It’s that time of year again! You know, when you have to turn the light on before walking in the room to make sure there are no cockroaches around. I’m in Florida, and they are everywhere. When it rains (which seems like most days lately) they find shelter inside our house. Yuck.
Now, I am not a violent person and I love animals. Even snakes and frogs and lizards and geckos. And butterflies and roly polies. But there is one creature I cannot deal with and I cannot love: cockroaches. They are big and gross and get caught in my hair when they fly (which turns me into a gymnast/dancer/contortionist). I just can’t handle it. So, when they’re inside, they are in serious danger.
When Tate’s around, I have him dispose of them. I usually have to see the body, though, because he’s notorious for telling me he killed them when he didn’t. He knows when I scream, it’s not because there’s a person in the house; it’s because there’s a roach in the house.
When he isn’t around, I kill them myself (screaming like a banshee the entire time) and then leave whatever shoe I used on top of it so the furbabies don’t play with it before Tate can get rid of it. Frank is notorious for rubbing himself in dead bugs. And Dutchie just likes to bat them around the house. So. Gross.
No joke, one time I needed a shower but there was this massive roach in the tub, hiding behind the shampoo bottles. I drove ten minutes (both ways) to pick up my mom, brought her to my house so that she could kill it and get rid of it, and then took her back home. A total of an hour spent just to kill a roach. That’s how bad it is.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever actually become an adult.
When it comes to my taste in books, it’s either Harry Potter, LOTR-type fantastical or super girly, super cheesy “chick-lit” (as in chick literature…clever, right?). There really is no in between.
So, when I went to the library yesterday and found myself in the love story section, I had to stop for a look around. Then I came across an author I really like, Sophie Kinsella, and discovered one of her books that I’ve never read, I’ve Got Your Number, and I had to get it. It’s about as cheesy a love story as they come, so it’s perfect.
I recently found myself asking this question, and it didn’t take me long to find the answer.
I am a homebody. And an introvert (are they one in the same?), and socially awkward as hell. It’s a vicious cycle, too. The more time I spend alone (which is, like, my fav), the less practice I have dealing with people. But every time I’m around people I make a fool of myself, which makes me never want to show my face in public again.
Not only that, but I am terrible about remembering things. Me: “I’ll find out and text you back.” My brain: “Hahaha, she thinks she’s going to remember!” Then, a month goes by and I’m like “aw crap, I totally forgot.” Then I am so embarrassed and anxious about how the person hates me that I just don’t do it at all.
It’s been over a year since I last posted here. I am just the worst at blogging. Well, at sticking with anything, really. I guess it’s a good sign I haven’t deleted this, though. That’s what usually happens. There is a mass grave full of my half-assed attempts at blogging. I start them, post religiously for a little while and then boom! One day I wake up and I just don’t care about it anymore. Then I get angry at myself and delete everything.
I think this stems from my childhood, but I can’t be sure. Growing up, I never had anyone to push me to try harder, or to keep practicing, or to not just give up. I’m not blaming anyone for this; everyone in my life has been dealt a pretty crappy hand. Well, almost everyone.
So, here’s the deal. I’m not going to give up on this. I have decided that I want to write my memoirs, and this is the only real “journal” I’ve ever kept. All of my other blogs have been about specific aspects of my personality; my opinions, politics, current events, etc. But this blog is about me and my life.
Welp, today is my 26th birthday. I have to face the fact that I am no longer in my early 20’s. I guess age is just a number, really, so I shouldn’t be worried about it. I always feel a bit better when older people tell me “oh, you’re still just a baby!” or “man, to be 26 again…” I’m usually not a fan of comments like that, but they keep me young in this case.
Tate and I spent the weekend at his aunt’s beach house. My brother, sister-in-law, niece and nephew spent the day with us there yesterday. It was a good day. I actually got in the water and swam! That’s not usually my cup of tea, but like Tate says, Beach Hillary is more adventurous than Regular Hillary.
Tate tried to buy me a surprise gift that I would get when we got home, but he bought it through Amazon not realizing I had set up text notifications. I don’t know when I did that or why I would set them up for his account instead of mine, but it happened. I got the first text message on Saturday.
When I saw it pop up on my phone I thought it was a mistake. I was like, “wait, I didn’t buy the box set of Harry Po-ohhhhh! Birthday present!!” Poor Tate can’t win when it comes to surprising me with gifts. I tend to find out what they are before I get them. Sometimes accidentally. Usually on purpose because I’m terrible. Either way, I am now halfway through Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. This will make around the 10th time I’ve read the series, but I am so pumped to read them all again!
There was a time, not that long ago, where I could get rip-roarin’ drunk and get up early and go to work the next day. It sucked, but I managed. Hell, sometimes I’d get off work and start the whole process over again.
That time is gone. I’ll be 26 next Monday, and I think I am out of my drinking prime. I’ve uttered the words never again in reference to drinking a couple thousand times in my life, but I think I actually may have meant it yesterday morning.
Tate had a soccer game tonight. He plays for a local B league on Thursday nights. Sometimes I attend them and other times I can’t or don’t. Today was the latter. I fell asleep almost immediately when I got home, so instead of fighting with me to wake me up, he just went on alone.
This post is in response to the writing prompt, Snapshot Stories, from The Daily Post. The prompt says to open one of your photo albums and tell the story of the first picture you find of yourself. Luckily, the first picture in my album isn’t a horrible one.
Tate and I have very different backgrounds. Growing up, his mother was (and still is) very religious. His dad is a Christian, but he doesn’t talk about it much. Because of his mom, religion was a big part of his childhood. When he ended up at the Christian private school where we met, the rules in school weren’t so different from the rules at home.
My parents were a little bit different. My mom is somewhat of a hippie and my dad is a Southern Baptist. Their story is very long, though, so I’ll just stick with mine. My household wasn’t very religious growing up. I knew that my uncle’s talked about the Bible a lot when discussing women, and that they preached the most when they were drunk, but that was all my dad’s family. My mom and her family didn’t discuss religion very much.
It’s said that it isn’t Mondays that suck, it’s your job and/or life. I happen to like my job and my life, though, so I think this Monday just sucked. Everything was going fine until I took the exit off I-95 to get to my job.
I have finally returned after a (not-so) brief and unplanned hiatus. I am really not sure what happened exactly that caused me to abandon this blog for so many months, but something did. I am kind of proud of myself for coming back, instead of the usual *delete, start anew* that I do.
A lot has happened in the months that I have been gone. We have seen good times and bad, but luckily more good. I have realized I’m old, but I’ve also discovered the goodness that is Chamomille tea (the scent of which reminds me of North Carolina for some reason) and honey. Mmm…
Duchess, like most cats, likes to catch lizards. She also likes to catch snails, worms and snakes, but lizards are the ones that I save from her the most. I see myself as a kind of “Defender of Innocent Creatures”, or something like that. I try to protect all of them, but I can’t watch her all the time.
I know that most of my posts seem too happy, or too “perfect”, and I promise I’m not exaggerating the love and respect we have for each other. However, I thought it is only fair to let you all in on what we don’t necessarily love about each other and how we deal with those things.
I really wanted to write this and publish it on Sunday, but my days got away from me and then I just got lazy. Also, I tried to add a couple of pictures, but for some reason I could not. It’s okay, though, because I was so shaky from the cold that they were totally blurry. Just imagine a bunch of hot soccer players lined up and you’ve got it. Anyway, here it is!
If you read my last post, you will know that I was going to a soccer (or football, for the rest of the world) game on Saturday. I am happy to announce that I actually did go through with it, and that it actually wasn’t quite as bad as I had thought it was going to be. Shocking, right?
The other day I was informed by Tate that this Saturday our city’s new soccer team would play their very first home game. Tate is a huge soccer fan, and I know how excited he is about the fact that he finally has a local team to cheer for, but I am not so zealous. When he asked me if I wanted to go, I gave a very non-committal “ehh…” He responded with, “don’t you want to witness history?”
I’m going to be honest here; I am not good at finding the best in myself. Because of that, it is hard to praise myself for anything. Again, Tate has helped me quite a lot in this respect because he not only tells me every day what he loves about me, but he is also so confident in himself that it is infectious. So, when I told him about these two posts, I asked him what he thought I brought to the relationship that makes it better. If I were to answer that, I would say that I have taught Tate how to empathize. He has never been mean or hurtful, but when I first met him he did struggle with putting himself in other’s shoes. Now, that is the first thing that he does when thinking of others.
One of the reasons that I love Tate so much (there are many), is his sense of humor and how laid back he is. He turns everything into a joke and doesn’t stress about anything. This isn’t a bad thing, though. Some people who turn everything into a joke or brush things off don’t accomplish anything. The reason they turn it into a joke is so that people will stop bothering them already and let them off the hook. Not Tate. He gets things done, he just doesn’t freak out when things don’t go his way. Instead, he finds another way. I’ve learned a lot from him.
I am a firm believer of the Golden Rule; do unto others what you would have done to you (or something like that, I’m paraphrasing. You get the idea…) I generally try to treat others how I would like to be treated, especially when it comes to Tate. He and I have a lot of respect for each other, and we try to let each other know that as often as possible.
I am currently doing the Blogging 101 course through The Daily Post and today’s assignment is to identify my dream audience. This is difficult for me because I’ve never really thought about who my dream audience is. I guess I would have to say that my target audience would be anyone who is just starting out, whether alone or with someone else, but especially couples who are in serious relationships.
I never ever want to assume that Tate and I are an example of a perfect relationship, because I know that those don’t exist. He and I have our fair share of problems, but I think what sets us apart from most is how we handle those problems.
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