Settling down: Richmond, VA; Phoenixville, PA

          Empty boxes are folded down in a pile. Tuition has been paid, my new job is rolling. A routine is setting back into my life. Favorite restaurants have been scouted, and the fastest route to work and back has been found.
         I look back on this month and let out a sigh of relief. My life zoomed into fast forward to the point where I forgot to live. Working is my addiction. I love to be on the floor moving and adding to my sales. That exhilarating feeling when I find a customer a good deal or start them on a healthier path. The smile on my manager's face brightens my own. When days are slow I still am happy to be doing something useful with my time. But, there are moments when I pause and I stare at the floor. I miss the familiarity of home, of Richmond, VA.
           After my first few pay checks and some extra birthday money, I packed my bags and took the five hour drive to the place I called home for 16 years of my life.A reunion with my brothers and sister in law sparked the beginning of my journey. It isn't until I sat down with them that I was overwhelmed with how much I missed seeing them so often. We shared stories and caught up on work and family issues. We laughed about how nothing has changed and we smiled as we discussed seeing each other soon. As the waitress came over to sing me one of the most embarrassing birthday songs ever, I blushed, but smiled. My brothers still cared (although I'm sure Brittany had something to do with it). We all hugged and smiled as we parted and I headed to my next destination.
              It's funny what a month away can do to a relationship. Before I left we worked so hard to let our guards down and come closer to each other. We fought and struggled but soon enough, we got there. Coincidentally, we got there just a few weeks before I moved. Coming home, I had no idea what to expect from him. And trust me, I'm a girl built on expectations. Hugs were exchanged and small talk was made. I laughed on the inside as I realized I was filled with the same butterflies I had months ago for him. I waited for something, anything to happen. Like a little girl waiting for her first kiss. As the hours moved along, I became more anxious. Maybe I had changed. Maybe there was someone else who he never mentioned. Maybe he changed his mind about me. The moment that erased those fears was so tiny, I wonder if anyone else would have noticed. Our movie started later than expected and we went to the bookstore around the corner to kill time. We browsed across books that didn't interest either of us too much and I patiently waited for anything to happen. Soon my hopes began to diminish as we headed downstairs to gaze at magazines. I think I counted 20 knitting magazines, that can't be healthy. We made our way over to the boy magazines about guns and cars and fishing and other things men use to seem like they have more testosterone then they really do. After a few minutes we sat down in front of the rack and I leafed through pages I wasn't reading. All I could think about was holding his hand. Kissing him. Anything. I got up and looked for a different magazine. For a split second I looked back expecting him to be looking down, but instead he was looking at me. Gently looking at me. At that point, I could care less what happened for the rest of the time. Sure I wanted more physicality, but if not, that one look would do. Because I knew he still cared, and he did miss me. Whether he'll admit it or not.
          I left him wanting more, but I knew I had to leave eventually. Next stop? My cat. I could not tell you the hours upon hours of missing my cat, Monster Kitty. I drove home in search of her, to pet her and to kiss her again. With open arms I was welcomed into her new home. They updated me on how she was doing and we traded information before I moved on to see my best friends (minus Jana and Cassandra).
          They smiles, the laughs, the screams of joy and excitement. So much joy filled my heart that night. I was blessed to spend time with the people that mean the most to me. I got a second chance to see my best friend before she moved to Hawaii. And before Chris starts college. It was a night I'll never forget, full of inside jokes and heartfelt memories.A last glimpse at my best friend before I left her and last words that couldn't have been expressed better. That was the hardest part, saying goodbye to my best friend of six years, Haley. Soon she will pack her bags and board a plane and who knows when I'll ever see her again. At this point, whether I think it's a mistake or not it doesn't matter. She's going. It's terrifying to never know when I'll see her again, and even more terrifying knowing how difficult it will be to see her. Knowing our past is hope for the future. I'm not sure if she ever understood the strength she gave me everyday. She has been the most caring and supportive friend. She's seen me struggle and cry, she's seen me through break ups and happiness. She knows my darkest secrets and I know hers. I hope she finds happiness and strength in her future. I hope the best for her and I hope she knows I will always be here for her.
            It's hard to move on in life, to set mile stones and pick up the pieces. I've noticed over this past month how important the little moments are. The last goodbyes, or the little looks. A moment of joy seeing my cat again, and a touch of heartache as I go on my way back to my new life. The tiny moments make up the best of my life. If the tiny parts are glorious, then there is always beauty in the big picture. I look back onto my past and smile. It hasn't always been easy, but because of the people who have helped me along the way, I've lived it to it's fullest so far, and I don't plan to stop anytime soon.
Good luck in Hawaii Haley, be safe, smile, and don't forget to call. Aloha.
"Because I knew you, I have been changed, for good" -Wicked; For Good
        

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back: King of Prussia, PA

       The edge of my eyes beg to close, and my eyelashes feel like a hundred pounds each. Measurements fly through my head of prices and sales. New sales pitches grabs at the ends of my brain pushing for attention. The past week has consisted of setting up for school, figuring out Pennsylvania's DMV (it's way more complicated than Virginia...), and of course, tea. After being offered a position to work at a local tea store I jumped at the opportunity. I'm more than excited to get back working and it's a chance to meet new people. I walk in to do the final paper work. Afterwards,  my new manager smiles and hands me a 200+ page manual. I keep the smile tight on my face and walk to my car. Upon my arrival I sit in the hot air and stare at it. Sixty pages needed to be finished by Monday, today is Friday. I drive home trying to fathom about what in the hell could contain 200 pages other than Grey's Anatomy or The Bible?
      Turning the pages I discovered the wonderful world of tea. I don't remember the past two days outside of the manual. Every moment I was awake I was immersed into it, learning different types of tea, memorizing their health benefits, and working on sales pitches. Slowly, I felt passionate about this product and the amazing benefits of it. I laugh as I notice how I moved from something that slowly kills you (Italian food) to basically liquid medicine. Tea has a solution for almost any physical or mental imbalance you might have. But, I'm not trying to sell through my blog, so enough about tea.
      I need to register for classes, and reschedule my financial aid meeting because of work, and tons of other things beginning to pile up. My blog went untouched for a week and Facebook views were limited. This new job is taking over my life. It seems horrible, but I smile. See, I'm a workaholic. Working is what I do best. Pushing to perfect my work and become the best I can be is my hobby. Being a workaholic can ruin lives, but when you're young-I don't think there is anything better. Plus, this is exactly what I needed.
     Lately, depression has been creeping up my back and into my head. I can't rid it. I've been focusing on my loneliness and my failed relationship that broke apart six months ago. Not even my friends could fill this void that was growing stronger in me. I begin to go insane, checking old emails from him and stalking his Facebook, staring at his pictures, missing him. I've worked so hard to let him go, but my efforts are worthless. I stare at my white walls and dream about being with him again. My mind wonders into a world where I know what he is thinking, if he really is happy, and if he ever thinks of me.  His new girlfriend keeps him on a leash shorter and tighter than I did. There is absolutely no way for me to contact him, without her getting it first. Except if I went there, and trust me, I've toyed with that idea more than a hundred times. I miss him, I wish I could fix what I messed up, I wish I could have been right for him like he is right for me. But, now I watch his life through pictures. Far, far away from me he sleeps next to her. He loves her. While I sleep alone, and I love him. My eyes drop from my white walls and back to the manual.
      A job allows me to forget these things, at least for the moment. It allows me to focus on myself and build my esteem as I push sales and make managers proud. With all of the free time I had, it was impossible to avoid this depression. Now, I can push it away and I move into a new world. A world that he doesn't know about, a world I wish he was in, but he's not. Even as I write this, I hope somehow he comes across it and he gets the courage to talk to me, even if it makes her mad. My hopes are high while my expectations are low.
       He's never far from my mind and he tends to be the body of each tear that falls from my eye. Although I struggle everyday without him, I become stronger each day. Each day I become more independent. Each day I force myself to stand tall and smile, because it isn't the end of the world. It's just a dent in my dreams. And dents can be filled and fixed with time.
        The edges of my eyes now tug with tears rather than exhaustion. I look down at the floor and wipe the tears away, wipe him away, at least for tonight. Tonight, I am strong.

A Change in Plans: Philadelphia, PA; Phoenixville, PA

        I bounce down the stairs elated to be wearing red, white and blue. Pulling back on my blinking pacifier and pushing sunglasses past my bangs, I smile. My family has decided to head into Philadelphia to watch the spectacular fireworks over the Delaware River. My excitement is barely containable as I reminisce about my last trip to Penn's Landing. Fireworks burst across the sky as the gentle waves lapped against the concrete walls. New Jersey was captured in an array of colors and shades. I began loving my dad again. I couldn't wait to go back. As we board the train my mother immediately slips into a bad mood. She wanted to drive into Philadelphia, but my dad wasn't ready to bear the traffic and stress of parking. Plus, the train was fun, it was different. I ignore her as I press my headphones into my ear. I let Taylor Swift calm my growing belligerence and watch as the cities and towns pass my window.
       Once we land at 5th street I can not wait to get into the city. Pushing my way past pedestrians I soak up the history surrounding me. I stood where independence was created. I saw the Liberty Bell and heard out actors as they explained what this independence meant for new found America. Hiding my excitement from my family I gazed into any windows I could find and read glimpses of everything available. Soon, my brother starts looking upset. He wanted to eat at Gino's or Pat's or something. He only came into the city for the famed Philly Cheesesteak. Which I couldn't blame him, but I wanted more. I looked down disappointing, was I the only one who appreciated history anymore? Shoving my wants back down my throat I agree to whatever makes them happy. I wasn't in the mood for a fight.
     Cobblestone roads and loose brick paths lead us to Sonny's. "Authentic Philly Cheesesteaks" read the sign, we shrugged and headed through the tiny green door. They. were. delicious. Seriously, Philly isn't known for Cheesesteaks for nothing. As I swallow mine as if it's a contest, my dad and I hail praise to the last time we went to Penn's Landing. We talked about the amazing fireworks and music and how the porter potty didn't have toilet paper. Taking our own advise, we all went to the bathroom before we left, my mom before me. When she comes back to the table she leans over to me,
"I stole some toilet paper just in case" she whispers.
Laughter beings bellowing out of my mouth and fell onto the tiled floor. My mom is ridiculous. I venture into the bathroom and when I finish peeing I reach for the toilet paper. There is almost none left, like seriously, it isn't even 2 ply! I walk out and whisper harsh accusations at my mom, we laugh all the way to Christ Church. After a few more stops, we head to Penn's Landing. I can't wait to show my mom and brother how perfect it is. I walk with an extra bounce in my step, until I see it. "No Fireworks July 4th" reads a white sign with plastered red letters. What the fuck, is that even legal to say? In the homeland of independence, next to Independence Hall, the freaking Delaware River, we're surrounded by what built this country and we can't even celebrate it? Sigh. My family turns and stares at each other. Well, we weren't expecting that. After a nice, awkward moment, we begin moving away from the disappointing river and back to the train station.
       No one speaks on the ride home, we suddenly become extremely tired. But, I'm busy people watching. I watch as the men and women respond to each other and their environment, as Taylor Swift once again keeps me company. Gazing upon each passenger I wonder what their story is. Did they fall in love and get left suddenly, like I did? Did they try to start their own business? Or loose their family in a fire? Do they wish someone would just talk to them? Who are these people? I'm absolutely convinced that everyone has a story to tell.
    On the way to Philadelphia, it hit me. I stare at one man, he's older probably his 70's. He has taken out his wallet and is staring at a ticket or receipt. His hands tremble softly as he puts it back in it's creased brown home. He lifts himself to one side and pushes it into his back pocket, buttoning it. The man stares out the window, he has a soft smile that tugs at the sides of his cheeks. I want to know him. I want to know all about his first love, and what his dreams were. If they came true. I want to know the places he's been and his craziest adventure. I want to know his favorite memory, what makes him happy, and his beliefs. Breaking my gaze I look at my hands. I decided right then, I want to be a journalist. At 2:15pm July 4th, I realized what I want to do. One day before my placement test for college.
      The train halts as it pulls into Norristown Transportation Center. My eyes follow the passengers as they exit the train. Curiosity still tugging at my brain. My family piles into the car and we start heading home. Their holiday was ruined, but I wasn't going to let mine fall apart. When I get home, I take my car to downtown Phoenixville. Earlier, I was invited to go watch a band and fireworks at a local restaurant. As I drive down Gay Street Bridge I see many families heading in the opposite direction. Still, I moved forward and tried to find parking near the restaurant. No luck. My day seriously refused to work out. A new idea pops into my head and I head back home. I grab a bag and stuff two water bottles, a blanket, and a shit bag. Clipping Sparky's leash to his collar, we head out.
     Soon enough, Sparky and I are following families up the street and into Friendship Park (I know, it's cute). We settle down into a spot when I notice Sparky's leg is shaking uncontrollably, he's slipping, he looks scared. This is my baby. I start walking him again and he seems fine. Being as determined as I am, he will see a vet soon. Gazing around for somewhere to go, I spot a white cart in the distance. Pertucci's is a local ice cream place and they had a cart out in the field. I bought a Cherry Water Ice and walked Sparky past the adoring crowd. Sitting against a light pole, I watch Sparky and his movements. He stays close, he's a good boy. I give him a million kisses and pour out the rest of my water ice, filling up the cup with water. Sparky doesn't care. Instead, he knocks over the cup towards me (I'm sitting remember?), knocks over my phone into the water and looks away. What a dick. I grab my phone and pick up the blanket stashing it back into the bag. Suddenly, I don't think Sparky should be here. I remember dogs have more acute hearing, I'm an  idiot. I start taking Sparky home. Before I'm two steps away, the first firework explodes. Shit. Sparky looks terrified and begins walking pretty fast past people and children. My butt's wet. I'm excusing my dog and myself as the crowd looks to the sky and not where they're walking. Children try to grab at Sparky as I move him further from the noise. After an exciting walk, we get home. I run upstairs and throw on next to nothing and go outside. I can see the fireworks from my front yard.
     I lean against a pole and watch the explosions in the sky. I smile as I look back on my day. I never thought I'd end up here. A wet ass, in my pajamas, in my front yard, a newly decided journalist major. It's funny how things work out that way. There were some disappointments along the way, but as I gaze into the sky, it was all worth it. A small laugh escapes my lips, "Welcome to Pennsylvania" I think to myself. Who knew this is where I'd land? I sure didn't.
Happy Independence Day, and may you plans never go the way they should.

Rolling Along: Phoenixville, PA

      Out of the corner of my eye I see my Dad's mouth get wider, he's becoming red and his eyebrows are pushed together in an angry sort of way. I turn away and stare out the window as the rolling hills past by my tired eyes. A new song blasts onto my IPod, I look down to change it to something calmer. Now I watch as my brother builds his defense against my father. He's in the backseat with me. His eyes are growing wider, he's being attacked and he knows it. I turn back away, he'll give up soon, we all do. My father grabs his Coke Zero in a hostile manner and the all to familiar cringe crawls up my back. Quickly, I turn up my music, I sit straighter, and I try not to show my unbearable discomfort. It's going to happen I thought, not here I begged some unknown universal power, not now, please. I dig my nails softly into my palm. I can't avoid it.
        This horrifying event has happened to me since I was ten years old. I've struggled with anxiety for what feels like forever. I wasn't diagnosed with actually having "panic attacks" or "anxiety disorder" until last September.
        It goes way back to a story about Elizabeth Smart, maybe you remember her, you probably don't. In 2002 a little girl was kidnapped from her bed in the middle of the night. Nine months later, she emerged from her captors grasp, the world couldn't believe she was alive. She has spent 9 horrifying months being a slave for a horrible man 18 miles away from her original home in Salt Lake City, Utah. Little did she and her family know this would cascade me into the terrifying world of anxiety. My new fear was being kidnapped and abused. For the majority of my sixth grade year, I slept on my parents bedroom floor. Often subject to my head and feet being tripped over as they made their way to the bathroom in the pitch black. This wasn't working for any of us. After a few months of intensive therapy I made my way back to my bed. Noise was the solution. I needed noise to distract my from the moans and shivers of my house. For a few years we kept a TV in my room to distract me, but I couldn't fall asleep.
      Eventually, my anxiety found new ways to ruin my life. Suddenly, I could not stand the sound of people eating. My brother's loud and messy ways of eating, physically hurt me. A pain in my back would tighten, I'd sit more still, I had to focus on it. These torturous dinners lead to tearful eyes and screaming fights. No one understood what was going on.
      My parents took me from therapist to therapist to find a solution. Nothing worked. By eighth grade I couldn't stand to be in a room where someone was chewing gum, and this was a huge problem at school. I couldn't focus and I experienced attack after attack for a tiring eight hours a day.
      There was no letting up with my anxiety as I entered high school, I dove into online relationships where they too suffered from my disorder. The growing anxiety lead to my desperate need for constant attention, especially at night. Even into my teenage years I still feared being kidnapped, I still do. My boyfriends would help me through attacks, but eventually they got sick of them too. They didn't understand these emotions, they all left.
       It got so intense that my mind went haywire. I began using my anxiety to make my boyfriends pity me to stay with me. I missed Thanksgiving dinners with family, and mostly ate alone in my room for every family meal. I avoided restaurants and movie theaters and church. I hated going to school, and glared at people chewing gum. My IPod became my essential tool for avoiding attacks. Just thinking about having an attack lead to one.
      Most people never knew about my anxiety, it was something that I never wanted to share with people.
But, I think it's a big part of who I am. I've gotten a lot better at controlling it, although the move has been stressful. I've learned how to control my attacks in public. I may have had one in front of you, and unless you watched my hands, you would have never known. Sign language helped me finger spell my emotions so that I could release the tension physically and constructively. When that didn't work, I would dig my nails into my skin to build a distraction. The pain was nothing compared to the physical pain I endured internally during an attack. Hurting myself outwardly helped me internally.
      I decided to write this and finally become public with my anxiety for many reasons. As I went through high school  I met many people who had struggled with the same thing, some more intense than others. Many people who struggle with panic disorder don't realize there's a cure other than Xanax or other medications. I had to change my lifestyle to become better. My parents never allowed me to get on any medication for it. I had to tough it out and become creative. First, I mapped out what made me anxious. After I removed those, or changed how I handled those situations, I breathed easier. It was always important to me to have a way out of every situation. I needed a "safety". Instead of relying on people, I relied on myself with my car and phone. I figured how to mask my anxiety when I wasn't alone. It hurt, but it saved me from many, many ugly situations. The most important thing I did to help my anxiety was to admit I had it, and admit that I could change. If I gave into my anxiety I would have been in some deep shit right now. With no friends, my family would be sick of me, and I'd probably be living in my room.
      For those of you who have experienced the same horrifying feeling, please know you are not alone. Some nights, it got bad, so bad that I thought I would die, or that dying would be easier. I've been there. I've had attacks I should have been hospitalized for. You are not alone. There is help out there. After a few bad therapists and sleepless nights, I stumbled upon an amazing therapist who helped me overcome most of my anxiety and helped me become a better and happier person (If you want her number, just ask.) Since then, I've lived my life to the fullest. I've had sleepovers and have been to many restaurants. I've enjoyed movies and could eat with my family without my IPod. You can change, it's a disorder not a disease. I hope by sharing my story, you'll be inspired to seek help. For those of you who don't encounter massive anxiety attacks on a daily basis, you're lucky. Help out those who need an ear to listen. Don't be afraid to suggest help. Those with anxiety, welcome the help. You have to want to change for it to work.
     I look back at my brother, he's given up. My dad stares out the front window, his arms are tense. My mom is fed up. I take my nails out of my palm. I escaped it. I breath easier. Not today, anxiety, not today. I smile to myself and watch the clouds pass. Today, I am safe. 

Stumbling Onward: Phoenixville, PA

    The rhythm starts, vibrations shake their way up my spine. A cowboy boot slams down against the wooden stage creating a blasting beat. The musician closes his eyes as he runs through rifts and lets soothing lyrics reflecting his past and inspirations escape his lips. I gaze past him against the loosely painted, beautiful mural, that literally shoots out of the wall. It outlines Phoenixville, a crowded small town, a small creek and a deep river. It's mountainous with the constant threat of deer at night. Fireflies light up the town where the street lights fail. I look back at the singer, he's finishing his song. I've been here for hours. I'm sitting in a coffee shop during their open mic night, hoping, begging someone will talk to me. From 4pm to 10:30pm I stay perched in my seat, I laugh at their jokes and clap when the musicians enter and exit the stage. I make eye contact with a few of the audience members. I hold their eyes for as long as I can. My nonverbal pleas amount to nothing. I'm still alone. One boy in particular catches my eye. We've made eye contact a few times. I just want to talk to someone. The host introduces him as Joe. He's with a  guy named Andrew. I rock along to their first song, again begging for eye contact. They finish, I clap. Their next song was introduced as a song they wrote the night before. Joe begins singing and the lyrics disturb me. "love is skin deep I don't care what they say" he goes on to explain about a girl he saw in a tight yellow dress and how he wanted to know her but she went away. My heart sinks. He's in love with another girl, I'm hopeless. I look down at the floor for the rest of the song, I don't need your stupid eye contact anyway.
    Some of you may be hoping that this is the part where where he gets off stage and introduces himself to me and we end up chatting all night and I have a date tomorrow. Nope. He walks off stage and we cease all eye whispers for the rest of the night. Not only that, but I realize I feel absolutely, completely alone. After a couple acts I slip out the doors and walk along the cobblestone to my car. Holding my book close to me I search the ground for an excuse not to cry. I drive home with the radio softly reminding me to avoid silence. As I enter my house, the loneliness grows. I feel like crying. I've been here for two weeks today and I haven't held a conversation with anyone. I don't know how much longer I can take it.
      I head up to my room to embark on just how lonely I can feel before I scream when my phone rings. It's one of my best friends from Virginia. God, how I missed those days of staying out late and making memories with good friends. I eagerly pick up and explain my sorrows. After a good five minutes of me complaining, he tells me it'll come. Friends will come. I just wish it'd be sooner than later.
     A new friend that I made when I came here, who lives in Virginia has kept me company in these lonely times. It's become my way to escape Pennsylvania and dream of a place where I belong again. This person keeps me grounded when I'm going insane, and reminds me of my ability to discover someone else, and rediscover myself in them. I made a friend, I just wish they weren't five and a half hours away. I just want to be hugged.
    Logging onto Facebook has become ritual at this point. Stalking the lives of people who still have one is my new hobby. I stumble upon a comment from my best friend, "I miss you" it reads. It suddenly hits me like a UFC fighter on pay perview, I miss her so much. I would give anything to have another sleep over with her and regret those times I passed it up for stupid shit. I miss her and my loneliness creeps back into my mind. I think I'm getting depressed.
   Then, one of my favorite people texts me. He's a local comedian from Richmond, Brian Mann. Even when he says serious things, I laugh. His bubbling personality picked up my spirits. I was kind of shocked to see his message, people surprise you everyday. Brian tells me he misses me, and I miss him too. I miss being surrounded by loving, supportive people.
    It takes a few minutes before I want to hit myself in the face. Here I am crying about not having friends. I write about my loneliness and how I just want to talk to someone. I'm so stupid. I have multiple, unique, awesome, gorgeous, funny, loving friends surrounding me with support every day. They tell me to keep writing, to keep smiling and discovering. They whisper me courage and scream me praise. I love them so much. I feared being abandoned when I moved, being with no one. I learned tonight that I chose the right friends. I'm a very lucky woman and I couldn't thank you all enough.
   Friends will come. New people that I can learn to love and cherish. For now, I only have you all and that's more than enough. I can't wait to build my old friendships and create new ones. You guys are my strength. Thank you for everything. I love you all.

Stagnant: Phoenixville, PA

    I'm laying naked in my bed at 3:18 on a sunny afternoon. The sun is creeping through the cracks in my blinds and I'm staring at a cork board above my bed that displays a collection of smiles and memories I've gathered the past few years. Pictures plastered against the brown surface show a little girl, smiling, holding her new kitten. Another shows a tired puppy huddled in a corner, it was his first night with us. Some of the pictures remind me of vacations that I took to visit old friends and make new memories. Postcard from around the world hang to remind me how lucky I am to have had the chance to visit those places. I sigh and roll out of bed, gazing at my clothes in my closet I snag some pajamas and put them on, I'm not going anywhere.
    Earlier my mother had barged through our front door clutching to her purse, an exhausted look hints at her eyes.
"Have the dogs been out?" She says with a light New Jersey accent. I shake my head staring at my laptop hoping to God someone posts a new status on Facebook. I'm bored out of my mind. She starts yelling at me about towels or something and I start getting annoyed. Eventually she grabs something to eat and sits next to me, I tell her about a small argument I'm having with one of my friends.
 "Well, I think you're in the wrong," she spits out bluntly.
     I put up my defense systems and start making rude comments back. I shared something personal with her to get support, and here my mother is saying anything to prove her daughter's unworthiness to anyone. I feel like shit. She reminds me again about the dogs rising anxiety to urinate. Ignoring my brother who is more than eligible to walk them, she commands that I walk them. I tell her I'm taking a shower first, not only to win back control of the situation and to build my own self esteem, but I look like a mess. My green cami is now covered in dried milk and my hair is greasier than a new oiled car. I walk up the stairs as she threatens to turn them into a pound. Honestly, what pound would accept a ten year old and twelve year old dog who both have multiple problems. My mom is also unaware of the treatment pound dogs go through. Ignored for the majority of the day, dogs at the pound are lucky for a walk a day. At the SPCA where I volunteered, dogs received special treatment which entailed two walks and occasional play, if they're lucky. Our dogs are pampered with attention all day and are in a loving home. Dogs in pounds barely get noticed because everyone wants a puppy, these dogs wouldn't stand a chance.
   I yell obscenities before I slam the bathroom door. In the shower I think about my great grandfather's funeral which I attended yesterday. I think about my own funeral and if my loved ones will regret these petty fights one day. I wonder if my old friends will look back on our friendship with regret. I get shampoo in my eyes and I feel like it's karma for being so self-centered. What about the regrets I'd have if they passed away suddenly? Would it be so important for me to get the last word? Would I regret not taking my dogs out the second my mom bothered me to?
   I remember my cork board of memories and stare at it one more time. I feel as if all of this fighting is starting to really tear at my mom and my relationship. I stare at my phone and frown, I  don't want to fight with my friend anymore.
      Considering my options to keep my relationships in tack I look to the future. I don't want to be walked all over for the rest of my life, but putting up a fight against my loved ones is threatening our relationships. Why do I always have to be right? "Before you take the splinter out of my eye, take the plank out of yours," I try to analyze my own flaws. Although it's hard, I commit to allowing myself to be wrong sometimes. For the sake of friendship, you win, this time at least.

Small steps: Phoenixville, PA; My kitchen

   Click, click, click, my gas stove ignites into a soft blue flame. Pans hit one another as I pull out a large one and a small one. Uncooked noodles clash into each other in their cardboard home. Wet hot dogs are tightly packed, they're cold against my hand. After a long two hours of bowling, I'm making dinner for my brother and I. I like cooking, not real cooking, but something that has directions on the back of the box. For example, I'm a master at Macaroni and Cheese, but rice comes in bags without directions. I have no idea how to make rice. In my seventeen years of life I have tried five times with no success. I don't plan on trying again any time soon.
   The water starts to boil, I pull out some leftover green beans and pop them in the microwave for three minutes. After answering a text message, I pour the hard noodles into the steaming water. I'm worried about the hot dogs, they have been in the hot water for a while, I turn the dial down. Finishing my master piece I pull it all together on a plate, leaving the rest in the pots and bowls for my brother to handle.
   I head upstairs with my plate and start eating. The radio plays and I'm thinking about myself. I've read books and seen magazines, I've had friends who have intense issues with their bodies. I never learned how to hate myself. I've never had a problem with my weight or my nails. Which some find surprising since I weigh in at about 215 lbs at 5'2'. Modern age tells me I should hate my body, but I just don't see the reason why. I slip the slimy noodles between my lips and ponder my past. I've lost weight before. Once, I dropped 40 lbs while in a teen weight loss program, I was happy then too. Losing weight is something I do when I have nothing else to focus on, the past few years I lost more weight during the summer than any other time. I don't have a problem with gaining weight either. Last week my brother and I went out to eat at a buffet. I filled my plate with starches and enchiladas. I was so hungry. My brother walks over with some sushi in hand and looks at my plate. With disappointment leaking into his voice he says, "That's enough, Amanda"
Embarrassed I reply, "I'm hungry."
"Your eyes are bigger than your stomach," He says under his breath.
I don't say anything, I take the walk of shame to the check out. We head up two flights of stairs and eat on a balcony. The view plays across the mountains and street lights changing from red to green to yellow and red again. Cars zoom past each other and mothers hold their daughters hands. I eat everything on my plate. I'm still hungry. Slightly ashamed of my eating habits in front of a fit, ex-gym employee, I keep it to myself. This doesn't mean I don't love myself. Most people don't openly judge me, so I move past it.
     I love food and I'm not afraid to say it. I love exercising too, I walk and run my dogs often now. Being overweight and learning to love myself was easier than most people think. I have beautiful eyes, and I love my hair. If I shop right, I can find the cutest clothes. Sure, more than half of Virginia has seen my butt crack from time to time, but I'm happy with myself. Listening to people complain about their bodies amazes me everyday. I have stretchmarks, two stomachs and you betcha I chafe, but I also have a bright personality, a love for dogs, and did I mention my beautiful eyes? If I  focused on all of the "mistakes" my body has it would be impossible to cherish myself as I do today. Physical changes are inevitable throughout life. I'm not the same red head baby that popped out on July 30, 1993, am I? Nor am I still the skinny little six year old, who won the fastest mile in first grade. I've developed and changed, I've gained weight and lost it. I've had scars and burns, stretch marks and freckles. Loving myself has been the greatest gift I could ever give anyone. "You can't love others, until you love yourself," it's a quote that means a lot to me. Finding inner and outer beauty can change lives and inspire happiness. It took time to appreciate myself, but I knew it was important to love who I was on that day I decided to change. I couldn't wait until I lost sixty pounds, dyed my hair, and dated a model. It was an important step in the process to love myself immediately and not promising to love myself once I change into this image implanted into my head of what I should be.We live once. Experiencing good food, a sip of Coca-cola, and indulging should be a part of life. Since I've come to terms with myself, I've never been happier.
    After reading this, you may be concerned about how being overweight is unhealthy. It is and there's no way around it. The only times I've lost weight, I've kept being healthy my goal. Health is extremely important. I'm not saying eat your way to an early grave. I'm saying love yourself before you miss the chance.
    Tomorrow I'm going to my great grandfather's funeral. I didn't know him very well, and haven't seen him since I was a child. Though I didn't know him, I hope he loved himself too. His death has given me a whole new appreciation for myself. I'm happy I love myself. We can die any day. Hating myself until I reached my goal weight seemed ridiculous. I hope that you'll consider forgetting your imperfections. Learn to love yourself and those around you for their treasures, instead of judging their "flaws". Like I said, we live once. That means we have one chance to find and cherish all of the aspects that make us unique to the world. Everyone is full of them. Do me a favor and take the time to discover and applaud them. You are beautiful.

Unknown Tracks: Philadelphia, Pa; Penn's Landing

   During New Year's I was going through an extremely rough time in my life. I was miserable, desperate, and lonely. I had spent the last couple years alone in my room in solitude, living a double life on the internet. It ended around New Year's. I needed a change, I needed to live and experience this world I feared. I was never one for making New Year's Resolutions, however this year was different. I needed something stable that I could focus on, something to push me into life again, something to pull me out of my depression. The first of this year I declared I would take more risks. This was the best decision I had made throughout high school. I met some amazing people along the way, and I have some great, great stories in my back pocket. I took my greatest risk yet today.
      Many of you who know me are aware about my grudge towards my father. Let's keep it simple and say that it was a huge fight when I was ten years old and I still haven't forgiven him, nor do I plan to anytime soon. That faithful day catapulted me into almost a decade of hatred for my father. Any words that came out of his mouth prickled up my back and released themselves in a tense defense line. My dad and I have never been close. He's tried so hard to win me back, everything from money, to begging, to serious talks. I've even put in some effort with therapy and self-discipline, nothing has worked. I have always had a very difficult time even having a conversation with him without wanting to scream, but today was different.
    I woke up grumpy from last night, insomnia has become my new best friend since I moved. I just can't seem to go to sleep and once I get close something bothers me and  I become wide awake. It's a torturous process. Finally, around 5 am, my eyes settled down and I drifted to a safe place in my thoughts. I was awaken around 11 am, automatically commanded by my father to help bring in groceries. Who the hell shops this early anyway? I don't say a word as I get little things, passive aggression is my specialty. He softly suggest, keeping a tone that I hate, for me to pack up some of the smaller things and bring them inside. I grab something else with a snappy comment about being tired. It's a normal encounter between us, he's sick of it and I can't seem to let it go. Who knows, maybe I'm afraid of him hurting me again. I don't trust him. I don't like him and it has hurt over the years watching our relationship deteriorate into nothing. Although it is my fault.
   I head back upstairs into my room thoroughly ignoring him and his sighs. I win. I pick up my book and go through the daily motions of being lonely with nothing to do on a Saturday in Pennsylvania. A few hours after the incident I'm sitting on the couch engrossed in Keeping up With the Kardashians. I'm telling you guys, her butt is real. My dad strolls over in his awkward way that bothers me and asks if I want to go see fireworks tonight. I sound uninterested, even though I am.
"Who's going?" I ask in my best monotone, I-don't-care teenage voice.
"Well mom has to work and I'll ask Matt when he comes down," he replies not really expecting me to say yes.
He's bracing for the rejection he's felt so many times from me. I say I'll think about it, not once making eye contact with him. My father nods and walks into the kitchen, it's hard for him to give up control. I ponder the thought of actually going. My brother denies the offer, he has work. So that would mean it would be just me and my father. Two people who don't agree on anything and are both power hungry assholes. The good experiences I've had my father I can count on one hand, not including my thumb. But, I don't have plans for tonight and I'm dying to get out of this house. Eventually, he asks me again. Quickly I review the pros and cons in my head. The cons outweigh the pros by far. But, something twerks me to remember my purpose here. I want to challenge myself, and I'm still not done with this year so taking more risks is still on my list. He waits for the final blast of rejection. His face is sunken. My dad's tired from the long move, his eyes look dull, he's really trying so hard to connect with me on any level. For once, I feel bad for the guy. I nod my head a little.
"Yeah." I mumble not wanting him to hear me.
"Huh?" he says a shocked look plays across his face. His shoulders perk up, he even looks like he grew back some hair.
"I'll go" I gnash through my teeth, I hate repeating myself even though I set myself up for it.
"Okay! Um, we'll leave about 7 okay?" He's walking on thin ice and he knows it, he doesn't want to screw this up.
   I sigh on the outside, but inside I'm smiling. It's been a while since I've gone somewhere alone with my dad, three years to be exact. We went hiking once, I had a great time. Anyway, I like fireworks. We wouldn't have to talk that much. What the hell.
   Putting on a cute dress, some sunglasses and my new favorite sandals, I head downstairs. I look cute (as always) and I feel good about myself. Starting off in a good mood was a good decision. I take the dogs for a walk and mentally prepare myself for this new voyage. Luckily, no bunnies decided to show up. As I release them back into the house I grab my purse. I'm missing my headphones, fuck. Those could help me avoid talking to him all together, I frantically pull my room apart searching for them. No luck. I suck it up, I can do this.
    We get into the car and about 15 minutes in my dad admits he has a slight idea of where we're going, but isn't actually sure. In other words, we're just winging it. Somehow, we found the train station, miracle number one.Stepping out of the car and onto the platform, we slowly look around. There's cars here but no one is actually here. We've arrived in a ghost town. So what do I do? Take cute pictures of myself by the train tracks of course! My dad's reading maps and smoking a cigarette. We don't know what we're doing. Long story short, we finally realize we're waiting for the wrong train (after an hour and an awkward conversation with a random stranger-hey, he started it). I follow my dad up an escalator, trudging along. Escalators scare me, and we're walking up one?! I wasn't thrilled. Boarding the right train, I smile, we're on our way and somehow I've maintained a good attitude, for me at least. After a few stops and changing trains we finally arrive. Penn's Landing, PA.
    We reach the festivities and immediately I light up. There's free music, good music. People are dancing and laughing. There is food everywhere, always a plus. My dad bought me a light up pacifier, I begged for one as a kid and it took me 17 years to finally get one. I'm stoked. We reach a food stand and buy cheeseburgers and cheese curds. They sound disgusting, but they were absolutely delicious. I'm having an amazing time, and so is my dad. Sliding past patrons and excusing ourselves down steps, we reach the waterfront. Oh my god. It was stunning. The Benjamin Franklin Bridge was lit up in red, white, and blue. The water was so perfect and beautiful it seemed artificial. My dad leads me to the edge right at a place to dock a boat. Take more risks, you say? I make my way over the chain blocking pedestrians from the Delaware River, smiling I take a seat upon it. My mom would have flipped, but my dad accepts it and even takes a picture of me. I smile, I'm happy.
    The fireworks take their time before the start, but I don't mind, I'm admiring the view and swaying to the music. Finally, the first firework explodes over thousands of awed faces. I don't think I have ever said "wow" so many times in thirty minutes. It was an amazing, beautiful show. The sparkles danced and fell gently into the river, while massive explosions played across the sky. Rays of light shot up into the sky only to become something awe inspiring, simply gorgeous. I have seen fireworks almost every year, I love them. This was,by far, the best, absolute top firework display I have ever had the pleasure of seeing. My day was perfect. It was a welcome to Philly. I felt home. I felt like I belonged in this sea of people. I was happy, I was even happy my dad was with me. He was ecstatic. He won, and I'm glad he did. We had a wonderful evening, and I'm so glad I shared it with him and no one else.
     I took the biggest risk by spending eight hours with my dad, alone. I was terrified of the fights we could get into and how this night would end. My dad and I are two very different people. Someone wise once told me, "People are more alike than they are different." She was right. I discovered a lot about my dad tonight, and about myself. It's a small step, but it's a step in the right direction.This slight encouragement has pushed me to take one more risk tonight. I haven't said it in years, but for tonight, I love you Dad.  

Retracing Steps: Phoenixville, PA

   The most daunting events in the working world is interviews. It's a quick sit down where your every move is evaluated. Brought into a room sitting at a table your expected to be witty, submissive, energetic, perfect, confident, and willing to change at the quip of their lip. One mistake, one stutter, or a drop of eye contact and your chances are gone in an instant. There are many people more qualified for the job, the applicant is on extremely thin ice. Knowing this, I put on the cutest outfit I can find, something sexy, polished, professional, and yet it's modest. Pretty much I wore something the girl wears in a porn video before all of the XXX stuff happens -minus the tie and glasses. This is how girls get jobs nowadays, as you read in my last article, I'm not above it.
   As I'm waiting to meet with the hiring manager I notice the relationship between the coworkers and the managers. They laugh together and share sarcastic jokes. They kid about job security and workers policy. I smile but feel a little hurt, I miss my old job. It's funny, I worked in the same place for three years. I have laughed, cried, and cursed up a storm that even the devil would be ashamed of in that restaurant. I cursed that place to hell and almost quit every Friday. Still, I stayed until I had to leave. I cried my last night. That place shaped me as a worker and as a young women. Relationships were tight between coworkers and it's something I miss everyday. However, it was a relief that at least I got a job interview with a place that is like my old job. I really hope they hire me, I feel like I would fit right in. Nostalgia kills.
    After my interview I came home and sat on the couch for, eh, about three hours. The Real Housewives of New York City have serious problems that should be respected by millions across the nation. It's nice to know being rich sucks too. Soon enough, I realized I felt like shit for sitting in one place for so long and I took my dog, Sparky, out.
   I have two dogs, Sparky and Copper. I love them with all my heart but bless their souls they are so different. Sparky...reflects his name. He is spunky and outgoing, always looking for an adventure, he's a few years younger than Copper, but I got him when I was 8-I'm almost 18. Copper, however, I've had since Kindergarten (5 years old). He's getting to his last years, but we've been saying he'll keel over soon for about five years now. Copper's on the slower side of course and really enjoys to sniff the flowers, literally. Obviously, it's just plain easier to walk them individually, it just doesn't seem like it if I'm feeling lazy. Luckily, today I wasn't feeling lazy, in fact I really just want to move. So I leash up Sparky and we go for a run around the little town of Phoenixville. He's a great run-walk dog. He always stays near me and is very trained, or so I thought. After a good long walk Sparky and I were about a block away from my townhouse. Feeling confident about his good behavior, I take him off his leash for our last run home. Big. Big. BIG. Mistake. It starts off well and we're running next to each other, he even ignores another dog barking at him. I'm happy, I have a good dog. Then, he sees the god damn bunny running along a wired fence right by him. He charges and sprints down the length of the yard, growling, with his hair up. He now knows he is free of his leash. Soon
he loses interest in the bunny and I am still far behind. He charges into the street and runs straight into an intersection. I, an avid dog lover,  watch my baby run right where many cars speed and I plead with him to stop. I literally beg my dog to come back to me. But no, he is determined. Sparky now realizes he's close to home and lord, he charges toward the townhouses and ends up at the wrong one. Two doors down, my dog is wagging his tail and smiling at me. That asshole. Not long before I start catching up to my dog, I realize the two very cute boys watching me sweat and plead with my dog. Not a good first impression I rush my dog into the correct townhouse. Only to realize I still have to take out Copper. I sigh, I can't escape embarrassment. So I hustle my slightly overweight, on deaths bed out of the house. I dream about telling the guys "I got this one under control". But, I doubt a witty comment can save me from this one. The only thing keeping my head up now is the fact that I'll be home soon, to write a blog about all of this. Pathetic.

Ins and Outs: King of Prussia and Pottstown, PA

    I gather up my binder full of applications and sigh with relief. I am finally done filling out application after application. The worst part of the application process entails the same information, worded slightly differently, for every company. It's made me wish all companies will just accept one universal application (it would save major amounts of time). Because a major corporation hasn't given me an offer to buy that idea, I double check phone numbers and addresses and pack up my things, grabbing my keys. One thing I love about Pennsylvania is the scenery. Every turn here is absolutely stunning. I live nestled between hills on the outskirts of Philadelphia, as you can imagine, it's breathtaking. It shocks me as I drive through it, and at the pump. Living in the mountains isn't cheap. On average, everything I need is about thirty minutes away. My chances at getting a job at King of Prussia (one of the ten biggest malls in America) are high, so that's where I headed out first to fill out and deliver my applications. As I've said before, it's equivalent to walking Manhattan, and God it felt like it. I was approaching my last few applications to turn in when I reached a tea store. So far, this process just included handing over a piece of paper with many thanks after the manager evaluated it. However this time I was offered an interview on the spot. I took it of course.
    I have never worked in sales before but selling pizza is kind of the same. You put on your best smile and focus on the customer to help them reach complete and utter satisfaction (easier said than done). The man, a nice smile middle eastern, past his forties, leads me up a staircase as I frantically spit out anything I can say to convince him that he needs me on his sales team. He doesn't look impressed. So, I do what any normal young women would do, I pulled out the big guns, and started flirting. Listen, I am desperate for a job at this point, graduation monetary gifts only last so long. I start off giving him smiles and little urges to show him my desperation but not losing confidence in myself. That's what this guy wants, a confident young woman. Hell, I'm an actress, I can do that. By the end of it all, I get a shoe-in for the job. I don't mind what I did, he was a very nice man. Plus, I got a job.
   There are many downsides to summer birthdays. I've seen it all. I have never had balloons to hold at school, or a happy birthday sang to me in math class. My locker was never decorated by friends, and half of my party list was in Florida or Arizona when my party rolled around. Little did I know it would also be the reason multiple companies are delaying my hire. See, to hire a minor in America it calls for a lot of paper work. Business owners would rather spend that time pushing sales and just wait until I'm 18. For me, that's a month and a half without a paycheck, and I still have bills. It's a struggle, but it's one of those things I just have to tough out. My mother never should have conceived me in November, damn it.
   More recently, I was given the opportunity to tour my new community college. It's nice, nicer than J. Sarge was anyway. They have a lot of accreditation and check out well in my book. They have really taking community college to the next level and are trying to actually give people a chance at affordable, quality education, kudos to them. It gives me hope that I won't actually be a failure after all. I never dreamed once in my life I would ever end up at community college. Everyone claims it's a great system, but I never saw it fitting me. I've come to accept that I'll be attending community college, with a grudging attitude. Hopefully I won't be there long, that's the plan now. Still, I've learned that the future is never certain and life changes everyday.
    Yes, it changes everyday. Like today. I come down the stairs, excited because I'm having a good hair day, and shit, I look good. I run into my mom and she looks at me, her eyes are glossy and she has on that smile that just screams somethings wrong. Her grandfather died today. It's weird, I didn't know him at all yet that feeling of emptiness overwhelms me. How can I feel so connected to someone I haven't seen in probably over a decade? I take it in and hug my mother, she needs it. The funeral is on Monday and she asked me to go with her, without hesitation I say yes. I'm afraid that I'll regret not knowing this man. What if I missed out on a wonderful opportunity? An important lesson that no one else could teach me? I guess I'll never know, and that's one of the realities of life we have to live with everyday.
   Uncertainty in life is healthy. It blossoms realizations never seen before. It allows things to develop and change. Once we make peace with change and learn to embrace it, then we can really live life. So, I'm embracing this change and these challenges in hopes of learning something. It's scary, but I have to do it. 

Paths Well Known: Gay Street and Beyond, PA

Something I didn't expect when I moved, was to fall in love all over again with the simple things in life. I was suppressed under the omen that my neighborhood was a dreaded, desperate decision of my parents, which they deeply regret. Hell, it even brought my mom to tears months before. They described it as small, cramped, and even ghetto. Apparently my parents don't go out much, nor do they appreciate simplicity and organic beauty. I had to find out on my own that Phoenixville, PA housed more than a million fireflies, in my backyard alone.
  Today I went out on a walk around the neighborhood just as the sun was setting across the gentle hills of Valley Forge. I spotted the invisible creek I wondered about as I crossed the Gay Street Bridge (a daily occurrence) and came across the Friendship Fire House. Seriously, Mom? This place is beautiful. As the sun says it's final goodbye, the streets light up in various ways: some by little blue antique street lamps, others from dusty gray overhangs, and the most beautiful, nestled in the woods and open spaces, are the fireflies. All of them sharing this new place I call home. The lights to the strip dance across houses and apartments just above the hill. The air is fresh, and despite the humidity, it's gorgeous outside. I even find the cracks in the pavement, a fight between nature and industry, breath taking.
   My room is smaller, but I find it reassuring. It holds me close when I'm unsure, or even scared. The familiarity of my belongings caress me to sleep and are by my side in the morning. They are still the simple treasures I miss from home, like Walmart not being 20 minutes away, or the soft purr of my cat, Monster Kitty. However, I've learned to embrace this new experience, as best I can.
  The blunt openness in the North is appealing to me. My dogs are subject to frequent walks now (they aren't complaining) and with walks come encounters with other dogs. As my dogs start barking away at another woman's dog, the awkward smile plays across my face.
"I'm sorry" I say pulling my dog back towards me.
She replies quickly while moving her dog into her house, "It's okay, my dog is an asshole."
The exchange made me smile, it was my first conversation with someone from Pennsylvania. "Welcome home," I thought.
   The people here are extremely nice, and willing to carry on a conversation, as long as your willing to start one. It took me a haircut, manicure, and some expensive hair dye (not to mention three new outfits), to finally get the gut to start talking to people. Granted the conversations didn't carry on further than "Hi, I was wondering if you were hiring?" Still, it's progress. Thankfully more places are hiring than those who aren't. It's another small blessing this Borough of Phoenixville has brought me.
   Another gift I had long forgotten about, due to school and work, and just life in general, is my love for reading. Moving has presented me with options to enjoy new appreciations (such as nature and sidewalk cracks) as well as touch on some old ones, like the smell of a book and exercising. Little things that I once loved are now coming back to me full force, and I'm happy.
   I had my doubts about Pennsylvania, and I cried my first night here. I threw fits and tried so hard not to move. The loneliness has taught me a lot so far, and it's much appreciated.
   You know, I think I can learn to love Pennsylvania.

Branching Out: Plymouth Meeting, PA

Discovering King of Prussia Mall is equivalent to walking across Manhattan. If you know me, you realize I do not like movement. However, it's becoming more necessary for me to be active in order to create opportunities for myself. So, my adventure started with new clothes. Fabulous deals all around may I add, and many cute purchases were made in order to look for and get jobs, and possibly friends (but that's a reach). I'm searching for anyone to connect with but my total of people I've even spoke to accumulates to three. And none of those exceeded 10 words.
I miss connecting with people that I love and those who loved me. I've lost expectations for my old friends to stay in touch. My mother told me I'm not the center of anyone's world and that includes my friends. They have lives, and I'm trying to make a new one. I still can't let go of him though. I've never ended a relationship (if you can call it that) on good terms. Leaving while knowing we could be more is so extremely difficult. Still, I'm thankful for all he's taught me. Not to mention everything my friends have shown me and how they shaped me who I am today. I can't wait to embark on new friendships. It's terrifying not knowing when they will bloom, but the anticipation may be worth it.
  The opportunities here are endless and although everything is a 10 min+ drive away, it'll be worth it. There's a lot to discover and many memories to be made. Job hunting is my next adventure, starting tomorrow. Wish me luck, God knows I need it.
  Hopefully cute clothes can lead to a hefty paycheck. <3
RVA forever deep in my heart.

My first journey: Phoenixville, PA

  I was never one that though blogging was any use of all, until I embarked on my first journey into womanhood. You know, beside my first period. As I stepped into the cold townhouse that was my new home, I knew this would be a challenge. After my big move (from Virginia to Pennsylvania), I was surprised by some of the changes and challenges. I have yet to make one friend, nor utter a word to a fellow Pennsylvanian. I have also made amazing progress in violently regretting my parents recognition. My mother prays to high heavens to become best friends with me, but hardly makes the effort to connect, and we all know how I feel about my dad.
   So, I suppose the real story is that I have yet to make friends and so blogging has become my only way to connect with someone, anyone. I doubt I'll keep up with this, just like my journal from sixth grade. But who knows, it is true that I've never been this lonely before. You realize your life will result in multiple cats and novellas (Spanish soap operas) when the most exciting thing you've experienced all day is eye contact with a boy across a cafe. Dear lord, help me.