(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

Change of Plans

Wait WHAT? There's already a song called "Lying Eyes"...?! Damn, that's what I named the first song I wrote!

Shit...what to do, what to do? Changing to "You Said You Wouldn't Get Bored" or "What Happened to Traveling?" Also considering "Indian Style on the Driveway was a Waste of Time" or "Eskimo Kisses in Bars."

Anyways, I am assuming it will still hit the top of the Billboard Charts....no matter what name I unlovingly give it.

Vintage

1) I have never seen one single episode of The Simpsons. Not one. We weren't allowed to watch it growing up, and I guess the habit stuck. People usually freak when I tell them this. I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything.

2) I have had baby fever for the past decade.

3) I had a fainting spell in Petsmart 2 months ago. Someone brought in a python. I no longer purchase Haleigh's food there.

4) If you know me then you know my obsession with Jon and Kate plus 8. It's indescribable. Weird? Yes. Controllable? No.

5) I <3 wine. Mostly Reislings but I don't discriminate. There are some meals that I HAVE to have it with. Like chicken salad sandwhiches.

6) I have true love for all the girls I teach at the dance studio. But sometimes I just want to shake their little heads though and say..."If you only knew what I know now!!" They are precious.

7) I'm unlike a lot of people because I loved high school so much. I made the best memories and lifelong friends. I wouldn't have traded it for the world.

8) My best friend Jennifer thinks that everyone has some little weird thing about them. You know, OCD qualities. For example, she is addicted to The Sims. To the point of life separation. I went for a long while thinking that I had no weird qualities...which made me proud to be normal. She then informed me that the fact that I check perezhilton, tmz, people, and usmagazine.com umpteen times a day from my sidekick could possibly be my "weird thing".

9) If I could pick anywhere in the world to live, I would be in NYC. No question.

10) I can't imagine loving anything more than I love my dog, Haleigh.

11) I can't stand Oprah. But not in a hatred way...more like an "I'll just ignore you and change the channel" type of way.

12) My middle name is Jeanne, (like Jean) after my grandmother. Sometimes I scare my granddaddy because he says I am an exact clone of her. The pictures of her in her 20s look just like me. But with good vintage clothes.

13) God is my rock. My life would be miserable and empty without knowing Him.

14) I became absolutely OBSESSED with the Caylee Anthony case. Much like I did with Elizabeth Smart...but this time was worse. I would stay up until 6 or 7 in the morning reading every piece of discovery that they released. I changed my major to criminal justice. Then came back to reality and changed it back.

15) I live in a pretty constant fear that my mom's cancer will come back.

16) I can only use medium point pens.

17) The guy at the nail salon calls me "black nail girl". Pretty self explanatory.

18) My dad doesn't give a shit about me. He hasn't for 6 years.

19) John Mayer is therapy like no other. He's been there for me when no other men were. lol

20) I get along WAY better with guys then I do with girls. I pretty much always have. And no bitches...this doesn't mean I love your boyfriend. It means I want to use him. Or shop with him. Or both.

21) I shop. Too much. No denying it anymore. Fact.

22) I quit my job of 4 years and have never been happier. But yes, I do realize that I will eventually have to work.

23) I want another tattoo. But don't feel like ever returning to the shade of white that my skin turned during my 1st one so I have held off.

24) I freak out in stressful situations. I am someone you DON'T want around during trauma. I'll get in the way, I'll cry, I'll just be annoying.

25) I prefer winter to summer...which contradicts the fact that I live in San Antonio. I live for scarves, hats, peacoats, coffee, and soup. I love it all.

An Open Letter

What I feel like telling all of those individuals who are in an unhappy, or semi-unhappy relationship based on habit, security, and guilt:

Dear Miserable in Milwaukee,

If you're not dying to throw them to the floor every chance you get...there's something wrong. Get. Out.

Sincerely,
Learned the Hard Way

Plug por mi hermano

My little brother is an amazingly talented photographer....and he jumped on the bandwagon and started a photo blog. Ch ch check it out.

http://photo9.tumblr.com/

Cumpleanos

Happy Birthday to yours truly....I am now (as Janna calls it) a quarter of a century old. Sick. So it seems as though this occasion called for a fiesta...which most of my friends attended. I had so much fun....reinforcing the fact that my friends are amazing and I would die without them. Having some friends in a band make it even better...it feels like home wherever we see them play. I got blitzed of course...but hey, it was my birthday.

If It Makes You Happy

Hello one, hello all. By the request of one internet stalker who shall not be named, I'm blogging. Are you happy now? I doubt you are.

So I finally decided to take the advice of a few of my friends and start writing lyrics. I've never really thought to do it, but I guess since I'm a little bit of a writer and a poetry fan...I might as well dabble. Dabble dabble dab. It's been interesting. I would post what I have so far on here...but knowing that there are people who dislike me in more ways than one who read this shit, I'd most likely hear my words belting from Carrie Underwood's mouth on KJ97 next July and then I'd have to blow some sort of gasket. I'm not one to sue so let's just dodge the bullet shall we?

I'm having a little bit of an issue with turning 25. It's not sitting well.

Please

More of my Christmas Wish List. Not that you care. Self-indulgent.

J. Crew Riding Boots. I curse the day Joanne showed them to me. Now I need. Them. Bad.

Coco

Dear Santa,

I want what she has.

Thanks,
TJB

Memoirs of a Rabbit

I will now attempt to transfer my memory of last night onto a computer screen using just my hands.

I decided to free myself of all "Taylor inhibitions" and make the journey to The White Rabbit with Jannnanaaaugh, whom I love. My pre-conceived notion was that I would be seeing a genre of music whom normally, I do NOT love. Having not taken JJ's advice to wear "jeans and a t-shirt," I set myself up for the worst, and expected the best.

WORSTS:

1) Got asked by the doorman if we were "over 21 or under 21." This would distinguish the color wristband we would be sporting for the night. You allow 18 year olds to roam your establishment? Oh God.

2) Where the F is the real alcohol?? Bar? Check. Beer? Check. Vodka? Negative. I sent a text along the lines of, "I'm not drunk enough for this."

3) Turns out my friend Janna is a pretty smart girl. She warned me not to wear heels. I then informed her that heels are a staple in all successful outfits. She told me I was stupid. After about an hour into the night, I told her she gave good advice.

4) People smelled.

5) Panties were thrown. Unsanitary.


BESTS:

1) The music as it turns out, was phenomenal. Where have I been this whole time? Oh yes, that's right...with John Mayer.

2) Sweaty purple shirt eye candy. Enough said.

3) I have two new names to follow on Twitter.

4) The night ended with a quesadilla and BJak. Holler.

Mind Eraser

The broken locks were a warning
You got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded
I'm an open book instead


Still managed to have fun on a Saturday night although my foot is not working at its full capacity. 4 drinks and the pain is forgotten. In more ways than one. How convenient.

I don't see how it is possible to have a better family than mine.

Happy that music exists.

Stomach Pain

I have stopped listening to words. They don't mean shit. I've become deaf. Actions are the only proof.

I got hired for a new choreography job. Actually, I've been asked to do 2 separate pieces. Thank God, something to throw myself into. Throw myself hard.

ow. hunched over.

Not True

Lately I have been finding anything and everything on Youtube to watch to turn my brain off. It works most of the time.

It's so amazing how our bodies react to our mental state of mind.
My stomach specifically.


Time time time time time.

Group of Fragments

I can't verbally complain. It was self-inflicted. As per usual.

Old friends are the best friends.
Bring me back to solid ground.
Remind me of who I am.
And most importantly who I'm not.

I just had the best conversation with the cashier from Books-A-Million. I might become a frequent visitor just to hang. He's gay, which naturally meant I loved him. He used the words. "hot mess," "dram," and "fabulous." LOVE.

Bam

Oh and the flooding of pain comes in.
Inevitable.
Owwww.
They don't make band-aids for this.

Is You

I have been hibernating in a fluff of pillows and jersey sheets the last couple of weeks. And now it is FALL! November came fast and I welcome it with open arms.

At two ends of the spectrum, people continue to both disappoint me and amaze me all in a day's work. I feel like I'm being rewarded with the amazing ones to make up for the disappointing ones. Make sense? I didn't think so.

Metaphorically Speaking

I sleep on my side. I have all my life...I think. Sometimes I will start out on one side and lay there for awhile, and then get uncomfortable. I'll still stay there, maybe out of laziness or something...or maybe out of habit. Anyways, when I finally switch sides (which requires me moving the pillow that I have been spooning...and sometimes my dog) it's like instantaneous relief. It's like, "How was I ever comfortable on that side? That side wasn't right for me at all. This side is."

Well, back to watching Bush music videos on YouTube. My life rocks.

Plural

Sugar and Spice to Me

If I had a voice, I would be like T. Swift and call out all the assholes of my past. Then I'd make a greatest hits record and put the greatest of all the assholes on there. I'd have a tie for second place.

Today I found Ralph Lauren pillowcases made out of shirt material and buttons. They don't match my bedding. I bought them anyway.

My sister got me a wireless card. God bless her sweet soul.

I love making new friends. I'm sure some of them will become ex-friends, but I'll enjoy it while it lasts.

I turned your picture to the wall.

The Gatsby put on Continuum last night. And kept it on.

No Substitute for Time

Lately I have been a little off. Okay that's an understatement. I have been away from the planet. Somewhere near Mars. To put it plainly I have been living for the weekends. I beg my life to fast forward during the week, then plead for it to pause on Friday night. Call it a scapegoat, call it turning a blind eye. But I need a release. Maybe I should resort to yoga instead of Malibu. Nah.

My Sidekick went off the deep end and decided to commit suicide. I'm using my mom's flip phone...and even though I appreciate her letting me use it, it takes me 45 seconds to type 2 words. Can't. Stand. It.

Oh the emotions.
I still wish you'd fought me til' your dying day.

For You

A very old, dear friend of mine deleted his Facebook account. By doing this I am assuming he thinks he is cool. This is a blog to explain why he's not. And why Facebook is awesome. And why he's stupid.

1) What other sites allow you to join groups called "When I was your age Pluto was a planet", "I like watching people fall", and "If 100,000 people join, my wife will let me name our son Spiderman?"

2) You can see what your best friend and your worst enemies are doing at every single moment of every single day. Status updates are the key to being a good stalker.

3) You can click to become a fan of Where The Wild Things Are. Enough said. You left too soon. I joined for you. You're Welcome.

4) How do you expect to get up to the minute details about your upcoming high school reunion. You need to be in the know.

5) You can find old friends. And in your case, very old friends. As in age.

Come back. We need you.

Venti

A Barista at Starbucks gave me a free coffee yesterday because he overheard me say I was depressed. I wasn't even serious. Okay that's a lie. I was. But anyway, he made my coffee, didn't charge me, and said have a nice day. I have NEVER gotten anything free from Starbucks. And of course I've never expected it. The sad thing is that's probably the been the best part of my week. I love that guy.

Good Luck

Oh the travesty I am experiencing. Here are some tokens of advice that you should most definitely NOT take....considering who it is coming from.

• Don't walk in the rain with long jeans on. This will cause a day of uncomfortableness.
• Girls, don't lose your inhibitions. And guys, don't be unnecessary douche bags. Don't act like you don't know. Yeah....you.
  
• Don't look through people's photo albums on Facebook that live in fun or exotic places. This will most likely leave you jealous of their whereabouts. Especially when they live in New York City.
• Check the coolant levels on your car. This is probably the most important. New engines cost more than two shiny new Louis Vuittons put together. Oh the agony.
  

Communism

I'm being FORCED against my will to write a journal entry about global warming for an English class. Those of you who know me in even the slightest way know that this topic annoys the SHIT out of me. Let's just put it out there:

-I don't care about global warming.
-I never have cared about global warming.
-I never will care about global warming.

Actually just typing the words "global warming" five times so far in this blog makes me want to slap myself for spending precious time blogging about this when I could be blogging about....other things. Like boots.

Disclaimer: I am not an expert in this field. I have never listened to Al Gore. Don't send me hate mail (not that I have a permanent address at this point anyway). I won't open. I won't respond. Although it might be nice to get some mail.

Glacial

Here comes the cold
Break out the winter clothes
And find a love to call your own

Love, obsessed, HAVE TO HAVE this coat.
Too bad it's the price of a car payment. If you've been an asshole to me lately and would like to repent, you can find it at anthropologie.com. It would be a great peace offering. Cut to two weeks from now....if I get taken seriously, I'll probably get 65 of these delivered. Which would be a-okay.

Does anyone else have the overwhelming sense of urgency to hug the person next to you and tell them everything will be okay? Okay maybe that's just my family.

Backwards

I spent 88 percent of the weekend in my bed. 10 percent ignoring sports,
and 2 percent being irrational. Wait, reverse that.

Be Still My Heart

NEW JOHN MAYER SINGLE ART.
ahhhhhhhhh
Counting down the days.

You're the Only Light I Ever Saw

Well hello there Fall! You're back!!! Which means usually my mood improves (not this year), my hair looks better (we'll see) and I bust out the cardigans (by default).

But most importantly this is the time of year where I welcome Mr. John Mayer back into my life. Always a permanent fixture mind you, he takes a little bit of a hiatus during the summer months. Never replaced of course....think of it as a short Caribbean vacation. I usually receive a "Someone who loves me went to Cozumel" t-shirt.

Everyone is pretty much aware of my psychotic obsession with his music. And today is the day I force myself to understand why.

I have so many wonderful, amazing, butterfly memories of my high school years. Filled with the best friends I could have ever asked for, not so much the best boys I could ever ask for, and maybe one that exceeded every expectation I had. Always an emotional wreck because of some insanely traumatic event involving some loser, or maybe the exact opposite of a loser, would leave not only me, but my friends so needy for some understanding that we could barely think straight.

Enter John Mayer. The first song I ever heard of his was "Comfortable". Go figure. Being the crazy hormonal teenage girls that we were, Kendall, Kara, and I would sit in one of our freezing cars waiting for the heater to kick on during a cloudy, rainy day and let the tears stream down our faces. This is NOT an exaggeration people. We were freaks. Or were we normal? We definitely were not numb I can tell you that much.

The lyrics have evolved and so have we...changing and growing, getting better and getting worse. Sounds incredibly stupid and girlish, but some of the worst times in my life have been made significantly better because of him.

Now if only he would fall in love with me.

Rhetoric

The art of persuasion can be extremely....well, persuasive.

Soothing, wonderful things in my life at this very second:

1. Wine down Wednesdays with my sister. Or as we like to call them, Whine down Wednesdays. Wine makes us whine. Trust me when I tell you we have LOADS to whine about.

2. My Haleigh.

3. Pumpkin Spice. Stereotypical, but true. Why does my subconscious tell me that I was the first person in history to love them? Pretty sure I was.

4. I can hear Joanne singing "Oh little Sassy, when I think of you..." through the wall. Why is she singing to her cat at midnight? Don't know, but it's comforting to the heartbroken.

5. I bought an umbrella today.

6. Two words: Jersey sheets. Who knew? I am sleeping on a t-shirt cloud.

love, t

Plug

Hey all...if you like my blog, then you'll LOVE my friend Joanne's!

http://joanniverse.blogspot.com
Check it out.

You will now be returned to your regulary scheduled program.

1996

In 6th grade my best friend Meagan Burton introduced me to a tiny treat
that would forever haunt me. Almost every Saturday we'd have our parents
drop us off at Ingram Park Mall and we'd basically run loose like little
heathens through what we thought (at the time) was paradise.

So I know what you're thinking...."What the hell kind of parents would
leave their 11 year old kid at INGRAM mall?" Well let me assure you that
13 years ago it was not that bad of a place...the biggest problem at the
time was adolescent boys in Jincos showing their underwear because they
couldn't invest in a belt.

We would spend hours roaming around, shopping at 5-7-9 (oh yeah, I
admitted it), eating at Luby's, and hitting up the candy store. This is
wear the problem began.

I don't have much of a sweet tooth, so while Meagan hit the chocolate
section, I would fill my Sweet Shop bag with sour belts, sour pouch
kids, and the occasional Jelly Belly. This was all fine and dandy until
one day I noticed a new addition to Meagan's candy bag....I asked what
she had and she responded..."CHOCOLATE COVERED GUMMY BEARS." I
pretended to gag and then made fun of her for having weird tastebuds.
Little did I know...

Later, while waiting for her dad on the couches in Dillards Home (this
was our normal pick-up position...the 3000 dollar couches were always
just so comfy) Meagan offered me a few of her sweet little chocolate-y
bears. With the "I'll try anything once" mentality, I bit into one.
The the rest is history. Sublime. Heaven. Ever since it has been one of
my favorite tastes in the world. I have been sneaking into that same
candy shop ever since, purchasing at least a 3 dollar handful every six
months or so. I am always nervous that they will go out of
business...or stop selling my little guys. That would be a travesty...I
mean, you can't buy them at Walgreens people! Everytime I bite a bear
head off, I am reminded of the little 11 year old shopper that I used to
be. Not much has changed. Except maybe the 5-7-9 thing.

O Neg

Obsessed with True Blood. Every gory detail. Could it get any more
psychotic? Could it get any hotter? Love love love.

Tejas

What a good ol' state we live in. Dogs sitting outside guarding their
owner's gas station, signs that instruct us to not pick up hitch hikers,
lakes that boast Confederate flag-flying boats. Wow get me out of here!!

Invierno

I want to make it clear to everyone that I am not a huge fan of summer.
Don't get me wrong, I AM a fan of laying on the beach in Mexico,
Florida, or the Cayman Islands...but NOT in San Antonio. Could it
possibly get any hotter? The heat is digusting, sticky, and it just
grosses me out. Everyone walks around this town drenched in sweat, and
it makes it hard to ever wear my hair anyway other than a pony. Even
the pools feel like a luke warm bath.

On the other hand, I LOVE, LOVE winter...pretty much everything about
it. The day that Starbucks starts selling my Pumpkin Spice lattes is
the day my winter celebratory dance begins. Coats bust out, I binge on
hats, my hair actually stays curly, and best of all, I don't have to
carry my deodorant around in my bag. Let's lighten the load people!!

I sometimes try and speed the process up a tad by slowly incorporating
linen scarves into my attire, stocking my pantry with Swissmiss, or for
instance, right now I am burning a Yankee "Christmas Cookie" candle. I'm
jumpin' the gun a little. It's only July.

Boo Hoo

Watching a special called "50 Biggest Celebrity Break-Ups..." Am I
glutton for punishment? How depressing is this? If Jen and Brad
couldn't make it, who can?

I also watched Adoption Stories earlier. I haven't cried so hard since
the Gap discontinued their ultra low rise boot cut. Watching parents
meet their new baby for the first time ever was so touching. Awww.

I romanticize everything. This is a curse.

Awkward

I'm bacckkkk!!! You're probably wondering if I fell off the end of the flat earth. It seems I get into a non-blogging funk every few months. I realize this may confuse you all and create a misconception that I cannot commit. No hard feelings. It's not you, it's me. I swear.

Not much time now to mend the bad blood, but I assure you I will return with a vengeance.

Not a Mac

I ate an apple this morning. This is very rare for me. I like fruit, but not by itself. More like in the form of a smoothie or in a salad or something. But the apples looked so nice and shiny and red at the grocery store, so I bought a couple...(yes, just two) and ate one on the way to school. I enjoyed it, but it made me feel weird....keep reading.

When I was little and would get a "loose tooth," I would become dead set on getting it out. This would include me wiggling it for hours, and yes, you guessed it...eating apples. Lots of apples. So while taking huge bites out of this nice, shiny, red apple, I couldn't help but become a little worried that my teeth would fall out while crunching. This weirded me out big time. I had to stop eating. I threw the rest out the window because it just so happens that apple cores are biodegradable. Right?

The apple also made my lips swell and my earlobes itch...which is the same thing that happens when I eat cantaloupe, walnuts, and guacamole.

Wayward

I had an ex-boyfriend who travelled ALL the time. When he was gone I would go through phases where all I would eat for dinner was grilled chicken. I would come up with new ways to season it, new things to dip it in, etc. I feel I should go back to that diet because I lost like, 10 pounds. But I hate poultry, it disgusts me, and I hate cooking it even more. I get so nervous because I can never tell if it's done or not. Salmonella waiting to happen.

I'm either pregnant, or obsessed. Because I crave Jamba Juice everyday.

My choreography is a song thief...any song I choreograph something to turns into "Kaelyn's dance" or "Jordyn's solo..." I discovered this as I heard two of those songs IN A ROW this morning and all I could think of were the girl's numbers. This is both good and bad. I'm dedicated, what can I say.

No words to describe the New Moon trailer. I hate being a stereotypical girl who is in love with RPatz, but that's who I've turned into. What can I say, I dig British guys with good hair.

Sol

Something has happened to me this year that I have never experienced. My body is literally craving Vitamin C.

There have been many summers where I've been too busy to make it to the lake or river every weekend, much less the pool, but it is only May, and already I have made this a priority.

For some reason, wherever I am and whatever I'm doing.... I crave the sun. I first noticed this about two weeks ago when I opted to sit outside at a restaurant. I normally don't do this for two reasons....bugs, and birds. Both which can ruin my meal by landing on my table or near me. If a bug lands near my plate, my gag factor turns on and I can't finish a meal. But lately I have been craving the sun so much that I want to bask in it at all times.

I have even sat in the backyard on a towel to get some rays. This is abnormal.

I have to give in to the needs of my body right?

When I Look in the Mirror

If we weren't so alike
You'd like me a whole lot more

Basically everyone knows that my right nostril is incredibly smaller than my left. I'm sure the reason people know this is because...well, I tell them. For the first 22 years of my life I blamed this on my nose being squished up as a baby and the fact that it never quite got back to normal. But now after my hundreds of encounters with numerous sinus issues, I blame it on a deviated septum. I'm not 100% sure what exactly that is, but I'm sure I have one. Self-diagnosis. A dangerous thing.

This morning in my car I had the a/c, as well as the Foo Fighters blowing in my face. Simultaneously. Ever since Kendall told me that she found an old JM mix CD, I have been on a quest to find some of mine. I hit the jackpot and found about 40 of them. Oh the joy. Just a preview of the bubbly feeling: U2, Alanis Morrisette, Foo Fighters, DAVID GRAY, and Jewel. Yumm-o. My throat is soar from all the singing. Another dangerous thing.

Tubing tomorrow is the best thing to happen this week. Besides my dinner date with Shelby.

Love Most of You,
T

Forlorn

As you have probably observed, I am a self-proclaimed music fanatic. But more specifically, a sad song fanatic. I have about a hundred favorite songs, and ninety-nine of them are so sad that they make you want to drive off the nearest intersection blind-folded in the pouring rain. I usually resist the urge. But just barely.

That little Taylor Swift can write the sad ones with the best of them. "Breathe" is by far the best song that she's ever written. It has lyrics like, "You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand", and "People are people and sometimes we change our minds, but it's killing me to see you go after all this time" It's beautifully written and most of us sentimentalists can relate so closely that it feels like she took the words right out of our brains.

You should all know The Beatles, "Yesterday" by heart, and if you don't...well then shame on you.

"Separate Lives" by Phil Collins. Google that shit. Mr. Collins knows a thing or two about heartbreak. He caught his first wife cheating on him with their decorator. This song verifies what we already know...things keep us connected throughout the years, and they don't change just because of heartbreak and other loves. It's sacred.

John Mayer is hands down my favorite pensive writer...although I'm sure I'm biased. Let's go back to my roots with "Comfortable." If this one doesn't pull at your heart strings than you have none. I am partial to "Come Back to Bed," "Back to You," and "Split Screen Sadness." Some of my favorite lyrics...
-Ninety-eight and six degrees of separation from you
-I'm sleeping in my bed with your silhouette
-I can't find where the moment went wrong at all
-Can't remember what went wrong last September, though I'm sure that you'd remind me if you had to
-All you need is love is a lie cause' we had love but we still said goodbye...now we're tired, battered fighters
(I could probably go all day on this one)


"Heart of the Matter" by Don Henley. I have to stop what I'm doing and listen. With any luck I'm in my car...that way I can sing my lungs out.

Rob Thomas is a man of my own heart. "Back to Good," and the little known "Rest Stop" are equally awesome.

A few others that can cost you some tears:
"The Scientist" by Coldplay. This one is a give in.
"Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak. One part insanity, two parts sexy.
"The Blower's Daughter" by Damien Rice. ahhhhh
"Anytime" by Brian McKnight
"My Immortal" by Evanescense
"Still be Losing You" by Randy Rogers
"Loving You Against my Will" Gary Allan

I should probably rip my radio out of my car.
Perhaps one day I will blog about sunshine and rainbows. But I wouldn't hold my breath.

Inside Wants Out

Just got a hold of Fiona Apple's version of Across the Universe....My only question: How was I not aware of this masterpiece prior to today? I'm not usually a fan of Beatles cover music but I jumped right on that ship. It's so awesome, I'm going to use it for a trio for the recital in June. Should be lovely.

All day I have spoken to only three humans, but have walked by thousands and thousands. Hmmm.

Continuum

Last night while mini-bowling (long story)...I heard the Coldplay song, "Yellow" played at least 36 times in a row from some malfunctioned stereo system...Over and over again. I did not get sick of it. That song reminds me of a certain time in my life and I look back at it fondly.

The dreams have not stopped, but have only gotten worse. Please get out of my dreams, you know who you are. I care for you deeply and always will, but cannot stand the reoccurring scenarios of plastic boats, DMB t-shirts, leather couches, random movies, and chain link fences on a nightly basis. This has affected my daily life.

Automatic

I use the words, "sliding doors" quite often and quite loosely. Until now, I have never fully explained this term, even to my friends. I guess it is because I like my little secret world, my secret phrase, and in the past I have enjoyed using it while muttering under my breath. I will now attempt to explain to the best of my ability. Think of me as a book. Now open me.

I saw the Gwenyth Paltrow movie, Sliding Doors, a hundred years ago. I really didn't think twice about it...probably because the decisions I made back then were sadly irrelevant...where to go for Spring Break, whether or not to tell my father about the teensy little fender bender in the HEB parking lot, which color swimsuit to buy...(oh hell, I'll take one of each). I guess what I'm saying is there really were no explosive consequences for any of the choices I faced. But I guess that comes with the territory of being 17.

In the movie, it shows how different her life would be in two different outcomes all based on if she made the train, or missed the train. I adapted it a bit. To me, sliding doors is used when I think about how crazy different my life would be if I would have made one small decision different at a time in my life.

For example, remember the time I jumped ship my first freshman semester and came back to town for a crazy douche bag that will be left nameless? Sliding doors. One decision....and bam, here I am still in school all these years later, paying my own way. Oh and by the way, that same decision left a relationship with one of my parents completely demolished. Who knows what would have happened if I had stayed? I am thankful, nonetheless.

EVERY breakup....sliding doors. Each and every one of them could have had possibilites.

Friendships, letting go my pride. Sliding doors.

Where the hell would I be now? Australia? Still here in this town? Living a nightmare in east Texas with the same douche bag?

I am a complete "what if" type person...I hate that I am, but I am. I always have been, and can't help it. Consider me John Mayer's female counterpart. Maybe I should get into the lyrics writing business. People would love my negativity.

I'm almost positive people will look down on me for this "what if" quality...but the truth of the matter is, I'm saying what you're thinking.

Suggestion.

I don't care what anyone says....David Archuleta's performance of "Imagine" on Idol last year was so amazing that I don't think anyone has, or ever will come close to topping it. YouTube. Now. Perfection. I still go and listen to it at least once a month. Dare I say it....better than Lennon's.

Inquiry

Does anyone else miss Oasis?

Stranger than Fiction

Quickly throwing my current thoughts onto this blog in no particular order.

• Someone PLEASE explain to me why the White House has "set apart" a block of tickets specifically for gay families and their children for this year's Easter Egg Roll? If they want to attend, fine, but why should they get priority availability? Oh well, this is the least of our country's worries.
• I just ran a mile. I thought I was going to barf. I am aware this makes me a pansy.
• I want an entire wall of my children's rooms filled with big, tall bookshelves with books. Thousands of them. I have made my mom save every single one of our childhood books so that my kid's can read them. This has created somewhat of a storage predicament for her. Berenstein Bears, American Girl, Judy Blume, Eric Carl, you name it. My babies will be reading vintage books. Be on the lookout for a future blog on my obsession with children's books...
• I have a new habit of going to the library computer lab for awhile after class. This makes me feel extremely scholastic. Besides, what else would I be doing during the day?
• My TIVO cut off Adam Lambert last night. Don't fret...I You Tubed.
• Why is my mommy's sweet tea better than any sweet tea I've ever tasted? Biased.

Tj

Castle in the Air

I have been having the absolute craziest dreams lately...and for the past couple weeks these dreams have been occurring every single night. I know that supposedly we have numerous dreams every time we sleep, but lately I wake up with them fresh in my head, then I usually continue to think of them throughout the rest of the day. Sometimes if it was prominent or bizarre enough, I'll think about the dream for days on end.

I've always been a frequent dreamer...usually I'll remember my dreams 4 to 6 times out of the week. Some people think this is weird. I went through a short spurt this past winter where I had a scary dream pretty much every night. These creepy dreams of mine almost always have the same theme: Someone is trying to get in my house through the front door, and I am trying to find a place to hide. I always hear the same noises. The noises stem back from the very first horrifying dream that I can remember having, probably when I was 8 or 9 years old. I remember the entire dream, in color. It involved a red-headed woman and two other men pounding on the front door of my family's house and muffled screaming. Terrifying now, even more terrifying in 1993.

I'm naturally sentimental...you all know this. Most of you people probably like me because of that quality alone, if not for any other reason...But when it comes to my dreams this is NOT a good characteristic. There is always, always someone from my past that shows up for a starring role. The weirdest thing about these dreams? The random people that turn up in them.

Last night? My 5th grade world's biggest crush. 3 nights ago it was my cousin's best friend. Last week it was my best friend from the 6th grade. I've dreamt about every single ex-boyfriend that I've EVER had. Ever. And these aren't cameos. They dominate the dream. Does this make me abnormal?? Does it? I am happily, happily married. I love my friends. I love my life. I wouldn't change much. I've tried not eating past 7 o'clock thinking maybe my late dinners had something to do with it. I'm convinced that it's Facebook's fault...it's always someone from Facebook. These "guest stars" have got to go or I'll be writing a strongly worded letter to Dr. Phil McGraw. Maybe I need to be hypnotized.

Seeking Immediate Help.
-T

My Cup Runneth Over

Today was like going to the produce section and not having to sift through every tomato to find a decent, ripe one...because every single one is perfect.

First off I had the best barrel of laughs in Spanish class. We were to stand up when our professor called on us and act out whatever particular verb or emotion he told us to in front of the class. My hilarious and adorable friend Steve (let it also be known that he is the only friend I've EVER made at school and we get along so well that we recently decided that he is the male version of myself) got the word, "asustado", which is "afraid" in English. So he made some weird face and we laughed. Then it was my turn. I always dread being singled out in that class because I am convinced that I am the only one in the room that isn't fluent in the language. Thank God I got a word I knew, "enfermo" which means "sick". I panicked slash spassed out a tad and started making a face like I was crying. Everyone sort of laughed but I thought I had done pretty well. Later Steve informed me that I should have sneezed. Or coughed. Either one of those would've mimed out "sick" a little better. Whatever. Totally not fair that the Spanish speakers get to take conversational courses and get A's. My teacher continued on to the girl that sits in front of me when all of a sudden, Andrew, who sits behind us and hasn't said A WORD all semester stands up and starts having some sort of attack that looks like a cross between a convulsion and a hip hop routine. He quickly regroups and proudly states, "BORRACHO"...(which means drunk in English)....I almost peed my pants. It was the most random display I've seen since my brother stood up in the High School Counselor's office and said, "I'M SEXUALLY ACTIVE!". There are some BIG time weirdos at my school.

After escuela I headed out to the lake house with Shelby; Bentley and Haleigh in tow. After trying to find a restaurant with a patio that allowed dogs (no luck)...we ate shrimp dip and lump crab cakes lunch at Lucky's overlooking the water. It was gorgeous. I could telepathically sense Will and Jason's extreme feelings of jealousy. We grabbed the dogs and headed to Wimberley Creek....our favorite spot in Texas, ate some Blue Bell, and sat in the water while Bentley swam like Michael Phelps.

Finish it off with dinner at Perico's with my mom and her NISD friends, Britt, 2 margs, and an impromptu trip to Academy at 9:30 to grab some Nikes. I could fill this blog with things to be thankful for.

Repeat Please.

Jai guru deva om

I don't know why nobody told you

How to unfold your love

----------------------------------

My obsession with The Beatles began a long, long time ago. I am convinced that I listened to them in the womb, because I have been pretty attached ever since I can remember. When I was little I would dance around my dad's office like a maniac and tumble on a thick blue somersault mat listening to The Sgt. Pepper's album over and over again....I'm talking the actual record people, not the cassette tape. This is true love. "When I'm Sixty-Four" stands out the most in my memory during those dance sessions, but probably because it was the catchiest.

I am not a fair-weathered fan. I have stayed true all these years. I try not to flaunt my enthusiasm for them too much in fear of being the annoying girl. Although I have had to resist the ever-daunting temptation of buying the "I Miss the Beatles" bumper sticker.

"Blackbird" sounds pretty repetitive when you just hear it....but actually listen and it will change your life. "Eleanor Rigby"...what? Insane! I'll just go ahead and be stereotypical when I mention "Hey Jude", "Here Comes the Sun", "The Long and Winding Road", and one of the greatest written songs in the universe, "Yesterday". Oh. my. God.

The reason I decided to take a break from my "senses" rant and blog on The Beatles is because I heard "Penny Lane" on the radio the other day and honestly could not remember the last time I had heard such a good song on the radio. Sometimes I'll catch some old Oasis or something that gets me going but hearing PL totally made me realize how today's music is shit. Except JM...don't you worry, that will never change.

My Next Tattoo:

"And in the end

the love you take

is equal to the

love you make"

Peepers

I hate touching my own eyes. It disgusts me. In the last 5 years I have avoided this as much as possible by committing the ultimate optometry crime...keeping my contacts in my eye way longer than they should be left in.

I know it sounds gross, but I have put 1 month lenses in my eyes, then gone 6 to 8 months before taking them out. Bad habit, but like I said, physically touching my eyeball grosses me out. It's like my hands can't get clean enough. But recently this has all changed. After visiting the eye doctor for the sole purpose of getting an up to date prescription, I found myself getting lectured and reprimanded VERY harshly. I'm talking the way a toddler gets talked to after sticking his hand in an electrical socket. You would have thought I cussed in church or committed some other unforgivable crime of that sort. While the doctor boomed over me in all of his glory, I sat there meek and small with my tail between my legs. He told me flat out that if I continued this habit, then I would permanently screw up my eyes. He sent me packing with NIGHTLY contacts, and no prescription until he saw me the next week and I had proved that I took the new contacts out each night to give my eyes "a rest". Which I have, reluctantly...but still haven't gone back to my follow-up appointment to get my prescription. It's a vicious circle.

Sticking my finger on my eye ball...not pleasant, but here are some things that are.

Reem Acra Couture Gowns have become my recent online viewing obsession. Not that I have ever touched one, let alone been in the same room as one, but I am intrigued nonetheless.

Traveling....I craved seeing more and more each day. I wanted to fill my head with awesome sights so that I would always have memories of the different places we saw.

Two words....Google Earth. How f-ing cool is Google Earth? If our great-grandparents knew the things we could do these days they'd poop themselves.

The top view at Eisenhower Park, which I just recently saw. Gorgeous reward for working your butt off to get to the top.

Huh?

My dad always snored pretty loudly growing up and I can't imagine sleeping next to a man for the rest of my life who sounds like the motor of a 1969 El Camino. I guess you'd just have to get used to it...kind of like people who live in NYC get used to the sirens and horns blaring all night while they sleep. Falling asleep to the sound of sirens. City Love. Sounds perfect to me.

I can't imagine getting old because if I lose my hearing, I will go insane. I love music pretty much more than anything...about as much as I love the art of dance....and what would dance be without music? I hear an amazing song, and sub consciously begin choreographing to it right away. It's so exciting to put movements to such amazing sounds and I am lucky to get to give those movements to others and watch them perform my creations. Okay, I'm getting sentimental.

How would a movie be a movie if we couldn't hear the funny, sweet, or scary words or noises? How would The Wizard of Oz be The Wizard of Oz without us audibly hearing the words, "There's No Place Like Home"...I would not be whole if I didn't hear Leonardo tell Kate that he'd "Never Let Go". Plus I'm fairly certain that my heart would have never mended after a few tumultuous relationships if it weren't for John Mayer. How would we vote for our favorite American Idol?

Of course we use the majority of sound for communication purposes, but these are some sounds that I just couldn't live without...

The Beatles...enough said.
The ocean
The "I Love You's" of my family
Hymns, specifically "Amazing Grace" and "Great is Thy Faithfulness"
Laughing kids and babies
Rain

My ears better hold up for the next 60 years, because I can't see life worth living without being able to enjoy the above mentioned.

Sniff

For the sake of doing something interesting, as well as for entertainment purposes, I will be doing a 5 part series on senses. Yes class, this lesson begins today and ends....whenever I feel artistically average enough to ramble on in a not boring way. I got this idea yesterday when I couldn't smell anything because of my horrific/world's worst sinus infection EVER, which by the way has caused a 5 day headache. How do I know it is a sinus headache you ask? Let's rewind 5 years and hundreds of dollars ago to me getting a shot in my ass and being sent to get a cat scan on my brain because my idiot doctor couldn't figure out that no, it wasn't a tumor or even a migraine...but the worst case of chronic sinusitis that he had ever seen.

Anyways, I have gone many days without being able to smell. To me this is normal. I have had severe allergies and sinus issues since I was little, so I have learned to deal with it. My mother reacts to this by sighing, "Taylor you shouldn't have to live like that..." But I just roll my eyes. Then she tells me not to roll my eyes. So when I have a non-allergenic day (which is rare), I celebrate by taking it all in. I had one of these days on Friday when I got my hair cut...yes, also the day I contributed to the VIA fund (see previous post). I was walking through the Dillard's shoe section when I got a strong whiff of one of the most recognizable scents ever. A smell that takes me back to first kisses and butterflies. Curve. I assume many of you girls know it well if you ever had a boyfriend in the 1998-2004 era. I think it was a right of passage for every guy I ever came in contact with to completely cover themselves in the stuff. There was one that I swore bathed in it. Our sense of smell is more closely linked to our memories than any other sense. I can see why. At that very moment the memories came flooding in like f-ing Niagara Falls. It was so odd. I remembered an instance coming face to face with a boy (not to be named) at the door of my house in 10th grade after my mom had been diagnosed with cancer. I even remembered what t-shirt of his I slept in that he had sprayed the stuff on. I remembered burying my face in that same guy's neck 5 years later for a different reason. It was so surreal. There are places I walk into that smell exactly like my best friend from elementary school Bethany's house where I'll stop and say..."Oh weird...it smells like the Yoder's house in here." The smell of Crayola Crayons remind me of a million things, mostly just being young and loving life. The strong odor you get when you're driving into Port Aransas is SO exciting and recognizable because you've smelled it a hundred times and you know you're almost to the beach.

Some of my Favorites...
Starbucks...arguably my favorite one ever.
My Granddaddy's clothes.
Garlic
Buttercream Yankee Candles
Play-Doh. Weird, I know.
Babies
Noxema
Cigars
Cabbage Patch Dolls

I guess my point is that I am fairly happy that my sense of smell is handicapped. Otherwise I would probably be a babbling pile of tears and emotions on a daily basis. And nobody likes a crybaby.

It Could Always Be Worse...

Why can't people just leave me alone? I absolutely cannot stand when I am approached by random men (or in some cases women) who want money when I am by myself. It's uncomfortable, weird, and it really disturbs me for some reason. When I'm with someone else I don't mind so much because I don't feel threatened, but there's something so violating about advancing on a 24 year old girl by herself. Today I stopped by my hairdresser's to get my bangs cut, and as I was leaving I saw a forty-something man with a Spurs shirt on. We made eye contact...and sure enough, he walks right up to me and says, "hi mija".

You know, generally I am a very pleasant person, but in this case I was just annoyed that he called me "mija" without even knowing me. Plus, I have a horrible headache behind my right eye that has been there for 3 days and it just puts me in a bad mood. Of course I answered back "hello" politely, but didn't stop walking. He followed me quickly, then asked if I could by any chance spare eighty cents. Uhhhh...No one has ever asked for a specific amount in change before so it peaked my curiosity. After looking around and realizing that he probably couldn't kidnap me without me making a huge fuss in front of the other 100 mall patrons, I stopped and asked him (pretty directly) what he needed the eighty cents for. He answered, "well, um you see, my woman left me here and took my car, so I gotta catch the Via." I laughed, then realized that he was probably telling me the truth. I grabbed for my wallet and started to pull out a couple dollars when I asked him why on earth his "woman" would leave him stranded in the mall. His response: Priceless.

"Cause she was all mad that I wouldn't buy her an Easter present."

Redemption. The guy deserved the eighty cents. Plus a dollar so he could grab a drink or a cheeseburger. Before I walked away I said, "Well good luck sir, and tell your woman that she doesn't need anything for Easter...we're in a recession."

Congratulations

I've won a few awards in my life. I credit most of them to my amazing teammates, whether it was my group at the studio growing up (2nd in the nation what,what), or my ODT sisters in high school. Not many of them were solo awards...although my Miss High Kick plaque is still proudly displayed on my bookshelf. Wonder when I'll put that away. Anyway, there is one award that I know without a shadow of a doubt that I would win against most Americans...Worst Immune System. Of all time. I'm surprised I haven't blogged about this sneezy subject before. I picked today to do so because I'm currently laying on my mom's couch, watching an episode of J and K+8 that I have seen 18 times but tivo'd anyway, surrounded by the following items:

1. Puff's Plus. Number one reason why I like being at my mom's when I'm sick. She buys the good tissues. I can go through a half box on any given day, but when I'm sick, it's more cost effective to buy the 6 pack.

2. Vick's Vapor Rub. Let me make it clear that I don't necessarily believe in Vick's. I don't understand the mechanics of it, and don't swear by it like one of my ex-boyfriends who I shall not name who would put it on his feet anytime he had a cough. Weird. But my step dad happened to have some in his medicine cabinet so I figured it couldn't hurt.

3. Chloraseptic. Worst part about being sick. It's necessary because of the numbing and all that jazz, but I'd rather eat escargot then spray that shit down my throat. Who invented Chloroseptic? Here's a bright idea....how bout a FLAVORLESS Chloroseptic? That'd be good.

4. Tylenol. The only thing that's keeping me alive. When they Tylenol wears off, my fever goes back up to 101 or 102 and I wake up in a pool of sweat. Disgusting.

My point is that I am sick A LOT. Very very frequently. I'm not sure why this is. It could be that I don't take vitamins. I know that I should. I even bought some Women's Daily a few months ago but haven't even opened the seal. I get a sore throat about once every 6 weeks. I have stomach problems at least once every two months. I have allergies every single day of my life. What am I going to do when I have children? Stay away from them for 4 whole days while I'm on my deathbed?

98 and 6 Degrees of Separation

The Starbucks on San Pedro has a coffee themed Hitler. She goes around to employees yelling, "DON'T PUT MILK ON TOP OF THE ESPRESSO MACHINE!!!!!!!!!!!" But then says to me "Here ya go baby" when she hands me my coffee. Hypocritical hypogriff....shout out to Harry P. I don't see how anyone surrounded by that much espresso can possibly be grumpy. I'd be passing out 20s. Wonder if they're hiring.

Today my spanish teacher, Mr. Watkins, who is in his 70's and who I love desperately, said to me..."It's a joy having you in my class mija." 35 other students witnessed my heart melt.

Am I the only one in America who felt like I was being punked when Norman Gentle went through to the top 12? What WHAT?

4 Minute Blog

I am on day 2 of my new endeavor: 30-minute-yoga.
Day one, I rolled around awkwardly and at one point even keeled over onto the hardwood. Pool of sweat. It wasn't pretty. After dancing and even being halfway successful enough at that to get the opportunity to actually teach dance, I'd like to think that I have extremely superior balancing skills. But when it comes to yoga, it's a whole other ball game. I have a new found respect for Madonna. Okay not really.

Today actually went MUCH better. I even began to breathe in good intervals. I'll keep you updated.

Contraception

I got into two fights on Sunday.
Both with children under 10.

Both at a well known restaurant that I will not publicly name.

Child #1: As I walked up to get a refill of sweet tea, I see a thin string flying across the walkway in a motion much like that of a yo-yo. But this was not a yo-yo. Oh no. It was the most repulsive item that you can think of. It was a sticky hand. You know you remember them. Neon bright colors, disgusting, long, sticky hand that sticks to everything. My little brother thrived on annoying me with these things (along with lizards and rubber band guns that my mom bought at craft shows...but that's a whole other blog)...he would throw them at me and they'd get stuck in my hair or whatever. Disgusting. They pick up every piece of dirt and grime in a 25 foot radius. I want to make it very clear that I never played with things like this. Never sticky hands, never anything that made a mess, never Creepy Crawlers or anything like that.

I believed in two things: baby dolls and Barbies.

So the child that was responsible for the throwing of the sticky hand IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WALKWAY was a girl. This immediately made me dislike her. But the fact that myself and the woman behind me couldn't get past her without getting bitch slapped in the face by a bacteria covered gummy whip made me dislike her even more. She didn't even see us. She had no idea that we were dodging her weapon so rapidly that it appeared we were playing a sloppy version of Dance Dance Revolution. The brave woman behind me took her hoodie, covered her head, and made a run for it while muttering "she's gonna hit me...she's gonna hit me...". I couldn't take it. I shouted the 15 feet to her mother who was oblivious to the attack "HELLOOOO...EXCUSE ME...IS THIS YOUR KID??...SHE'S HITTING US WITH HER STICKY HAND!!!!!". I was so pissed. Since when is this behavior acceptable? I don't blame the kid. I blame her parents. On second thought, I can't even discuss this any further. I just won't be traveling that far down Bandera anymore.

Child #2: We'll make this short and sweet in order to not conjure up any sore memories in my tired head. Before we left, we had to try our hand at Stacker. Those of you who don't know Stacker, he is the machine that is responsible for stealing 10% of our monthly income. He just looks sooo beat-able. One day I will win that ipod nano....after spending $856 dollars in failed attempts. So halfway through my second unsuccessful game....the child who has had her nose pressed up against the glass of MY stacker starts PUSHING A BUTTON!!! Whatt?? WHAT? She honestly pushed the "Select Your Prize" button WHILE I was playing. I look at it as her grabbing my wallet from my over sized bag and taking a dollar out. I was in shock of course. I said, "Hey!! NO NO!" She ran out to her mother and told on me. tattle tail. We decided it was time to leave.

Forgive Me

I am assuming you are all furious with me. Lo siento for the long period of absentee blogging. Life is cruel and has taken us in some twisted places the last week. Let's talk randomness.

• Today I watched one hours worth of Real World. I then realized that I am now a half degree stupider than before.
• The rodeo last Friday equalled complete GHETTOness. I honestly thought at one point that my life was in jeopardy. Note to self: Avoid dollar night at all costs.
• I began wearing eyeliner regularly a couple days ago. The results have been fanatical. It works wonders.

-T

306 Diaries

Today I spent a total of 2 hours on the road. All 2 hours were spent on FM 306, which is the only major street in my world nowadays. On it you can find a plethora of great places...

Lakeview Cafe (where us and a cowboy enjoying his steak by himself were the only ones dining at tonight....mmmmm, patty melt on rye), 4 gas stations across a 50 minute driving span, the steak finger place, Kristie's Boutique, and the aforementioned "306 Roadhouse"...oh memories....

Today's destination was my sister's Rhodesian Ridgeback Bentley's vet's office which is about 30 minutes down 306. I dropped him off at 8, drove back, then picked him up at 3 and drove back. He had surgery =( *Side Note* Today I noticed another veterinarian just 5 minutes away from the house. Pretty convenient. I almost started wondering why she would choose a vet so far, but then remembered that knowing my sister, I'm sure researched every vet in the county, then went through Dr. Sebby's credentials with a fine tooth comb, probably even making sure he got A's in 9th grade biology. *End Side Note*

I enjoyed this outing for the following reasons:

-First, I like to get out of the house. Being here for hours on end only leads to too much Jon and Kate Plus 8, which leads to me essentially becoming part of their family for the day. I know they would love me if they knew me.

-Second, KJ97 had the best song choices possible on today. I found myself lost in Fool Hearted Memory, Ocean Front Property, and Lead On. HEAVEN!! I have strayed a little from my country routes lately...I blame this on Rascal Flatts, Bucky Covington, etc....but these 2 hours brought me "strait" back to the basics. Nothing beats it. Oh how I love him.

On the final leg of the trip, I was behind a Mazda MPV van, circa 1986 (which we had when I was 4 by the way...in white) stuffed with about 18 people. I didn't even notice this until a little hand kept creeping up from the back and waving at me. I waved back to the kid, you know being polite. He probably thought I was talking to him since I was singing pretty loudly with GS at this point. Then all of a sudden I see Spongebob pop into the window. A HUGE Spongebob poster. The poster is dancing, swaying back and forth. This was distracting. I almost resented the child for distracting me, and I resented his parents even more for not having their kid buckled up. I wrote down the license plate. I'm not sure why. I have always hated Spongebob.

Chain Reaction

This blog will be for advertising purposes only for two reasons.

1. I am using my Sidekick and my thumbs aren't up for too much cardio with it being a Monday and all.

2. I'm in class.

Hell has frozen over. My sister has started a blog.

Bentleymiles.blogspot.com

That is all for now.

Proud can I never be of what I hate....Courteous of WS

It's been like, 13 years now so I can feel it's been long enough to indulge the following:

I was, and still am secretly disappointed in the movie version of Romeo and Juliet...you know, the one with my self-proclaimed soul mate, Leo. Of course when it came out I freaked and went to see it, bought the movie on the release date and the soundtrack even before that...but it was never what I built it up to be. Maybe it's the modern day time frame, or maybe it's just that I would have stabbed Claire Danes in her sleep to get to play that part with arguably the most perfect man EVER. But all the same, it kind of sucked. Don't get me wrong, there are some marvelous parts that did and still do tug on my heart strings...ummm, the pool scene. Duh. Plus I love the long white dress that she wears at the beginning. I'll still defend it when someone bashes it for it having too many "thou" and "thy's"...but deep down I wasn't satisfied. I think it could be the camera work. It's a little spastic.

I got my hair cut today...which is surprising. I don't do well with change.

Big Blog Love

I used to blog sporadically...maybe 3 times a week or so. But my fabulous friend Kendall has recently joined this "21st century blog craze" and she writes daily...so it's only fair that I do as well since I'm pretty sure we are the only people who read each others blog. Ha. Except the tiny fact that I'm fairly certain that R. Pattinson logs onto mine every couple days or so. So if you're reading this RPatz, I love you. And I love you too Kendall.



I'm an addicted to Big Love. I urge everyone to take advantage of your HBO On Demand or NetFlix and start from season 1. It is SO GOOD. Pretty sure it's better than Dexter and True Blood (which is like trying to find something better than steak or lobster bisque) and about as good as the Tudors. My mom has this built up animosity towards the fact that I even watch the show. Something to do with the Mormon thing probably. But she has something against vampires too...I'm beginning to think she discriminates.


Oh....My best friend's baby (and my God baby), Blake, is turning 1 on Saturday. It seems like just yesterday he was born! He's honestly the world's most beautiful child. And I'm not biased. So Happy Birthday Blakey!!!


**T**

Jean vs. Vera

Why do people dress up to go to SAC? It honestly bugs me. Sometimes while in class, I can hardly concentrate because I can only focus on the 19 year old sitting next to me's outfit. These girls seriously dress like their about to be picked up in a neon green Palms limo and be taken to Pure. It's ridic. This is something I have been wanting to blog about for quite some time. Just a reminder, these are early MORNING classes. This would entail getting up early just for the sake of looking hot for Mr. Nakkamarra, my math teacher, because I'm sure not many guys are looking for their future wives at 8:30 in the morning...at SAC. The girl in front of me in Spanish (not the same one who brought the full on McDonalds breakfast to class complete with pancakes AND eggs) wore skinny black pants and hot pink 3 inch heels on Monday. I guess maybe my biggest problem with this is that it makes me look scrubalicious. Not that I care...at all...but one day I might develop a complex. Sometimes I'm proud of myself for even putting on jeans when I drag my ass out of bed instead of the tempting notion to stay comfy in sweat or yoga pants. I don't care what these Sacians do, but I will not wander off the plaid, ponytail, and ugg train.

Maybe tomorrow something outlandish will occur so that I can blog about something interesting.

-T

"Paging Patrick Swayze..."

Update on the weird things I've been subjected to out here in no man's land:

1. Waking up at 6 a.m. to drive into town to attend my 9 a.m. class. You must be wondering...3 hours to get to SAC? No my friends, not at all. The reason would be that if I leave at 7:45, I sit in the slew of Bulverde's best soccer moms and CEO's Mercedes SLK's and Carrera's. Must admit I look a tad out of place at the Starbuck's parking lot. But I mean come on, there's way better things to spend my money on other than cars...beginning with Machiattos. Ending with Margot traveler bags.

2. Hiking. Well you probably wouldn't call it actual hiking. But walking down to the river with the dogs on rocks constitutes hiking in my book. I'm pretty sure there were some calories burned.

3. My next door neighbor Cassius. He is 11 and pretty much the coolest but oddest child I've ever met. My sister has told me endless stories about him, but until I actually had a conversation with him I didn't understand. He probably gave me more insight in one hour than my sociology professor did all semester last year. Just a few of our topics of conversation:
Bands (Rolling Stones included of course)
How long it takes to walk to Sattler
Where to get the best frito pies in town (which I later found out is also a bait house...sick)
Abortion. When I was 11 I don't think I even knew what abortion was.
His illegal CD selling business.
And the list goes on. Check back frequently for updates on my new life enhancing acquaintance.

So anyway, you get the picture right? Well none of these fun-filled things prepared me for what I encountered last night...

306 Roadhouse.

Let's paint a mental picture shall we? The building has probably been there since 1942, it's dirty, it's loud, it's smoky, and most of all....it's Bring-Your-Own-Liquor. Firstly, take the judgemental glance right off your snarky face...yes I was at a bar, but I'm 24. And didn't drive. And I'm married. Defensive self justification. So we walk inside, and it honestly felt like a movie scene where the band stops and EVERY head in the joint turns straight to you in slow motion. This was not a figment of my delusional imagination. Honest. Ask Shelby. They all hated us. I could tell. Which I don't appreciate. I'm sick of the stereotyping. So we go to the bar and get carded VERY carefully. Of course I wanted something tropical and girly and gay to drink...which was returned with a "WELL WE GOT SHMIRNOFF...." The place only sells beer. If you want liquor, you bring it in your LV Speedy 30.

Well it just so happened that after getting my Miller Lite, I recognized the toothless waitress from Canyon Lake Cafe (the place that has the Braun Station Elementary steak finger replicas) and went over to say hello. It got easier after I had found a friend. The rest of the night is kind of a blur, but I can tell you with fair certainty that I walked in on a lady in the bathroom (it's called a LOCK, sweetie), introduced the 60 year old neighborhood treasurer to my boss from the dance studio via text messaging, and got my picture taken by a grandpa with a Motorola Razor. All in all I would say it was an establishment right out of one of those creepy alien movies where the town hicks gather to shoot pool and get sloshed. I will return one day with pictures. Pending I make it out of there alive next time.

-T

A Short Spurt

If you don't like me...
I urge you to proceed with caution.

This shit it ridiculous. I honestly can't turn on the TV without being blinded by that woman. Let's not even bring Obama into this. I respect him for the position he is in, but if I have to look at Hillary every day for years to come, I am cancelling my Time Warner contract and throwing my plasma off the balcony. The woman repulses me.

A Bit of Randomness

Are gas prices rising again? How convenient...the exact same week I move an hour away from the real world. Just my f-ing luck.

I like how the "5 hour energy" commercial shows some red-headed guy rambling the longest run on sentence I've ever heard at 80 mph. Yes, I want to be like that guy. Phentermine much?

Exposure

Now that my new life has me driving all over South Texas and I spend the majority of my time conversing with a 6 pound malti-poo, I've had a little too much time to think. Being alone is scary sometimes for obvious reasons. It forces you to get to know yourself, to think about your life and your future and all that jazz. I've realized some things about myself...things it took only 24 short but fantastical years for me to figure out.

1. I care way too much about homeless people. Sometimes after seeing one, I can't get them out of my head for days. I still remember so many of them in different situations...the old lady by Olive Garden hoping someone would give her leftovers (I really didn't need that chicken marsala anyway), the "veteran" under 410 who carries a Bible (I almost handed my car over to that one), and of course my very fave, the old man who travels the I-10 corridor who always has his hair cut and never wants to take my money. I'm partial to him. My sister practically invited him to Thanksgiving dinner...well not really, but she might as well had.

2. I'm pretty sure I secretly wish that I could sing. Not only sing, but like, sing sing. I'm talking C. Aguilera style. I only just noticed when David Archuleta came on the radio and I got pretty into it. Can't believe I'm admitting that I like that song. Love that song. "Cause I just got to knoooooowww...."

That's all for now. Can't go exposing my entire self in one night. That would make me a slut.

Love you all,

T

If I Could.

In true Taylor style, I feel inclined to bitch about things I'll never change. But would if I could. I wonder what it would be like to be the rainmaker....oh Rob Thomas, I'll never get over you. Anyways, let's pretend. I'll be the Queen of America, which in turn knocks Obama back to...well, wherever he came from...and this is my beef. Can't believe I said beef.

1. If you know me, you knew this was coming. Mexican Nationals. Don't get hysterical. This is def not a racial slur. Yes, yes I'm forever thankful for the economy boost. But let's get down to business. This is solely in regards to them taking ALL my parking spaces at every single retail store in the city, AS WELL as all my beaded Banana Rebublic dresses (that were on sale by the way) and leaving nothing but a size 0. This is turn caused me to gaze longingly at the craftsmanship, then leave the store and go stick my finger down my throat in attempts to one day fit into that exact dress. Reality sets in....Not happening anytime soon. I was just in Mexico last month, and I'm here to testify that they DO in fact have pretty decent shopping. If you like leather.

2. This one is a new discovery. Seeing non-friends tagging mutual friends on Facebook. Look facebook-jeti, I'm not always in the mood to check out 25 plus pictures of ex-flames and their new love interests. I'd much rather stick a flaming hot fork down my throat. I'm sure you're wondering why I would even subject myself to these pictures. Why not just ignore it? And of course there are reasons. These pictures are like a really bad train wreck...I want to look away, I want to be speeding past the eye sore and not checking the rear view mirror...but I can't. It's pure magnet poetry. Next being the obvious explanantion...my massochistic tendencies. You know you feel the same way. Let's revolt.

3. The weather. It's January and 84 degrees. Give me enough time to wear some fedoras. Enough said.

4. The Jonas Brothers.

In other news, we are finally almost completely moved to the lake house....AND I actually found the gray Priorities prep jacket that I have hunted endlessly for. Hoorah. It's the small things in life.