Lemons to Lemonade

Oh bloggity blog! I've missed you! I almost feel like a traitor....stepping onto unknown territory and sneaking back into your life. I've been gone for oh so long! AND after just spending an hour reading some of my previous posts....I can assure you that I'm back for the better. No wonder all my blog readers put their own blogs on hiatus. I wouldn't be surprised if they all slit their wrists in the bathtub. I was just plain depressing. Pretty gross. BUT some good things can come from such a state of depression. I lost 15 pounds earlier this year. And did some emo choreography for one of my high school dancers who won first overall at a dance team competition. If my little heart would have been fluttering with butterflies, I could never have choreographed to "Walking on Air." Or made her put huge black circles under her eyes and wear ripped fishnets. For blogging sake, I'll try and stay in touch with my inner artist (cough cough) but have a happy heart at the same time.

Fact

Bobby needs a man bag.

You're So Vain

On Tuesday night while I was teaching my competitive Showgroup team, I noticed pen marks on a couple of the girls left wrist. I grabbed one of their arms and was shocked to see the word "Love" written (in cursive) on their wrist. I looked at the other one's wrist....same thing. For those of you who know me....you get why this is comical. Or not comical. What kind of screwed up role model am I? One of them said, "Yeah we told our mom's that until they let us get one...we will keep writing it on our wrist every single day." I'm surprised a "parent/teacher meeting" hasn't yet been requested.

You probably think this blog is about you.

Crash

If you know me, you will love and understand this blog. If you don't...then get off my site and go play video games.

My dad once told me a story about how he broke his nose when he was younger. He was walking along, happily, minding his own business...perfectly content. He then noticed a pretty girl walking on the opposite side of the street. He kept walking and looking. And then BAM!!!!!!!!! He crashed right into a pole. It broke his nose, and I assume his pride as well.

I immediately think of this scenario (metaphorically of course) when I think about love and relationships. Cruise control on, happiness level up, butterflies taken their rightful spot in your tummy.........and then BAM. The car crashes, your happy meter plummits, and those butterflies fly south for the winter. I would assume that the only way to keep from "breaking your nose" would be to keep one arm up, look straight ahead, and mentally prepare for that pole. Because when you don't, you'll need weeks of recovery. From now on, I'm putting on my blinders.

Late Fees

I've always tried to pride myself on being an open book. Even my Chinese placemat animal horoscope says I'm honest to a fault. I wear my emotions on my face and in my voice. You can tell everything I'm thinking in my tone. I wish more people were like this. The way people have been lately is making me wish we were all little books in a library...
That way I could open you up, see what you're all about, and then proceed to check you out if things look bright. If not, I'd reshelve you.

Do you know me?

Twenty Ten

We're only a little over a week into it, and this year has already proven to be an improvement from the last one. First of all, I don't think I've cried once all year...WOOHOO!!!

I have a weird superstitious thing going on with odd numbers. I don't like them. Things always go wrong for me on odd numbered days. 11-13-09...I think we all know this story by now. And if you don't know it...don't ask. My traumatizing heart and almost-healed foot need no reminding.

I believe I've traced the reason for my harsh feelings towards these numbers and I think it goes back to the first day of my life. I was born on 12/14/84 at exactly 4:00 p.m. This pretty much set the tone for my life. So it's no wonder that 2009 kicked my ass.

Hellllooooo 2010. 12 months of bliss.

Happy New Year!!!

(210) 771-0974

I'm pretty certain that this blog address is taylorball.blogspot.com. I'm also pretty confident that I was fortunate to be named Taylor Ball. And since this is MY blog, I am assuming this falls under the freedom of speech category. I would hope so....because if it doesn't, I'm fucked.

I've always had a little following of people who read this. And although I love you Mom, Janna, Kendall, Laura, and others...I don't do it for you. I do it to release whatever shit I am harboring at the time. So far it has proven to be pretty effective at getting those feelings out of my body and into space. Or your computer screen.

But in the past few days, I have become un-blissfully aware that I have some readers with ill intentions. Both of which felt the need to send me a lengthy message to my Facebook account. I really don't fucking get it. Facebook? Have you people never heard of picking up the phone? Especially you dad...my phone number has been the same since 2004. It's not going anywhere. In fact, I will post it on here so that there is no confusion. Next time you feel like bitching your daughter out on a SOCIAL NETWORKING SITE....think again. Because on Saturday, I was at a bar with friends, and you did nothing to effect me. Except maybe that I ordered another drink and toasted to you hating me. I was called selfish, heartless, cold, and spoiled in your psychotic rant. You know what? Maybe you're right. In fact, you are. I will agree with you on each insult:

1) Selfish: I spent hundreds of dollars on Christmas presents this year (don't hold your breath for yours to arrive anytime soon by the way) and while in the midst of shopping for my wonderful family I stopped by JCrew and spent 10 dollars on a metallic coin purse. I am so selfish I can hardly look at myself.

2) Heartless: I basically give the veteran at the intersection of 1604 and Bandera 3 bucks every time I see him. I tell him Jesus loves him. I'm so heartless I can barely sleep at night.

3) Cold: I am bitter, angry and mad all the time. No one wants to spend time with me. I have no friends. My family hates me. I've been exiled from the city limits. Get real.

4) Spoiled: That man on the corner? There are many days he makes more than I do. I don't have a daddy who will pay for my 4 years at a University...much less send me a check on my birthday. I'm so spoiled I drive a new Camaro, I have diamonds dripping from my neck, and I just recently bought a condo in Alamo Heights. I also plan on taking a cruise around the world. Get. A. Clue. You are pretty much preaching to the choir with that one Mr. 14 televisions in one house...Mr. I have 4 cars and have taken an equal number away from my children, my flesh and blood.

Let me just tell you....Everyone's caught on to everything you do.

The other person I discussed will remain nameless. The only purpose for this unnecessary act of kindness is because I adore your boyfriend. He is not my friend, he is my family. And it's not worth it. I'm not interested in your dude. I'm not interested in your drama. I just happen to have a 20 year history with him that I'm not prepared to lose. As you can see in the above paragraphs, I have enough shit to worry about in my life right now and really don't want to have to ask my doctor for anxiety pills. Go in peace.

Final Note to Above Recipients: I really don't want to have to change this web address. I don't deal well with sudden 180's. Don't hold my writing against me. It will never work.

Ring Leader

I am a circus member. Specifically the one whose job title is "Juggler." I have so many balls up in the air right now. One is bound to fall. Which I'd be okay with because honestly I'm getting a little tired.

Breathe in, breathe out.

BCBG stockholders...if you're reading this, you should probably just sign over the entire Fall 2009 line straight over to me. I can assure you that no one could, would, or ever should wear it or appreciate it more than yours truly.

I drank two Sonic drinks last night that consisted of 53% alcohol and 47% fruit content. Then we skipped 7th period and missed band run though.

Plug

One of my best friends and a woman of my own heart, Janna Joseph, has fallen so deeply in love with my blog lifestyle that she sought to make one of her own. And it's uh.maze.ing. I'm like a proud mama. Follow her blog for what promises to be just as, if not more cynical than the very one you are reading now. I love most of you. And I hope some of you slip on ice.

http://feverishfluidity.blogspot.com

-T