To my Blog Followers

Hello all! Wanted to drop a short note and let you know I've recently moved my blog to a new place. It is called Chic in Shambles and you can find it here: http://www.chicinshambles.blogspot.com/

If you liked anything you read here I'd love for you to follow my journey in a new place! Perhaps you will find a little more love for the blog world this way. 

Thank you for the awesome times with Life of Shelby Leigh and perhaps one day we will meet here again : )

Peace! 

Whats new and whats next

It has been some time since my last blog... and frankly that's because I've been crazy busy. Not that it is an excuse, but it is my excuse. 

So here is the dealio with the realio. I am now doing marketing for two boutiques (one in Lubbock and one online in Austin) along with doing the marketing and dabbling in writing for a magazine in Austin. Yes, I waisted no time sitting around when I left life back in the LBK. 

And I'll also say that at first this made me spaz out. Yes, in two weeks I have already had at least 20 mental break downs about my future and where my life is going to go. In my mind there was only one place for my future, down the huge drain of failure. Duh! 

It wasn't until I listened to Man Repeller speak at a SXSW panel that things finally started to make sense. 

Good thing I have said that before... but clinch your teeth. This is about to be great.

She delved into her life as a blogger. Told those of us on the lowly totem-pole of fashion how blogging is the new thing, and fashion is no longer made by the people in magazines but by the opinions of the blogging world. Obviously this means only one thing. I shall be a blogger and be the best blogger there ever was!

Yeah right. 

Clearly I'm not that cool. But what I did realize is that I really like blogging, and more than that I really like fashion. Though I am not a fashionista. There is no way for me to write about the lavish fashion shows when the closest my butt will ever be is the front row of the parking lot (on the non restricted pavement). so there needs to be another route. 

And then it dawned on me again! The thing I have always been really good at is starving myself for fashion. I am a lover of the arts and a liver of the slums. I swoon over lavish items, not because the brand makes it worth it but because I have such high regards for these artist. 

On the flip side I was never a socialite. My family doesn't come from the upper east side and I don't plan on playing like I do. 

My new project is to bring the thoughts of a chic in shambles. I don't know how cool this will be, or if anyone will even care. But as long as there are keys to peck away at on my lap top I plan to blog about it.


Oh, and before my blog is up you can always get the inside look with my Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, (click for links) and Instagram: Chicinshambles!

This is only going to work if you love me as much as I love you! 

What do we make of it?

Lets just take a moment to examine this photo. At least that's what I did while walking around Town Lake with Jeremy yesterday. So there I was examining this wonderful view of rustic trees and green grass mingling with reaching modern building... and kind of freaking out. 

That's right, after all this moving and making these great new plans I'm all but content. 

"I AM FREAKING OUT!" 

When Michael did that in an episode of The Office and declared bankruptcy his problems were gone. Okay, they weren't really. But I wish they were because then I would feel like my problems were gone.

You are probably thinking that I'm a hot mess express. Thinking this would make you correct. I know I'm living in one of the most beautiful cities (not just by my standards but by some very credibly magazines as well) and I am sitting at home all day on Pinterest and Facebook. I am fully aware these are things most people would pay a lot of money to do. 

It just isn't me. Or at least what I am used too. Not because I don't enjoy what I'm doing. I have enjoyed this new journey more than expected. But that is why I am feeling these things. Thinking about how this future of mine could pan out into a life of joy compared to how it could end in a pit of fire is really scary. 

Don't get me wrong. Seeing this wonderful lake was not what brought on all of these fears. No, the clear water and perfectly sculpted people jogging along on that fine Thursday morning so content with their lives they don't even need to bother doing work during the regularly scheduled hours of 9 to 5 were in no way taunting my perhaps deemed future. 

Part of my fear came with the move from Lubbock. Where I left two solidly paying jobs and a roof over my head. The other came when I made a visit to H and R Block the evening before. My dad told me we needed to do my taxes. A joyous occasion seeing that in the past it means I would get some of that tip money so wrongfully taken from me back! Not this time... No no. This time I paid $39.99 for them to tell me that taking 20 hours of classes and working three jobs caused me to owe $2.00. But they don't take $2.00 charges so I also needed to pay $3.50 JUST to meet the minimum pay.  

Yes, these are the reasons I am freaking out. How am I ever supposed to survive in life? Nothing is panning out!  

See, I'm not taking the conventional way towards things, I'm not even taking a real way towards things in most peoples books. For many this uncomfortable, unknown journey is what ends in success... but that doesn't mean I'm going to be one of them. I have no guarantee but the diploma Texas Tech gave me. And unless I can beat someone over the head hard enough to knock them into giving me life long benefits and security I am going to have to take a leap into that brisk blue water. 

Metaphorically of course. What I mean is that I need to take a leap and dive into this life in front of me. In the end I guess it does make more sense to try and fail than to sit around and watch it pass me by. That only guarantees failure right?

The first day of a new thing

So there I was all packed up and ready to go. My life in Lubbock coming to an end, and a new thrilling experience awaiting me on the other side of this windy, dust filled road ahead. Yes, this is what real life is. This is the definition of adulthood.

I'm moving back in with my parents!

Here I am 21 and living the life. Recently quit my job with a news station that thought I was a bigger joke than a stand up comedy convention. And begged my wonderful boss at the boutique to hold onto me from all those miles away. My journey hasn't been the easiest one, and frankly what I'm doing now could be just another bumpy road, but for once in my life I feel good about my driving capabilities. Though my father who has worked on my cars and witnessed my wrecks would perhaps disagree. 

Though this feeling did not come without haste... and tears... and anxiety... and any other heart wrenching feeling your mind can muster. No no, this journey of mine has been filled with quite a bit of kicking and screaming. Questioning my decisions. Having flash visions of my future (I was looking real slick standing under an overpass with a trash bag on my head).

Did you know that packing up your room which has accumulated junk for three years isn't easy? It is the exact opposite. Who needs 5 deodorants? I don't want to see another scarf ever again. That nice TV, might as well chunk it. But don't think about touching the clothes! I need all 240 items of fabric hanging in my closet. DUH!

But as comical as this whole process seems looking back, it really was quite a sad thing. See, most people pack up and leave right after graduation. All their family is there helping with the move. They are still stoked from walking that stage, and the empty diploma spool in their hand is all they need to conquer the universe! 

That isn't the case when you are knee deep in a dead end career, graduated a year early but feel a year behind in life, and can't reach the boxes your dad stuffed in the attic two years ago. 

It was sad. Sad to turn off my light to an empty room. Sad to toss that last box in my car. Sad to hug my roommates goodbye. Sad to pull away from the trashy Cottages for the last time (it is true, I will miss those broken bottle filled streets and neglected office calls). And what was even more sad... the six hour Taylor Swift concert I performed in my car while crying to the most ridiculous lines in her songs. 

"But if God forbid fate should step in and force us into a goodbye, if you have children some day when they point to the pictures please tell them my name."

YUP! Bawled like a baby. Not because my friends have kids. Not because I am a famous singer and clearly this song relates to me. But because this is real life. This was the last time I will LIVE in that house with those girls. I have had my last night of Bachelor watching, and my last day of bumming around. There is no longer a need to distract people from homework and convince them that no class attendance policy is more important than hanging out with me. No more drunk knocks on my door at 4 a.m., and never will I witness another cake ball pillow being thrown at the most hungover member of 2023 C. These things will not happen again. 

I understand it is a part of growing up. It came as no shock that I would one day move on. But something I didn't take into consideration was that when it happened, it didn't mean everything would be set in stone. This journey I'm embarking on could easily lead me back to square zero, or it could be just crazy enough to work. Either way, I can say one thing for certain... I am 21 and have it all figured out.

YEAH RIGHT!

Here's to a selfish good deed

In order to be selfless I will be completely selfish with today's good deed. I am a firm believer of saying how you feel. I am also a firm believer that what you don't say will stick with you forever. I have spent my whole life not saying things, and the same amount of time dwelling on them. It is a huge problem. One part of this problem reared it's nasty head at me today, and I am here to beat it with my "Just say it" stick!

Here I am questioning this person who I care so strongly about if he even cares for me at all. And as much as I hate to admit it, I know the reason. The reason drives a red Jeep and lives in Lubbock. The reason is my "ex". I use the quotations because when all was said and done it was quite evident we were never even dating, therefore he can not be a real ex.

But that is the thing. Someone who I meant absolutely nothing too put a prick in my side that has left me walking more bent over than the worst hangover of all times (Cactus I will always love you even if nights with you means morning with my head in the sink) and even worse, it is effecting perhaps the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me. But don't get excited if you are reading this "ex", which I know you are not because you never read anything of mine. It has nothing to do with you personally, just the situation at hand. And that I'm a girl. Did you know girls have this horrible trait of never letting things go? It goes great with our new heels and cute dresses...

So today I will say all the things I wanted to say the night you told me I was not good enough for you. I will say all the things I chose to hold in because frankly I am good enough. I see it in myself and I see it in the way he looks at me.


Dear "ex",

It is me, the girl who was not good enough. I am here to return your unintentional lies and discerning looks. The greatest of them being that comment: "You are not good enough." Of course you did not say the words, no no, you always let me do the talking after all. I had to ask you if I was not good enough and you answered with a simple "No." Perhaps my piles of food for your friends did not suffice? Was it the races I sat for hours alone at only for you to forget I was there when talking to other runners? We wouldn't want anyone knowing you were stringing me along after all. Or was it that I thought I could help? Silly me for thinking the times you said you liked me and that you were over your fiance were true.

Of course I know the real reason. I completely understand that it was my fault. For listening to you talk about the house in Colorado we would have together. For being okay with you inviting me to meet your parents after just a few weeks (anyone who knows me even the slightest bit knows that is NOT OKAY in my book). And when you freaked out, it was my bad for crying and waiting around, telling you it did not have to be the same. Yes, that was indeed my fault. But honestly, what is a girl to do when she decides for the first time to just let go and see what happens.

But "ex", I'm not using this letter you will never read to make you feel small or give you a thought that I am not over you. No, that is indeed not the case. I just want you to know that perhaps next time you string someone along, or use someone as your quick fix you will word things differently.

See it wasn't that I was not good enough for you. It was that we were not good enough for each other. You do triathlons, I grew up thinking bikes should stay on the side walk or risk getting hit. You wear running shorts on a daily basis, I dress like I live in New York. You are 6 foot 6 and I am 5 foot 2. Lets be honest, it looked like I was getting kidnapped every time we were together. You would be completely content tucked away on a mountain forever, I have dreams bigger than any cabin could fulfill. You were broken and confused, you left me broken and confused.

Yet in all honesty, I hope you find someone who can be all those things. It is the best feeling in the world to know there is someone who fits you perfectly. In your case they will ride a tandem bike with you off into the sunset. And they will buy you those energy gel packets I never could seem to understand. They will be tall and you wont have to lean down to your knees to kiss them. One day I hope that you can be just as happy as I am because as scary as relationships are, they feel so good when they are right.

yours no longer,
Shelby


Well, I feel better. But really I did not write that condescending letter to feel better. I know it sounds bitter, because it is. Though that bitter feeling does not come from me being angry with him, it comes from me being angry with myself. Before David I was really good at being alone. Even better, I was really good at blocking people out. When he showed up all tall and important enough to be interviewed I let myself slip, like we all do at some point in time. But what I liked about him was the idea of him being the perfect person.

It was not until he was gone that I understood he was not my person. My person had been here all along. He is the person I know is there for me. The person who will read this entire post, then tell me it is wonderful (hopefully at least...) even though it is about someone else. He is the one that when today I tried to curl back up into my shield of protection broke down the wall. He hasn't let me go, and frankly I hope he doesn't. He is my person, my Jerbear, my guy.

So here is to not letting the fears from someone who means nothing keep you from being as blissful as you can with the person who means everything.

So remember when I said I'd do good deeds...

Turns out good deeds are hard to do. Not only do you have to find a noble way to do them, but then you have to be willing to write about them. Seeing that I primarily write to myself on here I didn't think it would be that difficult when I started this short lived journey of good deeding. So over the past few weeks of my absence I will say good deeds have been done... but they will not be talked about. Due to personal conflict or lack of luster they will be locked in the vault of silence.

On that note I will say there is one worthy of mentioning. As I sat pondering my thoughts at T.C. Ellis one morning a man walked in. He made a comment about not having money but quickly disputed my look of fear by saying he was not asking for money. See, when people ask for money at TCE (oh yeah, I shorten the name of the boutique to feel cool. NBD.) I want to help them but I don't know how.

This man I could help, kind of. All he wanted was some of the free candy we have at the front desk. I gladly told him he could take as much as he wanted. Selectively running his hand through the jars he explained that he had never been in this position before, he went to church every Sunday, and didn't even like candy but wasn't going to be picky.

As he walked away, pocket full of unsatisfying snickers, I thought to myself: how great would it be if next time he came in I could slip something else in the jar.

Honestly Shelby? How would you ever pull that off?

I wouldn't know he was coming, so what? Tell him to close his eyes and put something else in the jar while he stood there? Good try crazy but your good deeds are not working out! And on top of that I couldn't get him out of my mind. It's like he was that person sent here for me to help and I chicken out. Good going idiot!

And then I was reminded of second chances.

Walking into The Overton to have a lavish drink with some good friends that night I was distracted by a familiar looking jacket.

Eureka! It was him! My candy guy! Or so I thought... It looked like him. He was sitting on a chair in the lobby and didn't seem to be waiting for anyone. This. Was. My. Chance.

Being the Overton goer that I am I knew there was a small nook where they sold little snack items over by the bar. I plopped my purse down, snatched up my brand new Tory Burch wallet (I couldn't get any more cliche) and pounced off.

Rushing to the front desk I was to declare I wanted to buy the WHOLE mass of food in that nook!

Too bad the worker was on the phone.............. Forever.

Eureka times two! My wonderful childhood friend Ryan worked in the restaurant, and thanksto my creepy tendencies I knew he did not get off Christmas so he was there. Proud of my new discovery I turned on my heels, checking quickly that my candy man was still around, and bounced to the dinning room.

There he was! All blacked out and vacuuming.

"Ryan! I need you to do something for me!"

He looked confused.

"I need to buy the things in that nook and have you give it to the homeless man."

There was only cereal. He did it, even though I was unsure if it was the right person. And then Ryan was gone. And then the guy was gone. And that was it. There is no big ending to good deeds. You do it to help someone else after all, not to make yourself feel better or show off. I'm still not even sure it he was homeless. Or if he likes cereal.

First good deed of the day

Bet you thought I was bailing on this good deed thing already. Don't worry, I wasn't. I've actually been immersed in my good deed for days.

Being my first good deed after dishing for the cause of a mission trip, and factoring in that I am broke as a joke, I decided to take this one for the team and do something for myself. I want these deeds to mean something and be big, even if it is only big in my eyes.

For two and a half years now I have liked this boy. He is a wonderful boy. The kind of guy who is always there when you need him. He says the perfect things, and even enjoys gawking over books. The good kind like Ayn Rand's The Fountain Head. And for two and a half years I let myself think he was too good for me. I watched as he dated other people, and I dated other people. We took in each others problems, and all the time I wondered what I didn't have?

This weekend I changed my mind. He came to visit me and I knew it needed to be done. For once I had to ignore the fear, that fear we all have that stops us from being happy. See, I have always been scared of relationships, and wanting to let someone in. It's really scary to know that people are going to hurt you. And that is just the thing. We all know. 

Or at least we think we know. What if we didn't? What if for once we acted like it wasn't going to happen? We were finally going to have that connection that wasn't balancing on the worlds oldest see-saw. There would be no problems, no worries, nothing but bliss.

So as we got monogrammed wine bottles, read silently with one another, danced to the over zealous music from across the street, and smiled at everything, I realized. This. Was. Right. It's as if when you finally let go of all those bad memories, all the broken pieces, it falls perfectly into place.

That boy who called back just to say he didn't like you any more, the one who left you down town, remember the one who took your car to "help someone move" more like move another girl to the movies on a date when he never even brought you to one? The one you thought you could change into liking you, And the guy who said you were not good enough after you gave him everything. Those guys stop mattering. All of the sudden you are laughing at the thought of them meaning something. Anything. 

Because in those moments you and this guy, the one who has your stomach turning and your heart pounding, you two know everything is amazing. As amazing as it can be. And anything else you do, it will be just as amazing, if not more. 

I know what you are thinking, this doesn't last. Forget that frat boy party music, this is what's over zealous! I thought that too. And I won't be shocked if the thought crosses my mind again. But that is when I have to stop myself and remember, this is different. 

I don't believe in that "can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over- the-fence, World Series kind of stuff." But I do believe in finding your best friend.And not your some-of-the-time friend. Not that guy who is awesome to go out with, pays for your meals, and kisses you goodnight like a gentleman. A best friend is the person who looks at you with content. They stick around, and when they stray they come back. You laugh more than you kiss, and you kiss a lot. He holds your hand, and remembers small details even you have forgotten. He sits at your office because you are addicted to work and couldn't miss one day. Find the person who does all of that. Find your best friend and you have found the world.