throwback…

to the first ever pic D posted of us on Facebook. People were still way grumpy back then about our relationship. Well…his people. My people were like omg it’s about fucking time you moved on. Only my friends “liked” the pic. Haha.

We look so different now. I remember that night vividly. D’s band was playing a show at Just John in The Grove. A bunch of my friends came out. It was a good time. We used to always go to Steak ‘n Shake after those shows, mostly because it was the only place open.

I miss my long hair. Fucking cancer. Grr.

It’s so crazy how much life can change in just four years.

Anyway…this pic makes me smile. Thanks, Facebook. You don’t always suck.

every queen needs a throne

Five years ago, Scott and I went to a used furniture store to buy stuff for our new office space. He insisted on getting a pic of me in this giant chair: 


Today we went back to buy furniture to accommodate our growing office. The chair is still there, so he insisted upon an updated pic: 


So much has changed in just five years. It’s sort of a mind fuck, but in the best possible way. ❤️

Thankful Thursday

The little ghetto girl that will always live inside my heart cannot believe how lovely life has become. I remember living in the broken down house in the “bad” part of Ferguson. The house with the bullet holes. The house with the abusive, alcoholic, drug addicted father. The house of pain and sadness. The very atmosphere was oppressive.  I used to daydream of how life could maybe be someday if I just tried hard enough. I could go to college and law school. I could fall in love. Have a family. Build a beautiful life. I felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, and so many obstacles in my way. But I never ever gave up. And here I am now, looking back on a childhood that feels so very far away now. The pain, the suffering, and the struggle were so worth it. I feel so very fortunate.

And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife
And you may ask yourself
Well…How did I get here?

throwback thursday: playlist edition

I created this Spotify playlist entitled “Feelings” on May 16, 2013, when the bf and I were going through a break up. (It lasted less than a week, btw).  I’m listening to it now, and it’s a good list, but definitely brings up a lot of feelings. It’s aptly named. Haha. Mostly, I just feel amazed at how much things can change in just three years.

  1. Call It Off – Tegan & Sara
  2. I’ll Back You Up – Dave Matthews Band
  3. Blue Jeans – Lana Del Rey
  4. Happy Now? – No Doubt
  5. Stubborn Love – The Lumineers
  6. Gone Away – My Brightest Diamond
  7. Where Does The Good Go? – Tegan & Sara
  8. The Scientist – Coldplay
  9. Hysteric – Yeah Yeah Yeahs
  10. Quitter – Toadies
  11. Goddamn Lonely Love – The Drive-By Truckers
  12. How Come You Don’t Want Me? – Tegan & Sara

what a wicked game you play to make me feel this way

The other day I heard the song Wicked Game by Chris Isaak and it made me think about the first time I ever had an orgasm.

I was about to be a senior in high school and dating this dude, let’s just call him M, who was (newly) in college. I was very sexually inexperienced. I was actually terrified of sex, not because I wasn’t interested, but because I was so worried I would end up getting pregnant and ruining the plans I had for myself. I believed that sex was better suited for college, when I could get on birth control and make sure there would be no babies. So I kept that shit on lock down, which really wasn’t that hard because until I met M nobody was even trying. (I did end up having sex in high school, with my next boyfriend actually, but that is a story for another time).

So anyway, M and I were making out in my room, as we often did, and then he went down on me, and fucking whoa. I had an orgasm after like less than a minute, and totally freaked out. I made him go home. Haha. The music video for Wicked Game was playing on VH1 while this was happening.  It’s weird how you remember stuff like that.

M didn’t give up easily. He wanted to bang and he tried and tried. He wanted me to give him a blow job. I refused. He wanted me to have sex with him. Nope. A hand job was the best he was getting. It didn’t help matters that he had a giant penis that I was legitimately terrified of having anywhere inside of me. 

You would think that my refusal to give him any significant sort of sexual satisfaction would have had him running for the hills, but nope. He became increasingly obsessed with me. After only three months, he was confessing his undying love, begging me to put off my plans to leave the area for college, and saying we were going to be together forever.  So I did what any reasonable seventeen-year-old girl would do, I fucking bailed.

Unfortunately, M didn’t take the news so well. He started stalking me. He called me constantly. He would show up at my school even though he didn’t go there anymore. I worked at the local library and he would come in when he knew I was working. He went to my friends houses and harassed them regarding my whereabouts. He would drive by my house all hours of the day and night. I caught him following me in his creepy rape van at least five times when I would walk to my grandmother’s house (she lived a couple of streets away from me). I kept this all quiet for the most part.  The deal breaker was when I saw him trying to climb our fence so he could look (or possibly break) into my bedroom window sometime late one night. 

I finally broke down and told my step-dad, which I had been avoiding because my step-dad was not exactly the most rational and/or peaceful man, but I was freaked out. I told him the same night as the bedroom window incident and my dad left the house shortly thereafter. I have no idea what the fuck happened that night, but I never saw M again.  The only reason I know he’s not dead is because he contacted me several years later on Myspace while that was still a thing. He let me know he was still down to hook up, because of course he was.

Anyway, it’s sort of funny how hearing a song triggered all these memories. I haven’t thought about this stuff in a long time.

she’s a jar with a heavy lid

On the way to drop Jackson off at camp this morning, I turned on my Wilco playlist, which I don’t listen to very often anymore. After Casino Queen finished playing, Jackson asked, “Why do you and daddy listen to the same music?”  So I had to explain to him that his daddy and I used to be ridiculously into Wilco. That we used to drive from Santa Barbara to Los Angeles to see them in concert, and we would wait 8 plus hours in line to make sure that we got to be right up front. I told him about how we were lucky enough to score tickets to see the premiere of I Am Trying To Break Your Heart (a film about Wilco) in Los Angeles, and how we loved Yankee Hotel Foxtrot so much that it actually moved us to tears sometimes. 

It’s nice to relive the good memories every once in a while, because it wasn’t always bad, and sometimes it was really, really good. I think it’s important for Jackson to know that his dad and I used to love each other very much. 

It’s bittersweet, though. For sure.