I choose. But it is after all, MY choice. I plan on using this time and distance to gain objectivity and a better perspective. I hope to transform the negatives to positives. The search for my purpose and my identity continues. It is intimidating but also new and exciting. 

Why

There are some people in this world who relocate destination oriented (leaving strictly for bigger and better things) and there are some who relocate because they must leave something behind (escaping...unpleasantries). There's a bit of a build up here because you must understand my frame of mind if you are going to understand the rest of this post. I fall into both sides of this "relocation spectrum" [i don't know if spectrum is the correct word exactly but I hope you get it]. There's a lot that I am going to have to leave out of this post, but it's my blog and I am the writer and editor so deal. And just because I leave it out does not mean it's not playing a major part in my decision making. 

One more topic I must preface this with is that I am independent. I believe I am independent in the truest sense of the word. Right now I've been holding down a "nine to five" job [3-12 job for those who know me] for about a year. I clock in and clock out and I do NOT have to bring my job home with me. No strings attached there. I have no boyfriend, husband, or kids. I debated just now whether to "get in" to the details of the topic of "boys" but I would not be able to stop so I'm going to try to breeze by this and keep going, and maybe hit that  point later. I have minimal commitments in serving, at church and in the community, some by choice, some not. [As of late I see how this has been a good thing as I am about to leave but another part of me knows that I am afraid of commitment because that means I would have to stay] Not too many strings attached there. I've got no strings on me I'm feeling fancy free. Except that I'm not. I am not sure if my resisting these strings has been a good thing (can we say twenty something with a fear of commitment, I'm a cookie cutter, really). With me I know the possibilities are endless, nothing is permanent and even though I can't wait to get out of here, if it's God's will to bring me back here, well then that's still on the table (I've learned to never say never because that's exactly how I ended up back here). I know that even as I write this God could still put something in my path that changes all my plans. That's just where I'm at right now, everything is temporary, nothing is settled.

So enough of that, here we go. 

Destination oriented: 

1) My two younger siblings were both quite young when I up and left for college, and they were not much older when  they moved overseas. So I am ceasing this opportunity to spend at least a few months actually being their big sister. I am excited to see the people they are becoming.

~~For those who do not know, my tentative plan is to finish out the remainder of the year (August through at least December) with my parents, sisters and brother overseas. Upon my return to the States, I have some family on the East Coast I plan to live with. 'Tentative' is a very important word when used in the same sentence as 'plan' in my life, because if you have not noticed by now I really have no idea what direction my life is taking. It's a rather exhausting place to be in life. ~~

2) Living back in my parents household is not going to be easy as I have been out from under their roof for quite a few years now. I know also that adult children at home is especially tricky when those parents are still in the process of raising two other children. This being said, I know it's going to be a growing opportunity for me. I know the Lord has blessed me with two of the wisest people as parents and I am excited to have them physically present to speak into my life again. And also hugs. You don't understand the value of parental hugging until you go a full year without it. Don't pretend like you know my struggle.

3) The world. I have been blessed in being born into somewhat of an international family. A family that knows there is a world beyond the borders of the county. I am so excited to see the world. I am excited to spend some time, no matter how long that may or may not be, in another country, on a different continent. Even with the language barrier, I have been raised to know how vital it is to experience other cultures. With a family lineage like mine, how can I not travel? That's not to say that my unsettled state might not get tiresome some time from now. Like I said, nothing in my life is really permanent. And I'm not saying my family's way is the only way. Maybe some sense of regional stability rooted in my family would have done me some good, who knows? (inquirers get lost somewhere between England, Ethiopia, Morocco, and Santa Barbara. So i don't know if you really want to know about my family)

Leaving behind:

1) This thing that I can't even talk about.. I wish I could say that I was in a different place in my attitude towards all of "this" but I'm not. Most everyone would scoff at my continual struggle with any of this - on any level - this far down the road. But, I am not most people and this is an extremely difficult situation that I have allowed myself to continue in for much (x 1000000000) too long and I'm emotionally drained, to put it lightly. My fragile naive hurting little heart, unfortunately, has never known what a white flag is so I can't even pretend to know what "surrender" is going to look like in this current (yes, current) situation. I'm afraid that's all I can write on the matter. Pray for me.

2) Insecurities. Insecurities that stem from hurt that I was never able to process or deal with. Don't get me wrong, I am more than grateful for everything EVERYONE here has done for me not only this past year but my whole life. I am so blown away by the beauty of some hearts I've come to know this last year. On the real, there's a select PRECIOUS few that I WILL cry over having to leave behind. MOST people the Lord has put in my life during my stay have done EVERY THING they could to love and accept me. But for me (with some), it was just never enough and I realize now it's never going to be enough and that is not healthy. I tend to blame myself because my affections (not boy-affections, just general) were misplaced. My expectation of what certain relationships needed to look like were not reality and will never be reality. I realize that now; I also realize that insecurity is personal and no one else is truly to blame. Whatever was meant to be has been. If I do not find security in what really matters, then these same insecurities will be waiting for me no matter where I am. It's time now for me to step out of my current situation, there's nothing more I'm expecting to gain. 

3) Debt. Right at this moment the hurt is so real that it is difficult for me to see the lessons the Lord has been teaching me in my time back. So I'm going to focus on the practical positives of what I have done in my time here. I HAVE PAID OFF MY STUDENT LOANS IN FULL. My final check posted about one month after my one year graduation anniversary. I know how monumental this is but it has not sunk in yet and I don't think it truly will until get out there to explore all the doors that are NOT closed on me BECAUSE I am debt free. What I am leaving behind a LABORIOUS job that has allowed me to knock out my loans quickly. The biggest blessing in the cruelest disguise. I worked at a tiny grocery store. I do not hesitate leaving this job but I do hesitate leaving the community. The way I was able to bless and be blessed by some of my regulars is something I'll carry with me my entire life. The same and more can be said about my coworkers. I am going to miss SO MUCH all the amazing, broken, beautiful people, just like me - that I had the pleasure of working alongside. 

I'll be 23 at the end of the summer.  My 22nd year of life is not something that I would repeat EVEN IF YOU PROMISED ME A LIFETIME OF HAPPINESS WITH A DANCING DARK MOCHA BOY WITH DIMPLES. Well, maybe if he had dimples, when it comes to dimples I just can't. Anyway I hope to one day look back on this year of life and NOT cringe and be able to look past all the bad that happened and just look at the gold nuggets. Right now however, I am not feeling 22, not in any way. Sorry Taylor. Go away. No don't tswift you're an inspiration to tall girls everywhere I kind of love you.

In conclusion, I do not want this to come across as me being a whiny unsatisfied brat who does not see everything I have been given since moving back. I want to just thank everyone who has worked overtime to make sure I did not completely lose it, and who made sure I was well loved and fed on any holiday and any days in between. I am looking forward to bigger and better things which as of this moment I KNOW can not be found here. This place will always be home, and when all is said and done, and in the grand scheme of my life I know it will be only good times remembered.