a 6 word memoir

The living definition of “hot mess”

Shrink a Century

Hi sorry that this is long I guess I just miss being 8

Summer, 2006.

Summers as an eight year old were the absolute greatest.  I was somehow a morning person at that time, and would be out of bed and ready to go at the first peep of sunlight streaming through my window.

My neighborhood was filled with kids my own age – my best friends, twins, lived right next door, and up the street there were 3 other families with kids my age, and a girl about my age, Mary, that lived directly behind me.  There was always somebody to play with; all you had to do was go up to their front door and knock.  I spent most days with the twins (the Basses) and Mary.  We had an extensive repertoire of games to play and “adventures” to embark on, and stayed outside basically from sunrise to sunset.

A favorite game was to pick flowers and leaves out of my mother’s garden to make “fairy food” – we would literally spend hours (or what felt like hours) painstakingly arranging little piles of daisies and holly berries into what we thought would be appetizing meals for the fairies that obviously lived in our garden.  Besides that, we would go sit on the sewer in the back yard (I know, a strange place for a sewer) and make mud pies and mud sculptures that we would bake in the hot sun.   After we got bored of playing with plants and mud, we’d usually invent some kind of game with an incredibly complicated plot line (ex. being sailors trapped at sea on a mission to capture “The Great White Whale”, AKA the Basses’s dog), play catch, or run around in the sprinkler.

By now it’s time for lunch, and we’d all gather at one of our houses for a quality meal usually involving chicken nuggets and easy mac.  With lunch complete, we’d be right back outside, oftentimes on bikes which we would take up to Subway to get a cookie – and stop at the vet’s office on the way to see all the animals – or down to the cul-de-sac to “The Tree”.  The tree was just a tiny crab apple in the center of the cul-de-sac, but it was just sturdy enough and just large enough to hold all of us in it’s branches.  If it was a really hot day, my mom would take us all to the local pool, where we’d spend hours splashing around in the crowded water with what felt like hundreds of other sweaty kids.

If the Basses, Mary, and I tired of each other, we would go knock on the other neighborhood kid’s doors and try to get together a huge game of hide-and-go-seek, kick the can, or tag.  These games would take us all over the neighborhood and into backyards of crabby old men that would yell at us to get off the grass, but all in all it was a good time.

If we ever got hungry, popsicles were always available at at least one of our houses, and my mom’s garden always had plenty of sun-ripened cherry tomatoes to eat right off the vine. Strawberry popsicles and sweet cherry tomatoes were the flavors of my summer, as strange as that combination sounds.

Finally, once the sun has set, my dad would usually grill something for dinner, and my family and I would eat out on the deck.  If the night was nice, we might end the day with a bonfire, marshmallows, and firefly hunting.  And then I’d go to bed, only to wake up the next day to do it all again.

 

We all know that this is the only song they would ever play at the pool, at it’s forever engrained in my memory as being an integral part of summer, whether I like it or not.

pals

My best friend and I are polar opposites.  She’s the extravert to my introvert; the type A to my type B; the republican to my liberal…. Basically everything from our tastes in music, television, presidential candidates, clothing, boys, preferred school subjects, the ways we were raised, and what we hope for our futures is different.  And somehow we get along great – we’re always laughing and she knows more about me than anyone else.  Our differences are what bring us closer (such a clique, but it’s true), and we honestly bring out the best in each other…
Except when we’re living together for an extended period of time.
We’re on vacation together now in Florida, with my family (we went with hers last spring break).  These are the times when our differences are highlighted in a more negative way than their usual positive contrast.
Take, for example, our sleep patterns.  She’s an early riser – likes to be up at 7 am at the latest, and is usually passed out by 9:30 or 10.  I TRY to be an early riser, I really do try, but my body says fuck that shit and I end up staying up till 12 or 1 each night and sleeping until 9 or so.  These different schedules are kind of hard to deal with when you have to share a bed.
ALSO.  She is extremely organized and neat, which is great and all, but that’s not how I run.  I don’t like to plan out my entire day; I kind of like to just figure things out on the go, especially when I’m on vacation.  She really likes to have a plan and follow that plan but ugh I just can’t handle that. And the room must be totally neat; bed made, clothes all put perfectly away… GIRL I’m on vacation let me leave my bed unmade
Although I do bitch about the little struggles we have when we’re together for so long, I still love her and I know she loves me too, even though we are definitely annoying the shit out of each other.  But that’s what best friends are for.

beach

general apologies and whatnot, this isn’t organized

Happy for spring break and getting to spend a week on the beach.  I’m usually not a big fan of the beach just because I like to be up and doing things and am definitely a cold weather kind of gal, but after how stressful this semester has been I’m totally content to lay out in the sand for hours at a time.  I love falling asleep to the sound of the ocean and finally getting to feel the sun on bare skin after months spent bundled in sweaters and coats.  And there is so much time to read and think – I read God Help the Child today by Toni Morrison which was so beautifully written, and this evening my best friend and I found a cute little book/record store in Watercolor where I bought 3 more books so I’m set.  I would love to have a business like that little bookshop one day, just not in Florida – somewhere east or west coast, I’m not too picky, that would have used books and good coffee and local art for sale and probably some little plants and odds and ends as well.
Ok back on topic.  The beach is lovely except for the way it makes my self image plummet.  Things didn’t used to be this way but the people I’m around so often speak negatively about their bodies and then the underlying negative thoughts I have about myself are brought up to the surface and I end up getting trapped under all of my insecurities to the point where I despise myself.  Nothing to make you notice your flaws than a bikini and a beach full of perfect bodies.  Actually, a lot of days I like my body and myself, but being around certain people in certain situations just seems to drain me of any confidence in myself I once had.  Comparison really fucking sucks.
But then tonight, around 10, I went out to the beach by myself and climbed up the lifeguard tower.  Not much is more comforting than allowing yourself to feel insignificant and small for a moment, surrounded by blackness and silence penetrated only by the stars and the sound of the sea.

 

 

blogathon

Alright here we go.  The sound of all the typing in this room right now is actually low key terrifying so much anxious typing all at once wow.  But anyway.  Today is a Thursday, a really long one honestly.  School just drags on and on and on all week, same thing day in and day out and I’m 100% over it.  It takes a serious effort to actually show up every day and I’m like one absence away from credit suspension.  So it goes.  So it goes is actually probably my favorite quote, it’s from Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five.  To me, it’s essentially a reminder to not get hung up on the uncontrollable.  People die, you’ll die, so it goes. Awful things happen, so it goes.  Don’t use this as a cop out – like oh, I lost a friend because I was a total dick – whatever, so it goes, I’ll just keep being a dick.  No.  That’s not how it works.  It’s more of a hey, shit happens, awful things happen, and you can’t change that once it’s happened, so move on.  Slaughterhouse Five is a book I should probably read again, I’ve read it twice and get so much out of it each time just about society and our own individual importance and permanence.   School is really a hot mess right now though, I have so many pieces to finish for AP art and I’m actually really starting to resent that class. Art used to be a really great place for me, where I was able to actually relax and enjoy myself, but now I’m under the pressure of producing so many pieces and pleasing so many people that it honestly just gives me a lot of anxiety.  Which is sad.  I wonder how professional artists deal with having to have their work under constant scrutiny and judgement.  I feel like that would just wear on you so much, but I suppose that in the long run you’d come out stronger.  My biggest pet peeve on the entire planet would have to be pretentious assholes.  If I don’t ask your opinion, or it’s not your job to give me your opinion, then PLEase keep your mouth shut.  I don’t give a fuck if you have some new technique or groundbreaking piece of criticism or advice for me or if you’re convinced that you’re god’s gift to this earth and that you need to share your greatness for the peasants that fill your world… please just don’t talk to me, I don’t want you trying to tell me what to do unless I ask.  Thank you!  This song is such a summertime song.  I don’t remember the title off the top of my head but its the “don’t stop till it’s over” song.  I’m actually pretty awful at remembering song titles.  But anyways.  This song!  It reminds me of summer mornings spent hiking through Castlewood with my friends and my dog or just by myself and going paddle boarding at Creve Coure, and swimming in the river, and soft new grass under bare feet, and bbq and late-night bonfires and smores and driving around with the sunroof down at 3am, and popsicles and farmers markets and sunshine and iced tea and the hammock and gorgeous sunsets and fireflies and shooting stars.  AND SHOOT I HAD SO MUCH MORE TYPED BUT I JUST ACCIDENTALLY PRESSED SOMETHING AND ERASED IT ALLLL.  Just more summer memories about the time my friends kidnapped me and we ended up stuck in the mud at sherman beach at midnight but that’s OK because the stars were really gorgeous, and all of those times spent chatting with the guys at Strange Donuts for literally hours, and wandering around parks at night and going to eat good food on South Grand (Lulus is my favorite) and wowwww the Japanese festival and LouFest and all of the farmer’s markets at tower grove and going to the art museum to escape the summer heat and that one day we all really wanted to go to the botanical gardens but it was pouring but we went anyway and spent 2 hours there in the rain and were drenched but it was gorgeous and then we went to Kayak’s for coffee and mission taco and it was an all-around 10/10 day.  My group of friends is really something special that I feel doesn’t happen that often in high school.   I feel like everyone is a truly genuine person, and although we all have different passions and interests we somehow work really well together and wow I love them.   Evenings spent laughing at the wolf or talking around the bonfire, or this one time we went ice skating in Forest Park and then ate falafel that was great.  Honestly falafel will save the world.  Not specifically falafel, but food.  I feel like the super-easy first step to world peace and actually starting to understand/experience/appreciate another person/nation’s culture is through their food.  Places like Lebanon and Nigeria can seem so far away and obscure until you try their food.  It puts relateable personalities and people to the humans living lives so separate from ours.  I’m sorry that this is a huge incoherent mess, I should probably make some separate paragraphs and whatnot, I’ll start that now.

My favorite band right now is The Derevolutions.  I don’t know why.  It’s just all very catchy and upbeat and unique and I love it.  My favorite songs are The One and Now You Know My Name.

The craziest thing I think I’ve ever eaten would have to be Uni.  Uni = sea urchin.  I’m an adventurous eater and will try anything once – I’m anything but picky – but I’ll never ever ever eat this shit again.  I was out for sushi with my friend Emma, and we decided that we wanted to try something really weird… so Uni it is.  The waiter was so confused as to why we’d want to order Uni – he clearly thought it was disgusting, and told us just as much.  “Are you SURE you want that???”
But yes, we had to try it.  And first of all, it was hideous.  Maybe we should’ve realized that something that looks like a slimy pile of dirty mustard shouldn’t be consumed, or the fact that it smelled like the ocean after a bunch of dead stuff gets washed ashore after a storm probably wasn’t a good sign.  But with confidence, we each popped a piece into our mouth… and then our waiter couldn’t contain his laughter as we were hit with the most awful flavor-texture combination of all time.  Uni feels like a slimy tongue, and then you bite into it and it explodes like a gross, oozy gusher, but instead of being a fun fruit flavor it’s just pure regret.  It’s what I imagine a mouthful of sea mud would taste like… a mixture of decay, shit, and rotten fish.  Never again.  Not even a spicy tuna roll could cleanse me of that awful experience.

I’m going to college for business/marketing/graphic design, but ultimately, I would like to own a small business.  It’s something I’ve wanted to do for years, just a cute little shop tucked into some downtown street.  It would be an art gallery, but an approachable one, not a pretentious one, and we’d sell coffee and cute backed goods and have live music and a cat.  Or I could have a popsicle shop that sells only the cutest popsicles.  I would enjoy that.

People watching is my absolute favorite activity. I love making up backstories for all of these random people, be it at school, the coffeeshop, the airport, etc.  Like the man that comes into Kaldi’s that has the glasses and always wears flannel?  He’s currently trying as hard as he possibly can to save up enough money to break out of the midwest and move down to San Fran where he can try to make a life as a freelance artist, but for now he’s stuck working a dead-beat bank job and desperately trying to save every penny but he still lets himself splurge on a latte every now and then.  Or the old man eating alone at ihop.  He’s actually always been alone , never married and now widowed like some may think.  He’s actually a big asshole that leaves 50 cents for a tip and thinks that women are inferior to men and has one ugly cat named Dutchess that is his only friend.