Music Tells My Stories

We all have things that make us happy, things that bring us joy, things that we love to see, feel, and experience. This time of year I always find myself reflecting on some of my favorite things. Christmas for our family was always this amazing experience. Our home was always warm and inviting. My mother worked hard to make our house a home, and every year when Christmas rolled around, she went above and beyond to make our holiday more special than you could ever imagine. Our living room, kitchen, dining room, even our hallways, were decorated with loving care. Our tree was put up and an evening set aside where my grandmother would join us and we would all sit around going through the tree decorations, reminiscing on where each one came from, what it meant, how it came to be. Inevitably my brother and I would argue over who got to put the star on top, but it was done good-naturedly, and it is a memory we find we can laugh about as we've gotten older. Special candles, garland, ribbo

 Last night I met up with my girls, my amigos, my favorite bitches, and we had dinner and drinks to celebrate my birthday. (Thanks again, guys! Love y'all!) Now, it doesn't take much to get any of the four of us talked into having a drink. Pretty much all you have to say is "do" and all four of us will say yes without you coming close to finishing your question. We don't always do shots, but if there is a birthday, special occasion, or if one of us has just been having a hell of a time of it, then set 'em up barkeep, because we're gonna knock 'em down. When the waitress came to take our order the funniest thing happened. One friend said, "Not Sambuca!" Another friend said, "Not fireball!" My response was, "Well, then, what? Tequila?" A resounding chorus of "NO" went around the table and made me laugh. That poor waitress. I'm sure she thought we were crazy. We ended up with Cinnamon Toast Crunch shots (Rum Cha

Recently it was brought to my attention that I'm not the same person I used to be, and when this was pointed out, my first instinct was that I agreed with that statement. But the more I thought about it, the more it occurred to me that this person was incorrect. You see, I really am the same person I used to be. I'm the same person I've always been. However, I will concede that I am different than I used to be. But I am different only because I made a decision a few years ago to no longer hide parts of myself that I felt would be disagreeable to those around me. Parts of me that have always been there, parts that I suppressed in my people-pleasing ways. I no longer try to do and say just the right things to get people to like me or continue to like me, to make people comfortable being around me. No. I'm at the point in life where if you like me, you like me, and if you don't? Well, that's fine, too. Plenty of people not only like me as I am but love me as I am.

 I had said that I wasn't going to Blog more than once per week and that is still my intention, but I have so much on my mind this morning and I need an outlet. Welcome to my chaos! For you to understand my turmoil, you have to first have some understanding of me. Now, if you have followed along from day one, you know a little of my people-pleasing background. For you newbies, just know that throughout my life I have rarely done anything for myself, always keeping in mind the ramifications of my actions as pertains to those around me. I was always the "good girl" growing up, at least until college. College brought out the best and worst in me. My older brother rocked the boat enough in our house and I always felt that I had to be the go-between, the voice of reason, the dependable kid, and in doing so, I suppressed my actions, I suppressed my voice. It took me many, many years to realize how unfair I had been to myself and how unfair it had been of those around me to expe

 As usual, Blog day showed up without me having any clue what I wanted to talk about. Before I sat down and opened the page to begin writing I had a dozen different ideas run through my head and I'm sure I will touch on those topics at some point. Today, however, I've decided to share a little about my mindset when it comes to my body; specifically, my tattoos. There was a time in my life where I would have said that tattoos were not for me. The older I got the more my mind changed until one day I decided to just fucking do it. Now, I touched briefly on the fact that I have an older brother and we've had our moments of getting along great and other times, eh, not so well. (That has definitely changed the older we've gotten.) I haven't always thought my brother had any idea what he was doing, but when it comes to tattoos, there is no question that he has a great deal of experience. So, on a solo trip home about eight years ago I picked up my phone, sent a text to my