Things I May Never Learn

Wednesday, 22 May 2013

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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