"Storm: Sunlight Between Clouds"

Friday, 31 May 2013

"Storm: Sunlight Between Clouds"

I've not seen enough of this world yet.
I've climbed the stairwells
from where one hears bells
like chimes in the fall.
I've walked down halls
Where whispers echo louder than footsteps
but I've often fancied fresh air.
Flags billow in the wind like wet hair;
Following the cadence of her storm clouds.
The sky screams loud in exuberance
Just to mark emerging weather.
A mother just received a love letter.

I've seen parting gifts
In the form of best wishes,
Gut wrenching goodbyes
that swiftly follow last kisses
And tears that drown the deliberate.
Yet her raindrops have a jovial taste.
Amid the hardships she's faced
Is a shining sign of grace.
So flushed her face within it all.
Through the squalls and torrential
Lies something so instrumental.
A mother's touch so gentle.

Fragile in her grasp,
his hand slowly clasps her finger.
Her power surely lingers in his grip.
Lips curve to form a smile.
Her in disbelief. His so pure and sweet.
Befuddled nearly but clearly content,
Her contempt for the past fled
The moment she kissed his forehead.
It surely takes more than a glimpse
to hold fast to one's future.
He embraces her warmth
As if he already knew her.

Familiar their connection.
So fervent her protection
That she would allow him time
With the bells and wind chimes.
He's moved gracefully within her mind
For what I'd consider a lifetime
And yet nothing quite compares
With him being there.

I've not seen enough of this world yet.
I've been initiative and bystander.
I've flung mud and fought slander
With every inkling of candor
but if there is more to say,
I will surely rue the day
That any slight or display
Of disrespect should come their way.

I've so much to see.
I know it's not my place
To know what is for me;
But one day hopefully,
I too will know the feeling.
I hope to know that joy.
I hope to share that smile
Between parent and child. †

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

For Evelyn And Ashton.

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Sweet Made Sweeter

Hey there. Guess who's back, back again? No, it's not Shady, just me.

Why am I back, you ask? Well, I just had an experience I need to share.

You see, I'm not the biggest fast food person in the world. Do I love it? Heck yes I do. There's no question about it. However, when I've got myself a little bit of the drunchies (drunk munchies), it's nearly impossible for me to stay away from the drive thru of, say, Wendy's. Same goes for the day after a night of drinking. I'm a firm believer that there's not a hangover that stands a chance against a cheeseburger with fries and a fountain Dr. Pepper.

Todayyyy, however, today that changed.

After a long day at work, my best friend Kelly and I are headed to catch a 7:30 showing of the Hangover 3 tonight (so excited, by the way). We had to get ourselves a dinner we knew would be quick and delicious... and light on the wallet since it's costs a first born child to go to the movies these days.

We chose Wendy's because, really, all I wanted for dinner was to dip their fries in a Frosty.
And that's exactly what I did. Only I got a little crazier and tried out their new Frosty Waffle Cone. Deeelish.

You know, I kind of love these days.

Shout out to you Wendy's, thanks a bunch for making the end of my day sweeter.

*This is a sponsored post by Wendy's but all opinions and calories gained are mine. 

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Not So Vital Things I Learned From My Exes

Let's all just take a moment and start this post out by dancing because guess what? IT'S FRIDAY! I don't care if it was a short week or not, Friday is Friday and that is always damn exciting.

So, yesterday a few of you continued to tell and/or lecture me on how I shouldn't give my exes so much credit on my blog. While I do stand by what I posted yesterday, I do think a lot of you were on to something. 

Today I give you the not so vital things I've learned from my exes.
Or maybe they're actually very vital... you decide. 

Mr. Just Plain Wrong

He taught me that if you just flat out don't connect with someone, everything will appear wrong. Always. I probably realized this was happening somewhere around when even the way he laughed was obnoxious to me. Worse than nails on a chalkboard, for sure. There was really nothing totally wrong with Mr. Just Plain Wrong... Unless you're me, that is. 

Mr. Personality

He taught me that even though you may really enjoy someone's personality, if you aren't physically attracted to them it's not going to end well. And I know, I know, that makes me sound horrible but when you're hanging out with someone a lot and all you can do is think about how not attracted to them you are, it's never going to work. I like to think the silver lining on this one is that if you're truly attracted to someone's personality, you will be attracted to them physically. Obviously Mr. Personality wasn't quite the one for me. 

Mr. D Bag

Oh, oh, where to begin with this one? Well, for starters... NEVER date a Gator when you are a 'Nole. It'll never work, not just for your love for dueling teams, but for reasons much deeper. This one taught me a lot. Mostly, if someone disrespects you from the start, they'll do it forever and it will continue to get worse. And worse. And worse. Also, don't ever let someone take you away from your friends. They'll be the ones to pick you back up when Mr. D Bag brings you down to points in your life you never want to be apart of ever again.

Don't let anyone ever dull your sparkle. 

Sir Bangs A Lot

Yeah, I went there. This one is pretty simple and it goes a little something like this... Once a cheater, always a cheater. No matter how many times they deny it, you just listen to that gut feeling you've got going on. It's right, 99.9999% of the time. Yep. Yup. Done son. Bye.

Mr. Mama's Boy

Dating a mama's boy might have been one of the hardest relationships of my life. I say "here's some Tylenol for your headache", he says "my mom says Advil is better".... COOL. This one taught me that even the ingredients in your chili will suck if they aren't exactly like mama's. Holy turn off McGee. 

And that wraps up my week of talking exes... which I didn't actually intend on doing but I blame today on those of you from yesterday who wanted me to elaborate on the douchery and not the good. Isn't that the fun of having a public blog, after all? haaa! 

Ok, ok... Let's back our azz's up, shall we? 

This week I'm taking it a little electric dance for you because I can't get enough of this jam! Enjoy.

It's #backthatazzup Friday!

The purpose: To start our weekend with some fantastic jams.

The station that inspired it: "Back That Azz Up" on Pandora Radio.

The rules: Link your jams up and have a jam sesh with all of us!

Happy Friday!
Grab a button, pick your jam, link up and let's get this weekend started off on the right foot!

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Vital Things I Learned From My Exes

Thursday, 30 May 2013

So, here's the deal about today.

Today I have another post that I have to post but being the overly prepared and organized blogger we all know that I am, I seem to have forgotten to take photos for said post and now it will have to wait to go live until I can get off work and do the damn thing. I'm still going to write a post anyways though... because it's what I love to do.

And also, I miss my readers. Is that weird? Probably.

Maybe this is why I shouldn't let my Erin Condren planner continue to collect dust. What would the fun in that be though? None, that's what.


Moving on, I was doing a little blog reading yesterday (weird, right?) and I stumbled across a post that I just couldn't help but to love. Like, love love. It was pretty clever and now I'm stealing it but please promise you'll go visit the mastermind behind it, Tami from Friday Morning Buzz, and say hello to her. She's really awesome and she's letting me be a copycat so that makes her even awesomer. (yes, that's a word.)


As we all know, I'm rocking the single life like it's nobody's biznass. I've got it pretty much down to a Science and it's actually pretty fun at this point. Which is actually a weird thing for me to say because I've been tied to different serious relationships for what feels like since 2nd grade.

That brings me to today's post.
Let's talk about some vital things I've learned from some of the asshats I've dated.

Key West is an absolute booze fest. 
Seriously though, I thought I was actually going to die. I had a hangover that caused me to take about a month of drinking absolutely anything alcoholic off. It's a great time but just be careful with those Fat Tuesday frozen drinks of death. They'll getcha.

Electronic dance music is the shit.
Prior to one of the idiots I dated, I never really listened or got into dubstep and all of that beat dropping everyone was all pumped up about. Now? Now it's pretty much my go-to when I'm getting ready to go out. Well, right behind #backthatazzup... of course.

Side note: This picture makes me laugh out loud every time I look at it.

What actually happens during a football game.
I know, I know, it's slightly horrifying to think about but I used to have no clue what was happening or what anything meant during a football game. When I was up at Florida State, I pretty much just went to the games because that's what everyone did after the tailgate happened. Then I dated a football player and figured it all out. Can I get an amen?

Delirium is delicious beer. 
And it get's you pretty buzzed nice and quickly because it's high in alcohol content. That's really all I have to say about this one.

Chips with cheese is the greatest bachelor food ever.
I once had an ex who called this his "specialty", which is laughable considering it doesn't exactly take a damn rocket scientist to figure out how to make it. You literally lay out some tortilla chips on a plate, sprinkle a shit ton of shredded cheese on top and then nuke it in the microwave for about 30 seconds. Sometimes though, it just hits the spot. De-lish-us.

Use some Pam on your key if your lock is stuck.
One time I had a lock on my house that would literally take me 5 damn minutes to get my key into because it was so stuck. Then I started dating some idiot and he told me to get the Pam out... which was about the time I looked at him like he was about to try some really weird shit, if you catch my drift. Turns out, all you have to do is spray a little on your key and wha-bam, key fits in it's hole again (that's what she said).

Entourage is a seriously amazefest show.
I could watch Entourage for hours and hours and then some more hours. Whyyy did it have to go away? Can. Not. WAIT for the movie. Who's with me?

Last but not least,
Don't let anyone ever dull your sparkle.
I don't know if this one technically counts but it needs to be said. Boom done.

Yoga pants over and out.
Well, at least until later tonight. No one tell the one-post-a-day police on me.

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Elevator Small Talk

Wednesday, 29 May 2013

Lord help me, I've got a slight rant today.

What had happened was, a couple of months ago at work my office went from being in a little historic house to a high rise tower in the heart of Downtown. At first I thought this was pretty cool but that feeling faded faster than my sobriety on my 21st birthday did.
The sole reason for this decrease in feelings towards my fancy high rise office?

Elevator small talk.

Hate. Loathe. Despise. Chris Brown.

Honestly, I'm a friendly person, at least I am on most days, but there is absolutely nothing about uncomfortable small talk with a stranger at 8am that I want to be apart of. Ever. Unless you're an attractive male... but that doesn't happen too often. Unfortunately.

Plus, the attractive ones don't want to participate in the small talk either. No, it's the old men who wear way too much cologne, have creepy mustaches, and probably drive an unmarked white van with no back windows. Those are the ones who want to talk about coffee consumption and the weather while you're just trying to chug down your coffee and shake off your hangover.

The worst part of it all is that you're just stuck and confined in those 4 walls, watching the numbers rise and rise, wishing your office wasn't so damn high up in the tower. You can sit there and pretend you're playing on your phone all you want but we all know phones don't work in the elevator, so now you're just the asshole avoiding everyone.

I digress.

Luckily on most days, the creepers in suits look at me like I'm an alien because, well, we all know what my typical work attire consists of (hint: the name of this blog). Those judgers keep to themselves and that's my idea of a great day... but that's another story for another time.

Time for me to go catch up on this pile of work stacked on my desk.
Here's to hoping I can avoid the classic end of the day small talk... which I usually avoid anyways once I throw the old "is it happy hour yet?" awkwardness out there.

Which reminds me... is it happy hour yet?

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Class is back in session.

Tuesday, 28 May 2013

Oh, hey there. It's good to see you, blog.
It's also good to see that I'm not the only one who decided to take the day off from blogging yesterday. I would have felt pretty guilty about it if everyone else showed up for class while I was busy pool side with a frosty Shocktop in hand.

My weekend was pretty much everything I wanted it to be and then some, which brings me to the misery that is being in my desk chair instead of a pool chair today. Really though, do any of you plan on being productive today? Just writing this post today is about as productive as it's going to get for this girl today, count on it.

I wasn't even a good blogger over the 3 day weekend which makes today's post about eleventy bazillion times harder because I don't have much to bring to show and tell today. Faily, fail, fail, I know. Here's all I took photos of this weekend:

Well, I had one more but it's of Ella humping a neck pillow and I didn't really think that needed to make it's way on my blog. It's bad enough that it made it to le twit machine. For that, I apologize. Really.

Basically, there was a whole lot of pool action, a little bit of boozing, and as much relaxation as humanly possible. Which is probably why I am the head pilot of the struggle bus today. Small details. I don't think I'm alone on said bus of struggle today, that's the good news.


Anywhoodlums, I'm failing pretty miserably at making sense out of a post today. What's new? I suppose I should now go off now and attempt to at least pretend I'm productive. Wish me luck.

And also blame Sami for her awesome damn link up and the reason I just published such a pointless post. Yep, it's all her fault. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

See ya tomorrow. Hopefully I have something better to feast your brains with. I make no promises though.

Oh, oh! PS. Big shout out to all who serve and have served for this awesome country. You're the bombdiggity. Yes, I went there.

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Happy Braty Dad

Joe's birthday was a couple of weeks ago. After dinner we celebrated with some cake and ice cream. When we finished it was time to start getting the kids ready for bed. Kayla was lingering at the kitchen table with a pen and paper. Joe glanced over her should to see what she was doing and saw she had written the letter "H". He then went about finishing cleaning up the kitchen.

A few minutes later Kayla proudly brought him this piece of paper. She had obviously attempted to write, "Happy birthday Dad."

To appreciate the significance of this, the shock as Joe and I stared at this, the excitement as we kept asking Kayla, "You wrote this?! All by yourself? You didn't ask for any help?!" You have to understand how Kayla usually writes things when left to her own devices.

She loves to have a piece of paper and something to write with. She would write notes or lists all day long. She can write all the letters of the alphabet, she can write words, she can fill in the blanks when going over her study guides from school, she can write her spelling words ... but on her own ... she simply won't write.

Her writing becomes just lines and scribbles. Nothing legible at all. The most that she will write on her own are the words Kayla, Lucas, Mom, Dad and very rarely something like cat or dog or another small sight word that she knows. Also rare, but has happened on occasion, she'll ask us how to spell something.

I would be happy if she just made random letters all over the page in an attempt to write actual words, and we have encouraged/asked her to do so while she's doing her so-called writing, but she refuses. 98% of the time she simply won't attempt to write any other real words, sounding them out, or or just writing letters to form words.

So when Joe showed me this I kept asking him if he just spelled out the letters for her. He insisted he didn't. He didn't know what she was doing at the table, he figured it was her usual scribbling. I didn't said I didn't even know she could spell 'happy' by herself.

As I was talking with her that night at bedtime she seemed to be telling me that she wrote it at school with Mr S, her aide in the classroom. So then I thought it came out of her backpack. But she told me consistently that she wrote it at school AND at home. And Joe said he saw her write the "H" on the paper at the kitchen table.

I emailed her teacher and she didn't know if the aide had worked on this with Kayla, but did say Kayla seemed to mention all day long that it was her dad's birthday so it's possible Mr S was writing that with her.

Even if she didn't completely do this on her own with no guidance ... she did still take what she did at school, retained that info, and on her own at home without asking for help, attempted to recreate writing Happy Birthday Dad. While she didn't quite get "birthday" she was at least in the ball park as the letters she did write down are in the word birthday; they weren't completely random letters.

She didn't just write scribbles and lines on the paper and tell Joe she wrote Happy Birthday. She put some effort in to making real words. She wrote something unprompted by us.

For us, this was huge.

 

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Happy #backthatazzup Friday!

Friday, 24 May 2013

Let's make today short and simple. For the sake of what seemed like the longest week ever and also for a 3 day weekend. Can I get a hallelujah?!

Here's a list of the jams I can't get enough of lately. Listen, enjoy, and most of all jam out!


This song talks about Fireball whiskey at one point, an obvious favorite.

I heard this song a few weeks back and went on a search for it for what felt like forever. I finally found it this week and I'm hooked.

I've recently decided that I'm in love with Kip Moore. This song has a lot to do with it.

And last, but not least, this song has apparently been around forever and I'm just now getting around to it. Either way, I'm all about it. Listen to it on a nice day, while driving with your windows down. It's purely blissful.

Clearly my music taste makes about as much sense as I do on most days. My playlists are all very much a smorgasbord of music, I like to keep things interesting.

It's #backthatazzup Friday!

The purpose: To start our weekend with some fantastic jams.

The station that inspired it: "Back That Azz Up" on Pandora Radio.

The rules: Link your jams up and have a jam sesh with all of us!

Happy Friday!
Grab a button, pick your jam, link up and let's get this weekend started off on the right foot!

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End of Preschool

Thursday, 23 May 2013

My baby 'graduated' from preschool on Monday. I can't believe that in just over 2 months Lucas will be starting Kindergarten.

We were cuddling Monday morning and I said exactly that to him .. about my baby graduating preschool.

Of course he corrected me, "I'm not a baby!"

"I know you're not, but you're MY baby. You'll always be my baby." I told him.

When he asked why he would always be my baby I told him "Just because. You'll just always be my baby even when you're grown up. And there are no more babies in the house. You're the last one. No more other babies to grow up and graduate from preschool."

So he tells me, "Well you could always just grow another one."











 

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5 Things Frowned Upon in Real Life That Are Acceptable in Blogging

Hey there, blog. Today is Thursday, AKA Friday eve, and if that alone isn't enough to put me in a good mood, the fact that I got NINE solid hours of sleep last night does. I don't think I've slept that well since I was a small baby. Can I get an amen?

Even better than all of that is that I came up with a post topic while driving to work this morning, which usually never happens because I'm always foggy brained. Not today. No, nope, nada!

I was listening to my morning radio show and there was a commercial with one of the radio personalities promoting Steak and Shake like they had just introduced her to a calorie free burger. I mean, she was really getting into it and how amazefest Steak and Shake is.

And this is where I almost started judging her but then I realized something...
As a blogger, I have absolutely no grounds to judge such a thing. I do it. Most of my blog friends do it. I mean, getting offered things in exchange for your opinion is pretty cool and slightly flattering, as far as I'm concerned.

Unless said product you're given to review is natural rodent repellent. Yes, you read that right. I was given the grand opportunity to review rodent repellant. Don't worry, I respectfully declined that one.

Anyways, my point. I have one, I promise.

Blogging has made me look at a few things differently. Things like...

1. Size matters. 

Come on, I know you all hear people throw that term "big blogger" around all of the time. Everyone wants to be big. Just like in real life, only it's typically the male species who are wishing for this one. Ain't no shame, in the land o' blog it's usually the ladies who want to be bigger. 

2. It's okay to have a high number.

Even if people try to tell you it doesn't, when your blog stats are high, it's exciting to see big numbers. The best part about this one is that when your count is big in land o' blog you're not considered a ho bag. Or maybe you are. Whatevs. 

3. Go be a whore. 

Tweet it, Instagram it, Google+ it, Facebook it, whatever it. You go do it and you do it without shame because it's blogging and it's totally acceptable to be a big whore in the name of seeking exposure for your blog. 

4. If ya feeling like a pimp, go'on brush ya shoulders off.

Pimping is also acceptable in the land o' blog and you can't even get arrested for it. How magical? Pimp your friends, pimp your sponsors, pimp your favorite posts. And then go brush ya shoulders off, you blogging gangsta. 

 5. Give it up.

In the land o' blog you can giveaway all of your goodies and people will do all kinds of things for said goodies. How great is that? You want your Facebook page's number to get higher? You better start scheming and give those goodies away. Goodies for everyone, go give it up! 

And that, my friends, is a short list of some things you can do in the land o' blog that you can't necessarily do in real life. Or maybe you can but I'm not sure it's technically recommended. 

I'll let you decide that one.  

**As always, this post is meant to be read in a sarcastic tone. Please don't be offended or look to far into what I've written. It's all in good fun, I promise.**

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It's Not An Adjective

Wednesday, 22 May 2013

1.) She's blond.
2.) The short boy.
3.) She is blue-eyed.
4.) She's Down syndrome.
5.)  The blind lady.
6.) He is deaf.
7.) The European guy.

One of these sentences is not like the others; it's not grammatically correct and it is incorrect in its usage and description.

That sentence, of course, is any variation of "she's Down syndrome/she's Downs/she is Down syndrome."

(This isn't about People First Language either: Putting the person before the diagnosis. Saying "people with Down syndrome" instead of "Down syndrome people." Because saying "She is Down syndrome." IS putting the person first).

So why is it ok to say "She's blond. She's blind. She's European." but it's NOT ok to say "She's Down syndrome."?

Because all of those other words are descriptors. They are adjectives.

Down syndrome is not an adjective. The word syndrome by itself is not an adjective either. They are nouns.

Yes, Kayla is blond, no, she is NOT Down syndrome. She isn't a group of symptoms. She isn't her diagnosis. She HAS Down syndrome and there is a difference.

You don't say "She's cerebral palsy. She's Crohn's. She's Lou Gehrig's Disease. He's spina bifida." and you don't say, "She's Down syndrome."

You describe people by their hair color, eye color, weight, height, personality, ethnicity because those are descriptors we all have. There is no box to check off Down syndrome or non-Down syndrome.

You don't describe people as their medical diagnosis. You don't say "She's Down syndrome." What does that even mean? She's not of this human race? Is that another category of the human race? It implies some kind of other-ness.

Down syndrome isn't an adjective and shouldn't be used as such.

She's Kayla. She's my blond, straight-haired, blue-eyed, strong-willed, opinionated, lovable, friendly daughter.

She has a medical diagnosis of Down syndrome.


 

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Things I May Never Learn

While brainstorming for something to post here today I rubbed my eyeball, causing my contact to fold up like a paper airplane and dry out just enough to annoy me for the remainder of this work day.

And then I decided it was probably time for another edition of shit I haven't learned in nearly 26 years.


Nearly 26 years and I still haven't learned...

Rubbing your eyeball, which has a contact chilling in it, will cause you misery for the rest of your day. Cut it out, homie. XOXO, your left eyeball.

Sleeping in your makeup is never, ever a good idea. Ever. And you'll always regret it when you wake up the next morning. Especially when you wake up looking like someone tried to induct you into the band Kiss in your sleep. Not a good look.

Putting multiple cuss words together in a sentence that makes little to no sense is always a great way to look like a crazy person. Even if it does relieve stress.

Going back to an ex is pretty much always a horrible idea. There's a reason they're an ex. Set it and forget it!

Picking up a $3 bottle of wine from Walgreens almost always means you will feel an immense amount of pain and regret the following day.  Light on the wallet, heavy on the angoverhay.

Oversleeping never ends well. The dogs still need to go out, your boss is probably waiting for you, and you look like hell. Just wake up when your alarm goes off and get over it, sister.

There will always be someone who wants to bring you down but you can never let them succeed. You just have to let the negative Nancy's go off and continue to suck the fun out of life in their own corner of the world.

Playing the same song on repeat will eventually get very, very old. Enjoy it when it comes on but let's trying not to repeat it 10 times at a time.
Except for Wagon Wheel... that's the exception, always.

You should always go potty before you paint your nails. Without fail, every single time your nails are wet you've probably got to pee.

When Aaron Carter follows you on Twitter and then tweets you twice, you should not get ecstatic and tell the entire world. Because you are not 12 anymore.

No matter how hard you try to be a rockstar blogger who plans and schedules posts, you just can't do it. You're a roll with the punches, wait until your contact folds up in your eyeball kind of girl. That's all there is to it.

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Living the moments you want to be nostalgic about.

Tuesday, 21 May 2013

Nostalgia is a crazy thing, you know?
I can hear a song and instantly be brought back to an exact time in my life. Usually they're times I would give anything to go back to.

This happened to me recently while I was listening to the Morning Glory album by Oasis. I was drowning in every song, wishing I could go back to my senior year of high school when things were so simple and easy. When "I like you" really meant "I like you". When asking your parents for $20 was acceptable. When the thought of drinking beer was disgusting.
Ok, not the last part. You know that was a lie.

It's funny though, this song used to be suicidal to my heart for so many years, after the great fall of my ever so serious high school relationship. Now? Now I can hear it and smile. I smile because it's almost enjoyable to be able to think back on the roller coaster of emotions one song has made me feel over the course of 10 years.

Woah, 10 years. That's crazy.

Really though, there was a time when that song instantly brought on t-rex sized butterflies and there was a time when it brought on instant ugly girl cries. Obviously I'm a very stable person, as we all know.

So, while I was thinking through all of these feelings, as some of my old school favorites were flooding my ears, it kind of hit me... Those were great times, yes, but I'm still living my great times. I love my life right now and even though things might be completely different, a shit ton bit harder, and slightly (ha) more complicated, I've got a lot to be happy about.

There will be songs from right now that will effect me in 5 years when I'll look back and reminisce on today and I know that I'll feel equally as nostalgic as that Oasis album makes me feel in this moment.

I guess, really, that's what it's all about.
Living the moments you want to be nostalgic about later in your life.
Not letting time get the best of you, but getting the best of your time.

And that's the end of today's Whitney brain vomit. Over and out.

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"The American Plague"

Monday, 20 May 2013

"The American Plague"

No room for the nervous
When you're underrated on purpose.
Purpose by societal definition?
Overkill of cheap thrills
Induced by purveyors of pills.
Happy candy for the sad we.
Sadly basking in the glee
Of the Technicolor shapes they see.
Their splendor but a brief celebration.
Conquest for not much more than the score.
Would divide tribes
To be conquered by factions.
Swift in pursuit of bitter fruit
Yielding side effects and delayed action.
They tend to the bars;
Spreading the black tar
Just to chase the dragon.
Residue and fingertip scars.
Fell far from grace.
Mirrors hold too much to embrace.
No yearning for a silhouette to trace.
Attention drawn to an aging face
And they are barely middle-aged.
Would inhale a can of mace
If it meant another taste.
Briskly sporadic in pace.
Heart racing faster
Than the cadence of their tone.
They would rather be alone;
Left to fade into that zone.
Mind and body faded.
Intricate like hair braided
But they will conceal the roots.
No one reveals the truth.
Rarely around to request it.
Adopted as the norm
Until it remotely harms
But it was always a swarm.
Support replaced by slander.
Taught to mind our manners
But we treat junkies like crap.
Addicts get the scraps
But can't eat them at our table.
So willing and able
To invoke the need for labels
When we share their categories.
Unfamiliar stories.
Tales so damn specific
Yet we don't see the connection.
Our ignorance is our protection.
We wield this heavy shield
fortified with the implied:
That which we would let ride
Long as it isn't inside.
God forbid.
Raising a gifted kid
With such lofty expectations
And the potential to change the nation.
They dare to change their destination.
No longer drawn towards your bevy.
How long before the heart is heavy
At the sight late night
Of a daughter under the influence
Or a son more thief than nuisance?
How much remains in house?
Arguments with your spouse.
Had to hide your purse
because your child sees your prescription
As peace offering from the nurse.
High school drop out shut off;
Cut off from acceptance.
Negligence never presumed as a factor
Viable enough to make perfect sense.
Since the earliest inception,
Contact viewed as a connection
But it lacked impact and passion.
Listening became a latent action.
We scoff at the criminal
and often judge the prostitute
but our children need their fix;
So this is where it constitutes.
Few things are black and white.
Debate well into the night
Over which race got it right.
Similarities will surely be disclosed.
We hate the owners of our stores
But not more than doing chores.
We sit drinking on the porch
Raising bottles like a torch
to every neighbor passing by.
We sit and wonder why
In place of beginning to think how.
Are we so different now?
Don't lend retort to the rhetorical.
The difference between he, she and we
Is that although he collects the fees
While she is often on her knees,
We are who they've longed to please.
The derelict appear diseased
But we harbor the infection.
No differential diagnosis.

And sadly,

No detection. †

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

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Kayla Answers the Questions

Here are Kayla's answers to the questions I asked Lucas earlier:

1. What is something your mom always says to you? "Kayla's not listening. Kayla's happy listening to mom."
2. What makes your mom happy? "I clip up!" (when she 'clips up' in school meaning she had a good, great, or outstanding day).
3. What makes your mom sad? "Be bad, not listening."
4. How does your mom make you laugh? "Funny."
5. How old is your mom? "100." (then she guessed a bunch of numbers.)
6. How tall is your mom? "2 feet."
7. What is your mom's favorite thing to do? "Work."
8. What does your mom do when you're not around? "You do work."
9. What is your mom really good at? "Making lunch for me."
10. What is your mom not very good at? "School."
11. What does your mom do for a job? "Paperwork."
12. What is your mom's favorite food? "Pizza." (I think she was thinking of herself!)
13. What makes you proud of your mom? "Good job, good day." (I think she turned this around meaning I'm proud of her when she has a good day at school.)
14. What do you and your mom do together? "Homework."
15. How are you and your mom the same? "We're the same girls."
16. How are you and your mom different? "Different shirt and hat."
17. How do you know your mom loves you? "Hug, kiss good morning to school" (I think she means at the bus stop.)
18. Where is your mom's favorite place to go? "Other playground." (Again, answering for herself!)

 

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A weekend for the blogs.

Oh, Monday. Once again you come along like a level 4 hurricane and I should have boarded up my windows but of course I forgot.

I blame this weekend, it was a good one. 

One for the books, or blog, that's for sure. 

Friday night my bestie slash neighbor slash sister from another mister and I ventured into the heart of downtown for some bad decisions, as per usual. 

If you were around the twit machine somewhere during the hour of 10pm, I'm sure you got a gist of the type of night I had. 

And then something magical happened and I ran into Kendahl and Emma while frolicking through my Friday night! Love those two something serious and it's always a good time when they're around. 

Happy hour soon, ladies?

As you can see, I was feeling pretty sassy on Friday night with my leopard shirt... I even had heels on. The hooker kind of heels that clumsy people like me should never attempt to wear. 

Because they usually mean you will end up in the bushes at some point during your night.

And maybe even find some leftover mulch in your hair when you wake up the next day.

Not that I know from experience or anything...

Saturday I was woken up to the bestie banging on my door with a bottle of Andre, or breakfast as she called it, in her hand. The rest of our day was spent by the pool and it was simply everything gorgeous Saturdays are made for.

Bathing suit: Victoria's Secret  |  Sunglasses: 5 dollas on Canal St. in NYC

Fireball Whiskey & Coors Light: ABC Liquor

Sunday I woke up feeling a little fuzzy, if you catch my drift. Luckily I have some kick ass neighbors who know the true way to my hungover heart.... aka a big ass fountain Dr. Pepper delivered right to my door. Ah, I'm a lucky gal. Things like that also make me want to live in my current complex for.ev.errrr.

I was flipping through the TV and soon after found myself knee deep in a Sex and the City marathon which, somehow, inspired me to get out some arts and crafts and play Martha Stewart. 

My supplies are very profesh, if you can't tell from the Miller Lite coaster paint palette. 

First I made myself a quote canvas with my favorite quotes from a movie/book ever, Perks of Being a Wallflower.

Then a couple of hours later I got more inspiration thanks to a lady you all may know as Erin.

And that's a wrap on Whitney's Craft Hour.

I have a feeling this week is going to drag on, mostly because there's a 3-day weekend coming my way and I always anticipate those a little earlier than I should. Either way, if I'm not living in a bikini the entire 3 days, I'm going to consider it a huge fail. Come to mama, Memorial Day! 

Have a fab Monday... if there's such a thing as that. 

I'm out!

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Thick Skin

Friday, 17 May 2013

On March 21, for World Down Syndrome Day, I went to Kayla's school to read the book High Fives and a Big Heart to her class. I also wanted to talk a little bit with her classmates about Down syndrome and what it does and doesn't mean for Kayla. I showed them this picture of her chromosomes and explained about the 3 chromosomes on #21.

I didn't have a lot of time to talk with them, but overall I think it went well.

At the beginning I asked if anyone heard of Down syndrome and what they knew about it. A few hands went up and the first girl I called on answered that her mom told her it was when someone acted younger than their age.

Another girl - J - one of Kayla's friends from the bus and who lives down the street from us, said "It's just a thing."

I like that. Down syndrome is no big deal ... it's just a thing!

I mentioned things that Kayla can still do, things that she likes, and places she's been to show how she is similar to her peers. I asked questions like, "Has anyone been on an airplane? Who likes roller coasters? Who likes to go to the beach?" and each time I saw her classmates all glancing over to see if Kayla was raising her hand to the questions too. I hope it made them see her as more like them than different.

Then I started reading the book. It's written and illustrated by a 4th grade class about Jeffrey, their classmate who has Down syndrome. One part of the book mentions that if anyone is mean to Jeffrey they will stick up for him.

There is a boy in Kayla's class who was sitting in the first row and I heard him mumble, "I wish I had someone to do that for me." An aide in the room quietly said his name and he again mumbled, "What? I'm always getting picked on at recess."

After I finished the book the class had to line up to go to art. As they were doing this, J, the girl I mentioned earlier, walked by me and told me, "Some other kids think Kayla is weird, but I don't think that."

Ouch. She wasn't saying it to be mean. I like J. She has always been friendly with Kayla, they play together outside and she's been inside our house a few times to play. I've wanted to ask her more about that; to ask what kids say about Kayla, to ask what Kayla does that makes other kids think she's weird, but I haven't had the chance.

I also willed myself not to cry as I left the school that day. Of course it hurts to hear that other kids think your kid is weird. Of course I know not everyone will like Kayla (or Lucas for that matter). We're not friends with everyone in our class and it's not realistic to expect that. I know kids can be made whether you have special needs or not (and I was reminded of this fact when I thought about the boy who mumbled out while I was reading the book about wishing he had someone to stick up for him.)

But as a parent your heart still hurts for your child.

I wrote about this experience and how parenting requires thick skin on the website What to Expect. You can read more in my article How My Daughter Helped Me Grow Thick Skin.

 

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Spotify the Snitch

Now that I'm into this blogging thing and I've got my groove going on with it, I just really can't help but love when ridiculous things happen to me because it means I have more material. More material = more blogging. More blogging = more happy readers. More happy readers = euphoria.

Ok, maybe that was slightly dramatic but you get it.
Or maybe you don't.

Anyways, on Wednesday night I walked my happy ass over to the bar I frequent to meet one of my guy friends to play darts and have a few drinks.
Drinks were flowing, I was kicking some ass in darts (or maybe I wasn't... who knows?) and I was having a great time, as usual. No big deal.

Out of nowhere, my friend decides to blast me about a little song choice I made on Spotify earlier that day. He said to me, "Why the (insert explicative here) were you listening to Ashlee Simpson today?".
Here is where I almost broke up with Spotify.

And then I freeze.
Mostly because all of the people I typically hang out with at said bar heard and I knew it was definite means for some serious judgement.
Insert bright red, tomato-like, Whit face here.

Well, one thing that we always do when we go to bars is bust out our TouchTunes app and get some good jams going on the jukebox.
What do you think happened next?

Pieces of Me by Ashlee Simpson streaming through all of the speakers of the bar that I frequent at least 2-4 times a week.
Great.
The death stares, questions, and accusations start as if it was the most offensive thing ever.
Which it very well might have been, if we're being honest here.

Anyways, moral of this story is be careful what you play on Spotify.
Because Spotify is like the snitch in class who always told on you for forgetting to bring your textbook to class.


I digress.


Let's get this party started.

I just can not get enough of this song right now.

Judge me if you would like, it's just pure party in a song.

It's #backthatazzup Friday!

The purpose: To start our weekend with some fantastic jams.

The station that inspired it: "Back That Azz Up" on Pandora Radio.

The rules: Link your jams up and have a jam sesh with all of us!

Happy Friday!
Grab a button, pick your jam, link up and let's get this weekend started off on the right foot!

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