100

This post marks a special milestone for me. Number 100. Just last week when I finished my 99th post I got my 100th like on here too. In the near two years I’ve had this blog, I’ve come a long way. I have y’all to thank.

I started here just writing to vent. It served as an escape from reality when it was desperately needed. The moments when I had no one to go to. The times when my heart hurt the most. This virtual world of words and feelings and thoughts and experiences saved me.

I never thought writing would become so essential to my sanity. Yet, when I look back, I don’t ever see it as not a part of my life. My journals have always been my way to unwind. Ever since the sixth grade and when adolescence was just beginning. Like everyone else’s, my tween years were a scarring, dramatic, and life-changing period of my life. I went from a flat-chested, buck-toothed girl to a brace-faced budding teen in a matter of a few years. Hormones were raging, we weren’t used to the change. I had a really hard time transitioning from private to public school and my way to deal was writing.

In college writing became more of a career path than a hobby. I was 18 and had to decide how I wanted to spend the rest of my life? What did I know? Pictures and words. I studied photojournalism and got an internship at a magazine. Three years later, I still shoot and write from them. And I love it.

I love speaking my mind, or researching something new in town, or writing a review on a band. I love covering all genres of writing from reporting, to creative, even some poetry now and then. Give me a pen and paper, and I could go on for days.

I love what I do and that’s all I can be proud of.

To anyone and everyone, friend, family, or stranger, I thank you for all your support, your likes, your comments. Your support means the world.

Going the Distance

When there’s 511 miles separating you from the person you love, how do you deal? Welcome to my world of the long distance relationship.

Being a 20s something, I’ve never been in a LDR. I grew up in Austin, dated Austin boys, and didn’t travel enough to meet someone in another city.

I’ve never done this before; the closest thing to long distance I’ve done was staying with The Ex when I studied in Paris for a summer. Six weeks wasn’t hard to wait.

But in my current relationship, it’s full on long distance. I have no idea what I’m doing. There’s a certain comfort in our LDR; sparks are always flying, and it always seems new and exciting. I look forward to each time we see each other.

He lives in New Orleans, an eight-hour drive which is reasonable every few weeks. I’m not concerned about the distance, I’m worried about the time. The time spent apart. It hasn’t even been a month since we last saw each other and I’m antsy.

Since we started this romance back in February, it’s been easy to manage. I go there, then he comes here. And on and on and on. But eventually there will a time when one of us will have to make a decision. If we really, truly want to be together, someone has to move. And with the start of his new business, it looks like that someone is going to be me.

Don’t get me wrong, I love New Orleans. It’s one of my favorite places to be.  But I also love my city. My home. My family and friends and lifestyle here. To just let that all go and start over in a new place is terrifying. Will it be worth it? Is it a smart choice to move somewhere for love? Will I like it there? What will happen? So many what if’s and worries. It scares me.

But at the same time it excites me. A clean slate, and I get to be with the person I love. New opportunities. New friends, new career,  new life. No one said it would be easy. Relationships take a lot of effort on both sides and when you throw in distance, it makes things a lot more difficult. Difficult, but not impossible.

It’s such a big decision, and I’m not sure when to make it.

My Strange Addiction: Sideburns

If there’s one specifically strange thing about myself, it’s my love for sideburns. I am OBSESSED.

I love all types, I don’t discriminate; perfectly trimmed sideburns, Confederate army general sideburns, mutton chops, Elvis Presley, that guy from X men, you name it. I love it. When that song Bedrock came out featuring Nicki Minaj, it became my anthem. Maybe it’s time to put this pussy on your sideburns. You’re damn right, Nicki. You’re damn right.

 I’m not really sure how this obsession came to be. When I was 15 I had the biggest crush on my friend Shelton. He was tall and Greek looking, with thick eyebrows and sideburns. He was literally my dream guy. Unfortunately for me, I never had the opportunity to date him. I just watched his sexy self from afar. Longing like the little tween I was.

In college, I was introduced to a guy via my close friend, and I fell in love at first sight. The ex. The one that (temporarily) ruined my outlook on love.  He was literal perfection. Dark hair, dark skin, and big ol’ sideburns. everything I ever wanted in a counterpart. For weeks I made every attempt to run into somewhere, hoping our group of mutual friends would converge and bring him around. And when that day finally came, I made it a point to never let this guy out of my sight. He grew out some mutton chops for me once and it literally made me giddy.

I’m very particular about my facial hair love. Mustaches freak me the fuck out. Goatees are for freaks. I run at the sight of a soul patch. My boyfriend has a beard right now, and I can deal. But it will always be Team Sideburns for ever.