A letter to Dad.

Happy Father's Day.

Every year at this time, I miss going and trying to pick a tie that you might like, even though you rarely wore them. I miss going to Steve and Barry's to get you another hoodie for your obnoxiously large collection. I miss standing in the aisle at the grocery store trying to find a card that would make you laugh. I loved your laugh. I loved how when you laughed too hard, it sounded like a fat kid with asthma, just gusts of wind blowing through a tunnel. It was contagious.

I love that, even though you left this earth, you left me with so much. You left me with strength, wisdom, courage, independence and a strong will. You taught me how to be rough and you taught me when to put that aside, though it's something I still struggle with. You taught me how to stand up for what I believe in. You showed me that it's okay to have weaknesses, and it's even okay to let some people know what those weaknesses are. You were an example of strength. By being such a stubborn man and not letting anyone help you, even with something as simple as moving furniture, you taught me that sometimes it's necessary to let others help.

You continue to inspire me every day. Your memory is behind most of the decisions I make. The letters you wrote me are placed around my room to remind me how much you loved me. Your pictures hang on my walls so I can see your smiling face and remember what a wonderful father you were to me. I know sometimes you doubted yourself as a parent, who doesn't? But you were the best father you could be, and I wouldn't trade that for anything in the world.

I am glad you get to spend Father's Day in Heaven celebrating with your Dad and your Heavenly Father. I miss you like crazy.

Thank you for the 18 wonderful years I spent with you. Happy Father's Day, Daddy.

I love you.

It's funny.

It's funny how the mind works; how seeing someone's picture can make you miss them. But, when you think about the time you spent together, or lack thereof, and how disappointing it turned out to be, that longing disappears. Sorry, gentlemen. I'm far from high-maintenance, but I do kind of expect to see you sometimes. If this seems demanding, you're going to have a hard time finding a woman.

It's funny to look back at past relationships, platonic and/or romantic. To see how many have come and gone, and how few have lasted, and to find yourself questioning why you believed in them to begin with. I don't mean for this to sound quite so depressing. But, honestly, think about some of the friendships and relationships you've been in. You know damn well that there has been at least one where you verbalized the well-known "WHAT WAS I THINKING?!" after-thought.

It's funny how different people can be from each other. Some people hate change (me) and others embrace it and thrive off of it. Some people dream about their future (me) and others dwell on their past. Some people like to plan and know what's going to happen (me) and others live completely spontaneously.

It's funny to remember the phases you've passed through in your life. Though my life has just begun and has plenty of time to endure new phases, I love to laugh at some of the old ones. The super flared jeans, the opera music, the bright colored eye shadow that I thought was attractive, the rap music accompanied by the Puerto Rican boyfriend that was no good for me, the platform flip flops, adding "...NOT" to the end of all of your sentences just in case there wasn't enough sarcasm already, MySpaceXangaFacebook, and many, MANY more.

It's funny to see where my life is now and think about where it would have been "...if..."

• ...if Dad was still here.

•  ...if I had lived with those people that I thought were my friends. 

•  ...if I had stayed with that boyfriend.

•  ...if I had chosen a different degree plan. 

•  ...if I hadn't eaten that Chinese food for dinner.

Because even though I'll always wonder "if", I can always look where I am now and know that somewhere along the line, I did something right.

It's funny how some friendships go.
There are those that come into your life and you are completely unaware of why they've been put there. One day you realize how much they've impacted you.
There are those that come into your life and you know right away that they're there for a reason. They create such a tidal wave of emotion in your life and no matter what happens between y'all in the future, they're a big part of your life.
There are those that come into your life and spread poison. Sometimes you're completely unaware until it's too late.
And then there are those that come into your life when you're two-years-old and don't have a clue what life even is. They stick by your side through everything, fly to you from across the country when you're in need, and you find yourself wide awake at 2:00 in the morning because you're so excited to fly out to see them in a week.

It's funny how you dream up this life for yourself and, one day, you wake up and see pieces of it falling into place. I can't wait for the day when I wake up and all the pieces have created a beautiful picture of the life I knew I would have. They say you've reached "middle-age" when you spend more time looking back at your memories than dreaming about your future. Aside from the hundreds of bottles of hair color I will use and the new cars I will buy myself, I think that's reason enough to look forward to middle-age.

Life is funny. Good thing laughter is the best medicine.

 

A little rant for the evening.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The semester is almost complete.

I can't even begin to describe the sense of relief that has begun to come over me. Despite the numerous things I have to accomplish before I can claim to be done, I feel good.

All semester long, I looked at this mound of school work as a hellish monster that was sure to consume me in one piece. The reality: it was slightly less hellish than assumed and only ate one little piece of me at a time. BUT, the good news is, like a lizard's tail, my parts grew back slowly.

I also kept my hair. I did rip some out on occasion when things just weren't going my way and the devil was having a field trip in my mind. I also discovered some gray hairs, and eyebrow hairs, and eyelashes (which I found very strange). But I just borrowed some of the stuff my mom uses to get rid of her grays and everything is okay.

(Just kidding, Mommy. I love you.)

This semester flew by like some of the best parts of my life. They say time flies when you're having fun. I think time also flies when you don't have time to slow down and check your calendar or even your watch. I made a lot of self-discoveries. I learned a lot about myself, my endurance, my tolerance, my talents, my ability to overcome certain odds, my time management skills (and the need for improvement) and most importantly, my strength.

Sidenote: time for a tangent.


Don't ask why, but I decided to look up my career choice on Urban Dictionary to see how people "define me". This is what I found:

"Journalist: a professional liar. a professional distorter. a professional hate mongerer. they craftily use newspapers and television programs to create the illusion that the entire world believes like them. in reality, they are literally just a couple psychos with a really big megaphone. Like Satan, they only have any influence in your life if you choose to let them in."

Sit back. Here we go.

~Professional liar- actually, like most jobs, when journalists lie, they get fired. In fact, the job of an editor is to make sure the journalists are not liars. In fact, journalists are required to cite all information and sources to protects against lying. In fact, the first rule in journalism is "do not fabricate or falsify".

~Professional distorter- see above.

~Professional hate mongerer- I think I'll start by stating the obvious. The creator of this post on Urban Dictionary is obviously not a writer at all because "mongerer" is not in the English vocabulary. Second of all, someone has their panties in a twist. The job of a journalist is not to incite anger or hate. It is to convey factual information that educates the reader.

~Craftily using newspaper and television to create the illusion that the entire world believes like journalists- ha. hahahahaha. haha. That was my first reaction to reading this sentence. Craftily using newspaper and television? Yeah, that's not exactly how this field works. Television and newspaper use information put together by journalists. The journalists are not responsible for the information that is presented. They do not create the facts or the situations or the results. They simply act as a medium for the general public to receive information. And to make the public "believe like them"? Journalists don't believe anything. We're trained to basically doubt everything. We have to research the research that the researchers give us. We are trained to make sure that anything we say or use is obtained from an educated, professional, reliable source. The general public couldn't "believe like us" if they tried.

~A couple of psychos with megaphones- see local high school cheerleaders.

~They only have an influence if you let them in- This one is tough. They are referring to "journalists" here, but I think they're missing something bigger. Journalists have a lot less power over lives than marketers and advertisers. Not to say they are negative, but their job is to convince people to buy crap that they don't need. That's their job, you can't be mad at them for doing it. Billboards, TV commercials, advertisements on the web and in the paper and magazines, articles people read---everything has an affect on people. You can't help but let them in. Don't hate on journalists for bringing you the information you want. I guarantee the creator of this post has no idea how much positive affect the media has had on him/her. They are probably completely unaware that because of journalism, the rapist that lived down the street was caught. The drug dealer around the corner is gone. The business he/she owns has clients and customers because of media. True, these are extreme examples, but let's all just chill out.

I am not saying that other professions aren't challenging. Law school is hard. Medical school is hard. Hospitality management is a huge challenge. But journalism is it's own kind of OMGTHISISHARD. The amount work and dedication and time put into this career is often overlooked. I think it's time for some of us to stand up and show those Urban Dictionary haters what's up.

I did not grow up.

I was raised.

I say yes ma'am, no sir, please, and thank you. I shake hands with someone when I meet them. I bow my head and fold my hands when I pray before my meal. I place my hand over my heart during the Pledge of Allegiance. I offer my seat to the elderly and mothers holding their children.

I was raised.

If I'm asked to do a job, I do it. And I do it to the best of my ability. I make my share of mistakes, but I own up to them. I learn to do things on my own so I do not have to depend on others. I do not expect to be given anything; I work for what I have.

I was raised.

I trust people until I am given a reason not to. I see the good in everyone, even when most people only see the bad. I give second chances, even though sometimes I shouldn't. I never make a promise that I cannot keep.

I was raised.

The choices I make are not based on what other people think. My beliefs are not based on what other people say. My values are not based on how the world has changed. My choices, my beliefs and my values are based on the way I was raised.

I was raised to be strong, independent, smart (street and book), modest, hard-working, trustworthy and self-confident.

But sometimes:
I have moments of weakness. I need someone to help me. I make stupid decisions. I say and do things I know I shouldn't. I slack off. I don't tell the whole truth. I doubt myself.

Thanks to my mother and father, I'm able to get past the weakness and dependence and mistakes and let-downs and doubts. I'm able to pick myself up, dust myself off and continue on with my head held high.

I did not just grow up, I was raised.


I miss you, Daddy.
10.07.2008 <3

Reality Check.

Pain is such a complicated feeling.

As humans, we feel pain in so many ways. We feel physical pain, we feel emotional pain. Sometimes we feel it when we're happy, we always feel it when we're sad. It doesn't get better with age, it doesn't make any more sense as we become more wise.

I think the pain that hurts the worst is when your heart breaks, but the tears don't fall. It's like your brain is trying to tell you that you should have expected it. Part of you was expecting it all along. Now that the pain has finally made its way to your heart, your brain has moved on. You would give anything to cry, make the pain go away, but you can't.

I am smart. My father always told me, my mother always told me, my friends always told me.

I know I'm smart, but I also know that I make a lot of stupid decisions. My problem is that, all too often, I think with my heart. Sometimes that's a good thing, but often it is quite the opposite.

Tonight, my heart hurts. I have let my heart lead me down a path that I knew would not end well. As I sit on my couch and dwell on fond memories and feelings, the tears have finally started flowing. Not because my heart hurts, but because I realize the stupid decisions I have made in following my heart and not my brain. I let my heart believe something that my brain knew was wrong.

Pain is such a complicated feeling.

I can count on two hands the number of people that I love. People that I truly love, that truly love me.

I don't mean "love".
I don't mean they tell me things they think will make me feel good because they want to feel good.
I don't mean they say "I love you" because that's what they're supposed to say.
I don't mean they shell out empty promises to me.

The people I love (and that love me) promise the world, and they mean it.
They tell me they love me because how they really feel can't be expressed in words.
They tell me things that they think will make me feel better, only because they want to be there in my time of need.
Those are the people I love.

Sadly, I can count them on two hands.

Like I said before, I think my brain was just waiting for this moment. It knew all along. It tried to show me the signs, but my heart blew it off. It tried to warn me, but my heart ignored it. Now it's telling my heart "I told you so", and my heart is feeling the pain.

I have let my heart believe this lie for far too long. It will be so hard to convince my heart that it is untrue, to convince my heart to move on. But I will try. Fortunately, those people that I can count on two hands will be there for me.

My heart and my brain deserve better. Now I just have to wait for better to come along. ...And I need to buy a new communication system for my brain and my heart: they are going to have to start communicating better before the other organs start a riot.

Quirks.

I don't know who actually reads what I post, so if you care...here's a little bit you might not know about me.

*I am 21 years old. My mental (maturity) age is about 7 and a half. My body's physical age is about 84. I watch cartoons while I use my heating pad.

*When I'm alone in the car with the radio on, I harmonize. And I'm pretty darn good at it! Don't judge me.

*I cry almost every time I see roadkill. Hunting doesn't bother me, but seeing those poor animals in the road just gets me.

*I gag when people touch me with their feet. I don't care if you have socks on. Don't touch me with your feet. And don't touch my feet.

*When I cook, I like to put music on and pretend I'm one of those people in the movies. You know, they dance and sing while they cook and they look cool...

*When I can't sleep, I turn on Pandora and listen to the "Ambient" station. That's all it takes; I pass out.

*I open my mouth really wide when I'm putting my eyeliner on. Apparently I also do it when I put my mascara on; but only on the bottom lashes. I don't know why.

*My index finger always migrates to the point of my nose when I'm thinking. When I'm thinking really hard, my fingers starts tapping.

*You can tell I'm tired when I forget what I was talking about 5 seconds ago. Or in the middle of a story.

*(Warning: TMI) Coffee makes me pee more than any other drink. Tea takes 2nd place. Alcohol takes 3rd.

*In the shower, I often get distracted by the wonderful hot water and forget if I washed my hair yet. So I'll wash it again.

*When my stomach growls at me, I talk back to it. If it keeps going, we usually have a conversation.

* I think out loud way too much. I get it from my mother. People probably think I'm a little bit schizophrenic.

*When stores send me coupons, I feel obligated to shop there. Especially when it's a really good deal. I wish they knew I couldn't afford it.

*If I had to, I could live solely off of sandwiches and watermelon. However, I would need a stove to cook my sandwich; I like my sandwiches "toasted".

*If I have something exciting to tell someone, I text them. But I don't tell them what's exciting, I just say "I have something exciting to tell you!" Then I make them wait.

*Way too often, when I get a text, I respond in my head and forget to actually text it back. I remember later when I wonder why they haven't texted ME back...

*I love the smell of campfire, pipes, cigars, windex, coffee, chapstick, new car, puppy breath, and my grandma's house.

*I hate the smell of chicken, excessive cologne, red beans and rice, onion, Fabuloso (cleaner), and cigarette smoke.

*When I'm having deep conversation and I'm about to make a point, I make a squinty face and shrug my shoulders. Then say "I don't know". (Thanks for pointing this out Brandon. I guess I should just make my point!)

*One of my favorite things in the world is waking up to a text message from someone I care about. It starts my day off wonderfully.

Well, that's all for now. Just a few random facts for you to laugh at. I have many quirks and love when people point them out to me. Don't be afraid to bring them up. ( but please be kind haha )

So what's your "type"?

I really don't like when people ask "so, what do you look for in a guy?" or "what's your type?".

First of all, I don't necessarily "look" for anything. But second of all, there's a standard answer that you'll get from any girl.

"Honest, good sense of humor, fun, outgoing, smart, hardworking, likes me for who I am..." blah. blah. blah! DUH That's what everyone wants in a significant other. So let's get a little more personal for a minute here.

When I was about 14, my Sunday School teacher told us we needed to make a list. We needed to list the qualities/standards we expect in a man and to never stray from them. I found my list recently. There are two sides.

Side One- "What I Want In A Guy":

Honest
Respectful of self and others
Confident
Believer
Worshiper
Loves children
Similar interests
Likes me for me
Compassionate
Smart
Loving
Trustworthy
Reliable
Fun
Enjoyable
Likes my family
Loves his family
Pure
Inner beauty
Compatible
Same beliefs/views

Side Two- "What I Don't Want In A Guy":

Disrespectful
Liar
Untrustworthy
Non-believer
Rude
Dislikes children
Dirty Mouth
Stuck up/self centered
No respect for my boundaries
Dislikes my family
Not family oriented
Know-it-all
Different interests
Cheater
Low self-esteem
Jealous

Though it's hard to say exactly what you want out of a relationship, I obviously knew myself pretty well because these are still applicable to my life. But when I look back at my past relationships, I can see where I strayed:

• The ones who don't find the time to text/call/talk to me. 

•  The ones who don't find the time to spend with me, take me on a date, show that he truly cares about me. 

•  The ones who think it's okay to disrespect me in any way. 

•  The ones who complain about spending money on me. I don't ask for things, I don't expect him to buy me anything. But an occasional date (movie, dinner, day at the museum) shouldn't be a burden on him. 

•  The ones who are jealous. Jealousy is not attractive. I have MANY male friends because that's how I grew up. Boys don't bring drama, they don't bicker about petty things, they are enjoyable. If a guy is jealous of my friendships and can't trust me, it's a no-go. 

•  The ones who like to only call/text late at night. We all know what that means. You're not getting anything from me. 

•  The ones who objectify women. Talking about me (or any girls, for that matter) as if I'm some kind of object is not something that I admire. 

One day, a handsome man in his Tony Llamas with an appropriate amount of facial hair will ride up in his beautiful Dodge listening to Jason Aldean and will proceed to sweep me off my feet as we drive through the country and gaze at the stars. BUT, until that dream comes true, I'm just going to enjoy my life. I'm going to listen to the 14-year-old Allison. She knew what she was talking about.

And the challenge begins.