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Thursday, February 28, 2013

Broken Bridges

I've thought about my daddy a lot lately.  I miss him.  I wish he were here to talk to.  People say that time heals the pain but not when you lose someone.  Time is only a reminder that they are missing your life.  I can't call daddy up and tell him about the boys games or jokes.  I still have so much guilt that I wrote him off.  His addictions were a burden to me.  I didn't want anything to do with it.  My grandparents raised me and my grandfather was my "daddy".  Daddy was second.  I loved him.  I waited for him.  He made me promises he never kept.  He loved me so much though.  I could see the adoration in his eyes when he'd squeeze me tight.  He always bragged on me.  He would get mad and call me a snob but I was.  I wasn't accepting of what he was doing.  I didn't mean to be that way.  It was may way of coping with it all.  I had sort of prepared myself for the call.  I knew it was coming sooner than later.  The day I got the call I went in to preparation mode.  I didn't stop to grieve.  I left for Slidell, LA immediately and began to help make arrangements.  That night I wrote my father's eulogy.  I picked out the song "Broken Bridges" by Toby Keith.  It wasn't until I saw that man in the casket that they said was my daddy that it hit me.  It hit me like the weight of the world.  I never told him that I loved him as much as I did.  I never told him that he hurt me.  I never hugged him tight like I never wanted to let go.  At that moment I realized that I never could.  My tears flowed endlessly and I screamed that's not my daddy. It was hard to speak my way through the eulogy and everyone cried but I made it.  I realized that addiction is a disease and my daddy struggled with it.  I know that he had a faith in God and I comfort myself thinking that somehow God has made him better somehow.  He doesn't have to take a pill to swallow the pain now.  He doesn't have to try and impress me or anyone else.  I miss his big heart and big smile.  I hate that my boys wont grow up knowing him.  I live with the guilt.  I learned to never let a day go by without telling those that you care about how much you love them.  So what are you waiting for?

Broken Bridges  - the Song for my daddy and I

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Song Stamp

Don't you love that feeling when a song takes you back to some great moment in your life? It never ceases to make me smile when I hear the Gin Blossoms.  It never ceases to make me cry when I hear "The Reason" by Hoobastank.  This is why I want to stamp my favorite memories with songs.  I want to always have that trigger to surprise me at just the right moments.  Tonight I was driving down Highway 51 with my sunroof open (the tanning bed had me hot) and I was singing "If it makes you happy" at the top of my lungs and my right hand waving out of the sunroof! Lame? Heck Yes. Fun? Absolutely. Necessary? Whatever. It was a moment where nothing else existed but the memory of my little sister and I driving around in my new car after graduation and singing this song repeatedly because we were AWESOME. Think about "song stamping" the next best thing that happens to you and tell me how it makes you feel 10 years down the road when you hear that song again.  You're Welcome.

Monday, February 25, 2013

My relationship with The Man in the Moon

I want to share with you the story behind "The Man in the Moon".  When I was a young girl I had this beautiful cedar daybed that was placed so perfectly in front of a very large window taking up an entire wall of my bedroom.  I would sit there every night staring at the moon and the stars.  Like any bright eyed dreamer I'd make wishes on shooting stars, count lightning bugs, and gaze up at the moon.  My grandparents adopted and raised me. For that I'm very thankful.  My grandmother retired when I was around 8-9 years old and for her retirement gift they bought her a telescope.  She had no desire to use it but I was extremely excited to welcome this fascinating treasure to my bedroom.  That night I looked up at the moon and it was no longer so far away.  That night I discovered the face in the moon.  The man.  I could see him up close and I could see him from far away.  No matter what, he was there.  A constant friend.  I was raised in church as most Southern girls are.  I had a relationship with God but as a child that intimacy had not developed.  I prayed every night and then I would share my day with "The Man in the Moon".  I talked to him like a friend.  He listened and he didn't interrupt.  I cried and vented until I fell asleep and he would blanket me with his light.  He would lend his ear with no reserve and for that I was thankful.  It wasn't until I got older that I realized it was my way of talking to God without feeling the need to use such formal words.  I didn't know we didn't have to speak to him with certain dialect.  It was OK to talk to God like you were talking to your mother, friend, or stranger.  God knew and he listened.  God also had one up on the Man in the Moon...he didn't go away when the skies were cloudy.  He was a constant.  I now share everything with him but I must admit...I still look to the moon whenever I see him.  I know deep down who the "Man" is but it's nice to talk to an old friend every once in a while.  After all he was there when my first pet died.  He listened while I told him how sad I was when my best friend moved.  He looked on while I gloated about my first kiss.  He even saw it and kept the whole thing a secret.  He was there when I fell in love.  I'd like to think he looked away when I lost my innocence that November night in my grandfather's cotton field. He hugged me with his light when my heart was broken time and time again.  He lit the way for the gentleman that threw rocks at my window.  He was and I guess will always be the diary that I never really kept.  No need to lock him away or hold on to some small key.  He'll never tell. 

Sunday, February 24, 2013


I try not to reflect on painful memories. I mean who wants to relive them? However, they are on my mind this morning.  They make me so weary.  I fight back tears even considering the option to blog about those feelings but I must.  You see pain has this way of transitioning us into different people.  We cant reverse the effects we can only welcome new changes.  I think that is why we settle and become content.  The pain is often too unbearable that we'd rather stay right where we are than continue to grow.  The beginning and the end results of these tragedies are amazing.  Its the middle that hurts.  I remember feeling like nothing in the world existed but love and passion.  I woke every morning to beautiful texts, calls or kisses.  I danced to the bathroom mirror to begin my beauty regimen while smiling the entire time.  Do you know how difficult it is to put mascara on while grinning from ear to ear? Lets just say I had to allow myself an additional hour every morning.  My days were filled with distracting messages, lunch dates, dinner dates, calls, flowers etc. I felt beautiful and alive. In my mind I was creating this fairytale you see because most of those texts, calls and kisses were initiated by "Moi".  Yep, it was an ordinary relationship and I had labeled it the "Love of my Life" and I was certain this time many before was "It".  Bear in mind we are probably only like a week in at this point.  Two months later I'm sobbing hysterically and asking myself why it wasn't real.  The fact is the guy didn't do anything wrong...other than breathe and use charming words....that's neither here nor there.  I had built him up in my mind to be a combination of the men in every love story I had ever watched or read.  When he didn't live up to those expectations...I was broken.  He never promised to be the "Noah" to my "Allie" or the "Romeo" to my "Juliet".  He just wanted to date me and see where it went.  I had already mapped it out though...he just didn't know how to follow directions....dumb boy.  Anyway! I've come to realize its true.  People don't let us down.  Our expectations of them let us down.  The problem here is that I'm a dreamer.  A hopeless Romantic.  EVERYONE is going to let me down at some point.  I have to deal with this tragic realization internally.  This is awful.  My life is going to always be this way.  Every May I dream of getting " A daisy a day for the month of May" (A romantic idea I created in my mind).  Every date I go on should obviously end in a back to the wall kiss in the rain.  Everyday should be filled with that "cloud 9" giddy feeling. ITS NEVER GOING TO WHY?! Why can't it happen?  Someone wrote these books.  Someone wrote these lyrics.  Someone wrote this screenplay.  That is proof that some people think this way.  Why can't we naturally be paired with those people? Would we throw the world off rotation? Would some major catastrophe result from this? 

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Tricky Heart

Sometimes our hearts are thirsty. There is a need within it to feel emotions that we seem to have left in our past. It's in those rare moments that someone walks into our life with similar needs and we begin to converse. Our hearts continue to whisper words of "fate" and "destiny" to our mind in hopes that it too will jump on this opportunity. You see the heart is a selfish creature and I've learned to outsmart it over the years. Call me jaded? Maybe. I know that euphoric feeling is only temporary. I'm a simple girl with honest words. Nothing special and rare. I'm OK with that. We build these fairy tales inside and when we get weary we quickly cast people into the roles hoping they will live up to our impossible expectations. The greater the love...the greater the tragedy when it's over. This is precisely why two dreamers can't coexist. Oh but you know greatest fear is living with "what if". It taunts me with it's reverse psychology. Tricky heart. I am no fool.

Who am I?

I'm contradicting almost always. It's who I am. I write. I dream. I'm full of passion and gumption. I'm a bit mouthy at times. I wish I were the quiet and reserved Southern Belle. I'm a mess yet I'm charming. It's not intentional. It's who I am. I find beauty in lessons learned. I'm cultivated in sorrow and fairy tales hence the fact that I'm jaded. I smile on the outside and laugh through my tears so you can't hear my screams inside. I move on but never forget the path that led me here. You consider me a muse or maybe even a catalyst. I'm full of wisdom but many will never know until I'm long gone. When the words of my journals play the song of my life. The Man in the Moon will smile and say "I knew her"