It’s been sometime since I’ve felt the need to divulge. I’ve been attempting my best to deal with circumstances rather than vent to pen and paper (or rather in this case computer/public forum). But tonight, as the boyfriend sleeps and I have a load of laundry to do I wanted to just vent about everything and nothing at all.

I went to my hometown for Fourth of July weekend. I hung out with old friends, went to the beach, had some amazing Mexican tacos, plenty of raspas (yet still not enough!), took some random maternity pictures of my very pregnant friend, and went to my favorite child hood pizza place. It was spectacular. I often tend to forget what it’s like to hang out with friends. It’s been so long since I’ve hung out with anyone who wasn’t the boyfriend, so it was great to catch up with friends I hadn’t seen in years. It always sucks leaving them behind, I wish I could pack them up and bring them with me. I also hung out with the family, which made me nostalgic and wish I was closer to home. It sucks living far away from home.

The trip was set to end on a good note and then we got word that my Uncle had passed away. I, honestly, didn’t know how to take it. It had been so long since I had seen him. He used to be a happy man. It was rare that you would not see him playing or idly strumming his guitar, he was almost always singing a song to someone. Though he never had to say it, it was apparent that he desired to have a family and it wasn’t until his late 30’s or early 40’s that he met someone. Most people believe, that in his desperation for a family, he settled for her because since his marriage the songs slowly faded and he became consumed by depression and drug addiction. I remember it was a month before my brother passed away that he attempted against his own life. That was when I learned of his depression and felt I could relate to him because of my own struggles — though if I believe what family says his stemmed a lot from his drug binges. Either way, I sympathized with him. He turned to religion and eventually pushed a lot of his family away. We would try to go find him and he would either ignore our calls, pretend he wasnt home. . he basically avoided us at all cost. They say it was because his religion was very strict on whom he could associate himself with but I believed that his depression played a bigger factor as to why he pushed people away. When we were down there visiting, my mom even mentioned him and we both thought it pointless to go visit because we knew he wouldn’t answer our knocks. And from what they say, his wife was hardly ever around. I’m sad that I didn’t get to know him more and that I’ll never have the chance, but I hope that wherever he is now he’ll be able to rest from the demons that never left his side while he was living.

Before I was able to react to his death, we were driving on the interstate and reminiscing about my Uncle when this box, of what I believe was yogurt or some unidentifiable goo, was thrown from a passing car onto our windshield. Fortunately, I got a grip of the wheel and was able to not freak out and lose control. However, I became infuriated by the pieces of shit who could have potentially caused me to swerve and crash the car that my mother and I were in. I flashed my lights at them and honked the horn. They raced off, which led me to believe that they did it on purpose. I caught up to them and flipped them off, hoping they could hear my screams but they dared not stare at me for long and sped off again. It was two young kids in a fancy new red car. They quickly sped off again. I tried to keep pace, debating on whether I should call the cops or what I should do. Then they slowed down and the bastard in the passenger side had the gall to show me whatever he was trowing and flips me off and attempts to hit my car again. I swerved. I was tempted to throw something at them or ram my car into them, quite honestly had my mother not been in the same car I would have done that or worse. People like that who have no regard for others’ safety pisses me off. My mom was visibly upset and a little scared. . . my uncle had just died and it just pushed me over the edge but I decided to do something else instead — something I never do. I called the cops, 911 patched me through to state troopers and I explained the situation to her and she had the nerve to say that I probably caused it because I was driving too close to the car. Which wasn’t the case at all but apparently, according to that state trooper, if you drive close to a car it’s okay for them to chuck whatever inanimate objects they have at you. It’s your fault that you were too close. She swore she wasn’t accusing me of anything but how else am i to take it? She said to back away from them and that they would see if they had any troopers in the area and they would see what they could do. This honestly made me contemplate beating the crap out of the kids even more. It’s quite scary when you can’t trust in people who are sworn to protect you and they blame you instead. Hello, I’m calling you for help before they either kill me or vice versa and all you can do is accuse. Fuck. I provided them with the necessary description and license plates, but I honestly doubt anything would come of it. I had a friend tell me that even if they found them they would just get a smack on the hand because these kids were in a fancy new car, in Oklahoma, and white. If that’s the case, it’s a sad that race still pays a determining factor on what would determine your punishment.


The sudden death of my Uncle did allow me to reflect on a lot of things. I realized that out of fear I was holding back on my relationships/friendships. I was afraid to get hurt and never made my best effort.

I had attempted to reach out to a friend and things didn’t go as planned and it was awkward and when she didn’t respond to a message I decided to just remove myself from the equation. Letting go was hard because I always wanted her to be the one I could go to but I could never depend on her. I realized I never said anything when it bothered me because I was afraid to lose a friend, so the anger and disappointment built up until the point I couldn’t forgive. I justified her excuses from time to time because I wanted it to be one of those friendships that would last until my grey hairs were dyed pink, but alas I couldn’t hold onto a friendship that we both eventually half-assed. I’m of course not blameless. I got so used to having no friends that it was hard to transition to having friends. Even now, it’s not something I’m completely adjusted to. If you’re reading this, Greta, I hope you know that I cherished our friendship dearly. You were the friend that I dreamed of having when I was younger. Someone that was just like me, who I could adventure with and be completely stupid with. I truly wish we could have been better friends to one another because we could have been an amazing pair of old grannies hanging around in matching track suits, yelling at the youth and it’s stupid trends. I wish you the best in life and hope that everything goes amazingly well for you.



In 4 hours my alarm clock will begin blaring, yet here I am wide awake stuck in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. I long for sleep but all I manage to do is toss and turn. No matter what I do, sleep eludes me. Reading normally helps to quell the thoughts or serves as a sweet lullaby, but not tonight.

Two nights ago, death came knocking. It sought no life that wasn’t ready, but whether one is ready or willing it’s never easy for those that remain behind to mourn. I know, for some, the death of a pet means nothing significant — but I beg to differ.

In 2005, my dad died suddenly and we drove 15 hours south to my sister’s for the funeral. That night we heard a piercing cry coming from under the house and it seemed to have no end in sight. After a short time, we got some flashlights and I crawled under her house and discovered that her dog had given birth to 3 puppies. I thought the cries had come from her giving birth but when I was set to walk away I heard the cry again and discovered that one of the pups was by himself. I tried reuniting him with his mother, but she refused to nurse him. I tried several times but each and every time she refused to accept him. I begged, supplicated and yelled. Nothing helped. Eventually, I accepted defeat and broke down and cried for the pup, my dad, and myself. After a brief crying spell, something took over and I refused for death to claim another life. I would not allow it. I made it my mission to ensure the survival of this pup and, in retrospect, I think I needed something to live for. I drove to the store and bought formula and a bottle and nursed him. The following day, I took him with me to Mexico for the funeral and rarely parted from his side. I was worried that, when crossing the border, they would discover him and refuse him entry but they never even noticed he was in the car. He made it home with me to Kansas and I named him Lucky. Nothing could separate me from his side. I fed him and cuddled him, he was my baby and I wanted him to live. We made it past the toughest part and he had just begun to open his eyes. I was ecstatic. When I went to work or school my brother watched him. One day, which I cannot describe what day or what I’d done but I can remember getting home and my brother telling me that he’d accidentally hurt him and Lucky wouldn’t stop crying. He had sat on Lucky, it was almost comical to hear but when I heard Lucky crying and cringing in pain. . . I knew he would not make it. I forced him to take him to the vet, but I could not bear to go with him. He came home with lucky covered in a small blanket, Lucky had died. I cried as I dug his tiny grave beneath my favorite tree. I cried until I could cry no more. The life that he brought into my life was extinguished. I had nothing in me anymore. I had cried and felt more for Lucky, than I had at my own father’s funeral. Even now, after 8 years, it still hurts having lost him.

When Brandy died, I couldn’t help but feel for my boyfriend’s Mom. She’d had Brandy for 12 years and if my love for Lucky was immense after a mere couple of weeks I could not imagine the pain of losing someone after 12 years.  She was a wonderful dog, she always greeted me with howls and her toothy smile. I don’t know what happens when death claims someone, but I hope that wherever Brandy and Lucky are I hope they’re enjoying themselves and know they are loved and missed dearly. 



These past couple of weeks have been terrible, normally I go into my cave and come out with a couple of scratches and bruises but — for the most part — I am still left standing. Lately, it’s been me going deeper and deeper and finding monsters I had long forgotten existed. It’s been tough putting on a mask that can disguise how I am feeling. I’m a wreck.

I’ve been trying hard to put myself back together again but no matter how much I try, I can’t. I’m not one to show emotion. I hate it and am embarrassed to get caught showing it, so this is not good. I’m also having massive anxiety attacks, for no reason. I make up stupid things in my head and start panicking. I’m angry all the time. I wake up feeling exhausted, as if throughout the night I was in some kind of epically terrible fight to the death. 

To make matters worse, their is family drama. Sigh. I’m a quiet person and I despise drama but I’m not afraid to voice my opinion. Sometimes, I get so tired of faking interest, biting my tongue because my mother asked me to, or because I just don’t want to start drama. But I’m just exhausted and tired of things that I cannot control that I’m going to allow myself to shit all over peoples failed attempts at veiled digs. 

My eldest sister is the worst. She masks her disdain by being condescending and/or smothering her comments with religious self-righteousness. I’m not religious, whatsoever, so she uses this all the time to irritate me. It generally works, but I avoid confrontation for the sake of my Mom and the promise I made to her that I’d attempt to be good. . .  but the potency of that promise is a mere wisp now and I’m willing to let it turn to ash. 

About ten years ago, she and I had a major falling out when her husband passed away. My brother in law was more than just an in law, he was my brother and father figure. So, when he passed I lost more than just an in law and it hurt more than I could ever put into words. When he passed I had just turned 16 and I was mad at him, for reasons that I’ve long forgotten. I’m sure it was stupid because I was a teen, depressed and reckless.

When he passed, I stayed to help her with things. I remember my depression sinking harder than ever. I think, a lot of it had to do with the fact that I now had a valid reason on top of my pointless depression. I skipped school a lot and was very suicidal. I had survivors guilt. I had attempted suicide multiple times before his passing and failed, yet he who had goals and wanted to live was gone and I was still here and still wanting to be dead. It wasn’t fair. It became so bad that my sister, who was grieving, had to intervene and I went to a therapist and they threatened to lock me in the psych ward because I was burdening my sister who had just lost her husband. Imagine being 16 and hearing this, i quickly pretended to be okay and decided to leave my sister and not burden her further. I wasn’t in the right to feel depressed, or so they said.

I left for a week or two and felt bad because I was the one doing all the things for my sister and decided to go back to help her. I remember my arrival vividly because I had a dream of my brother and he warned me before I knew. Less than 3 months after my brother in law passed, my sister had moved on. I had expected it to happen in time but not less than 3 months later, especially not with the local scum who had attempted to rape her when they were younger. My sister changed, a lot. And my brother in laws’ things began to disappear and she became insufferable. She began attempting to buy me things to soften the blow of her telling me what had been going on.  I’m never impressed by fake flattery or by being bought. I did not approve of this man nor of her dating so soon, after all she had just lost her husband of ten years.

 At first, she was nice. But then, I remember finding e-mails of him insulting me and she defended him and agreed that I was a loser. He said we wanted to see her fail and be miserable and didn’t care about her happiness. When I approached her about it, she became a monster. We began arguing all the time and then my depression began to bother her, she would yell at me for crying or locking myself in the room. She became mean and hurt me more than I’ll allow myself to admit. She said that my brother in law never loved any of us and that he only tolerated us for her and when things would get really bad she would tell me to just lock myself in my room and kill myself. Every time she said this, I tried with more fervor. I stole her car, dropped out of school, broke everything in my room, experimented with drugs and alcohol. I became someone I never wanted to be. The only times we spoke was either to fight or she would try to buy an apology from me. Eventually, she kicked me out but I was fortunate to have her best friend let me stay with her.

I didn’t speak to my sister for years. It still hurts, a lot. She ended up marrying the Douche and I eventually forgave her.  Mainly for my mother’s sake, though, she likes to believe that she forgave me because God is on her side. Yet, it’s funny how though she strongly believes in forgiveness every time I say something that’s not to her benefit she throws these digs at from the past but I who she criticizes for not being religious have never done that to her. . .  I won’t lie, I love my sister and have forgiven her for things she’s done in the past but I just can’t deal with her shit any longer.  Or anyone’s for that matter, I just have too much going on to have to deal with someone else’s shit. I don’t speak a word to the douche, to me he’s invisible and I will never treat him as if he were a person worthy of me wasting my breath for. 

Expecto Patronum

Go figure, less than 4 hours before I have to wake up and here I am blogging to hopefully keep my mind off the anxiety attack that I’m having. Blegh. 

I found out a person from work was found dead in their apartment. I’ve been obsessing about it and I don’t know why, perhaps a part of me feels guilty? I’m not entirely sure. I never got along with her and to be frank, although our interaction was minimal, she was always rude. I feel bad about it though. Maybe because I don’t feel sympathy, when I should. Someone out there lost a sister, a friend, a daughter. I should feel a little sad about the situation but I just can’t help but feel nothing. I guess that’s what I feel terrible about. 

I would hope that the day I die I’m not remembered in a bad light, not that I’m a saint but I’d like for people to have at least one nice thing to say about me. Mainly, I would hope that people remember me as someone who did something with themselves. I know I still have a lot to accomplish in this life, so much has still been left undone/unsaid. I don’t know why but I’ve been so afraid to do a lot of things that I want to do. I suppose, I’m afraid of failing but I shouldn’t be. Failure is a sure sign that I tried. I’m positive that I’d rather fail than live my life in doubt.

The reality of it all is I’m not getting any younger and I would hope the day that I die I have accomplished a lot of the goals I’ve set for myself. But first, I realize that I have to move past the depression, the anxiety, the fear. Maybe, I have to remind myself that death is eventual and that the more that I let the fear dictate or limit my actions the closer I am to the end with nothing to show for it.

As unfortunate as it is, I realize that my life will never be that of a character in a novel. I have to realize that I will never possess magical abilities nor battle evil dark lords but I do have my own version of dementors to defeat and perhaps that’s adventure enough. When my final chapter closes, I just want to know that I have lived. I would have loved to save or at least change the world but I don’t think I could ever do that if I can’t change how I live mine. 

I think it’s time for some major life changes and I hope this is not a late night – sleep deprived rant but a step in the right direction. For now, I will settle in getting some sleep but tomorrow I’m going to try to be more positive and make sure to seize each opportunity that life grants me. I know it’s going to be a difficult transition because this is not the first nor the second time I’ve come to this realization. . . but it doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t keep trying until I get it right.

As Dumbledore said, “It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.”


I keep erasing everything I type, unsure of how to start this entry. I feel like this blog has become my greatest friend. One I can share the pictures I take — with no judgment — and share my adventures and all the good aspects of my life but fear showing anything but that could result in losing a good friend. But today’s events has made me reconsider a lot of things. 

An acquaintance of mine passed away last night, and though I wasn’t relatively close to her it was quite shocking and truly unsettling. She had a son and had only briefly been married. It was quite sudden and unexpected. I’m at a loss of what to say, other than that it’s tragic and very sad. 

It has made me realize that tomorrow is not guaranteed and any one of your loved ones could be gone the day after tomorrow. I’ve always been one to hold grudges and never forgive, but the last time that I did that I lost someone very close to me and to this day live to regret that. I don’t want that again. It’s going to be ten years, in a week, since he’s been gone and to this day we miss him terribly and will live forever knowing that I never got to express how I truly felt. I don’t wish that upon anyone, ever. 

I suppose, what I’m trying to say is. It’s time to grow up and stop holding grudges. I have a wonderful life and it’s not worth holding on to that negativity. I love the people in my life. My mother, sisters, brothers, friends and my wonderful boyfriend. I don’t want a day to go by without them knowing how truly grateful I am to have them in my life. 

Grave Encounter

Wow! My head is still reeling from the amazing feedback I’ve gotten from my last post. I appreciate and am very thankful for each kind word or criticism, it’s an amazing feeling to have you all appreciate my photographs. It makes me all warm and fuzzy and then to be featured — it was like downing a pint of butterbeer. Or so I imagine that’s what the feeling would be like. 

Last night, I went to a Halloween Murder Mystery Party and had a blast. My boyfriend and I went dressed up as The Bride of Frankenstein and Frankenstein’s Monster. Unfortunately, not many pictures of us were taken but here’s one I thought I would share. Image

Since, I haven’t been on any adventures this week I thought I’d post some previous ones that I took of my friend at a cemetery. I thought it fitting since Halloween’s in a couple of days. ImageImageImageImageImageImageImageWe took these in late May, she wanted to do something with her old wedding dress and I wanted to take pictures at a cemetery — so we combined both ideas and this was the result.ImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageThe cemetery was beautiful and had tombstones dating back to the late 1800s. It was marvelous. ImageImageImageImageImageImage


Autumn, rambles, death

Autumn is such a morbid season yet despite the morbidity their’s a beauty in the decay. ImageImageFall is not a good season for me, it’s always been marked by death and I don’t mean the dying plants. I’ve lost many people to this season. I cannot help but get depressed when this time comes around. ImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageSpeaking of death in Autumn, here’s the dismembered hoof of a deer I found. I would post something significant about life and death and how it’s a circle of life and insert an Hakuna Matata or two but my thoughts are running rampant — more so than usual. It’s Midnight, I’m exhausted and I’m feeling cavelike. ImageImageImageImageImageThere’s a photobomber in this picture, I didn’t even realize it when I took the picture. haha.ImageSince, I’m still here. Here’s the uplifting part of death. . .though death is permanent and likely to occur to us all. . . yeah. . . well that just depressed me more. Here’s a turtle. That should cheer me up.Image Life. Yes, we’re still alive so make the most of it and appreciate those around you for you never know when your time will come and nothing is left but a hoof.