Why I do it

I have been asked quite a few times over the past few months, "Why do you do it?" Usually they were referring to why I bust my butt in the world of journalism. And most of the time I told them because I have too. I had to finish school so I could get just one job and breathe again. It had been a really long time since I had taken a breath.

But with diploma in hand I can now say, I do it because I love it. Truly love it more than anything else in the world. The feeling I get from writing is overwhelming. The way I watch words flow from my hand is like magic. 

Most people see journalist and they think we are narcissistic, really only in it to get our pretty faces on TV. Well, obviously my pretty face looks great on TV... kidding! I actually look like a five year old in front of a camera. But that isn't it. 

Others think we do it to be pest. Clearly journalist were also the gossip kings and queens of their grade school. But that isn't it at all. See, gossip is all about making up rumors, we are all about finding the facts.

The thing no one ever does is ask us why. Why do you do what you do? 

Well, I'm here to tell you why I do what I do. 

I'm a journalist because being a journalist is what I know. Everything from finding a story to writing the script is in my blood. We hope with our words we can effect just one person, that someone can be changed by the things we produce. There are life lessons wrapped up in every inch of this job. We see the world through different eyes. To us a wreck is a story, it is finding out why that exact car was in the exact place at the exact second. Why the world works the way it does. 

Like one time when we were dealing with a teen death. It was obvious by the witnesses there was more to this that a simple hit and run. My mind was reeling, how sad it was, how educational it could be. To me this boy was not just an unnamed victim. He was my world. I had to protect him, and I had to give him justice. Of course, going to the prayer circle of high school students made me look like a harasser. But in my mind all I wanted to be was this boys guardian. 

There is an extent that journalist have to cut them selves off from a story. To most it seems we are heartless, but to the secluded world of writers we know it is just the opposite. The reason we do what we do is because we are so emotionally attached. I would stay up for days hunting down a missing person, or to get to the bottom of a conspiracy that may help even just two people keep a job. It is because we care with every piece of ourself that we do these things. 

And then there are the personal reasons for being a journalist, I personally have three:

1) To have an interview like Sweet Brown. I'm not sure if you have seen her... she is the one that said "Oh lord Jesus it's a fire!" Let me just say, this would be not only the biggest test of my ability, but also the best thing ever. Having to keep a straight face while you know you are in the process of making someone a YouTube sensation would be magnificent. 

2) I really want to go to jail for a source. What an honorable thing to know you have enough integrity to suffer just to keep a source unknown. This doesn't happen often now that we can't use unknown sources, but you just never know. 

3) And of course, I want to be a POW. Let's be honest, the stories you could tell after being tortured. And how great to know you are fighting for your country in a way most don't. I'm too scared to be a soldier, but I never said I wouldn't keep my mouth shut while someone was plopping water on my forehead. 

Oh... and wanting to drive the FOX car. Clearly my number one reason. Everything is better in the FOX car.

Today is the first day of school

...And I'm not going. I NEVER have to go again. 

And I'm sad about it. 

I never thought I would see the day. I wanted to graduate more than anything in the world. Pushed my way through classes in a mere three years and said see you never to the REC and library fees that I visited once each. Even last night as my roommates packed up their bag and debated bringing actual supplies I wasn't sad.
Life seemed great!

This morning however, it was not so great. When you aren't in school any more you aren't a college student. Well duh! Like that isn't the quote of the year... but what I mean by isn't so literal.

See, what I didn't expect to find out was that I really am no longer a college student. I can't walk to campus when I want. I can't go eat at the SUB. I can't hang out in the front office of the mass comm building like the creep I so gladly enjoyed being this summer.

Sure, I can do all these things technically. It's not like I'd be banned or escorted off the property. But honestly I just can't.

I am no longer in that group of people who go to classes, wait for Friday nights, and complain about doing their homework. I no longer have homework, expect for planing my next day of work. Ever heard someone say they miss homework? Well, you won't actually hear me say that. Poor people doing theirs tonight because professors think it's funny to start the year off with hammer in hand! There are things I do miss though. Like not seeing the inside of another football game. They don't tell you while in school that journalist don't get passes... and sorry Tech, you are a bit steep on those prices.

What about riding in cars completely sober? Being crazy in the back seat. Or having nacho day because you are about to go to a Mexico themed party and obviously have to get as much use out of the $4.00 blanket you made into a poncho. Or best of all, dancing in your friend apartment like the club stopped by your house. There is nothing better than dancing in your friends apartment.

The more I think about it the more I know I will miss these times, and the more real it is beginning to seem. But after a day of moping around in my own self pity (poor Shelby, she can't drink her days away and spend her nights acting a fool any more) I have come to the conclusion that I shouldn't be sad at all.

I had a wonderful time in college. The experience is irreplaceable. But my future is bright and the road ahead will be a great one. Many people told me I would regret graduating early, they said it was a mistake. The fear of being the person who thought it was had weighed me down for months. Today, right here in this place, I can say I will never be that person. I will never regret living up my college days, and I will never regret ending them when I did.

Oh, this is what lonely is

Here is my situation: Just got home from work, running shorts on, hair up in a ponytail, The City playing on full blast, and I am all alone. 

Walking down the stairs with my laptop in hand I was really excited to blog. Then I started thinking... I am kind of lonely. Don't get my wrong, I'm happy, and this isn't some cry for help. But the truth is, I'm all alone. It is a Friday night and I am by myself.

Quite a few moments have lead up to this point. 

Like high school. High school, when one night without your friends meant social suicide. Maybe you could spare a Tuesday night, but honestly, why aren't you just studying with them at Starbucks? Oh, you aren't in any of the same classes? Who cares! "Mom, you mean you don't want to drop what you are doing to bring me to Megan's house so we can do nothing? BUT MOM!! Didn't you ever have a life as exciting as mine?!?! If you did you would understand!!!"

And college. Remember those nights when you were wasted with all your friends? And remember how much fun it was? The joy of waking up sleeping on the couch with your roommate, because who doesn't love a sleep over? "You sleep on the couch and I'll sleep on the floor. Or you sleep in your bed and I'll sleep on the floor." Clearly I love the floor... Kristin I had to put this in for you. 

But what happens when you are no longer in those stages? What if you are as far away as you can possibly be?

See, I am no longer in high school. I have no reason to study at Starbucks. Though, the baristas at the Starbucks down the street probably interact with me more each morning than anyone else during the day. And I don't drink. I don't like it much any more. I'm not sure if you know, but bars aren't the most fun when you don't drink. And when you act like bars aren't fun people stop asking you to go to them. 

Oh, bug the most obvious sign of them all... this weekend is boys bid night. Not sure if you know what this is, but boys bid night is the best thing that ever happened to college. See, it is the night that all the new frat boys get their bids, and everyone else in town gets drunk. I've been working at a boutique where all these girls keep coming in looking for the perfect bid night dress. 

Yes, this outfit must be picked out in advance. It has to be just slutty enough for the wasted faced guy you are dancing with to see your underwear, but tight enough that he cant actually get to them. As all these cute, innocent, girls were picking out their perfect ensemble, all I could think was wow... I'm too old for that. Not that I am too old per-say, but I am no longer in a state where I can be surrounded by that kind of action. Lets just say I'd be better off walking in wearing my cap and gown than I would trying to dress like a freshmen.

Boys bid night last year I woke up the next day with a bowl of pasta in my lap, black X's imprinted on various parts of my face and arms, and all my clothes on. I go to boys bid night this year and I wake up the next morning having to run, and go to work, and be presentable (camera ready as they like to call it in my business).

So here I am. Thinking my night is the bomb.com until I realize it is Friday night and I am sitting all alone. It doesn't upset me all that much but it does make me wonder. How did I get here? And will it always be this way? 

It's not like this was my life even just 6 months ago. It wasn't until I let my job take over that things started to change. I wouldn't change what I did for the world. I have come to terms that I may not be exactly where I want to be, but I am quite mature and established for my age. But is this the price I had to pay? Will I forever spend Friday nights alone, blogging to a computer screen? 

It's beginning to feel like I'm a stranger to a world I once knew. A world I used to be pretty good at living in.

Unfortunately I don't really have a good solution for this one. I feel bad leaving on this note, but I guess some times you just have to leave it on a question and hope for the best. I can say, growing up is hard, and knowing where you fit in during different parts of it is even worse.

Let the music speak

I have always been an avid fan of the comment "If only my brain would retain half the school knowledge that it does the song lyrics."

I don't really wish the terrible thought on myself of course. There is no better feeling in this world than turing the song that encompasses all of your thoughts up and letting it overtake you. We use music as an escape, and that is exactly what it should be. 

Everyone has that song, or perhaps a few. They mean so much to you, and for good reason. The lyrics were written for you. They speak mountains and they carry you through the hard nights. Some times we take for granted the power music has. 

I will never quite understand why people say they hate a song. How do you hate something so pure? Each song has a different meaning, each made for someone. To hate something of that magnitude, it is like hating emotion. Sure, some songs aren't going to be your taste. I get that. But to hate music seems stronger than hating another person. 

Just saying...

Tonight I found a new song that sang every word right at me. Its meaning captured my being. I've listened to it at least 30 times. 

That is what songs do to me. They draw me in. They take over. I need to know their every word. Feel their every note. For a brief moment I want to be the song because in that song I will no longer have to feel my pain.

Try this beauty out... yeah, I worked at a radio station. I know how to link to YouTube. It is Snow Patrol "You Could Be Happy"

You could be happy, I hope you are
You made me happier than I'd been by far
Somehow everything I own smells of you
And for the tiniest moment it's all not true
Do the things that you always wanted to
Without me there to hold you back, don't think, just do
More than anything I want to see you, girl
Take a glorious bite out of the whole world


For me this song has more than just one stable meaning. But it was everything I had been thinking in the past few days wrapped up into a little under three minutes of bliss. 

I chose these lyrics because they were the very first to stand out. See I have encountered a moment where someone said they held onto my smell. It was wonderful. To know you can stick around in someones mind just by your smell. He wore a vest around for a week. But in that moment he was sad. And so was I. We were sad for the same reason. For wanting one another. But we were sad apart. 

His last words hit me hard. He didn't want me to make a decision about my career based on him. I just wasn't good enough for him right then. My whole world, wrapped into that one conversation. 

I have spent quite some time in the past few years fighting with myself about my career. Trying to be the best, trying to be something big, something I approve of. I want to take a glorious bite out of the whole world. But along with this I recently learned that the whole world means taking a bite out of someone else too.

Never did I think you could have both, and I was set on having the career. Until I wasn't good enough for either. 

"You could be happy and I won't know

But you weren't happy the day I watched you go"

And then there is this. I was not happy. But that is why it is the first line in the song. I shouldn't have been happy when it happened. I am happy now and he probably doesn't know. It isn't because he is gone. I miss the friend I had in him. But I am happy because, like I have said before, some times happy is all you have left. And I'm in a good place. 

But none of this song is happy. It isn't supposed to be. Though by the end, I am happy. All of its words together make me feel joy. The last note leads me to hope. This is what songs should do. They tear down your emotion. From beginning to end they let you watch the story unfold in a different way. You are no longer living it but watching it. And right when you think you have to go back to being hurt, or happy, or whatever you were feeling before the song, they resolve it. 

I was not happy that day. Or the days that followed. But what this song says is that one day I will be happy. One day I will take my bite out of this world. He might not have wanted to stop me. The door closing behind me may have been the last thought of me in his mind. But that is the beauty of a song, for just a moment you are the world, and what you want to happen or want to feel is what it is. The song is you.

Fear isn't always a bad thing

I have this intense fear of rain. Maybe even worse than my fear of mascots... don't question. So this fear of rain, it isn't like we are worst enemines. No no, that would be too easy. It is one of those things where every time there is the smallest drop of rain on the ground I am bed ridden for the day. 

I simply can't drive in the rain. 

Don't be so quick to judge though. There is good reason for my irrational, run the other way, cry to myself in a corner, fear. To put it in perspective, from the outside you would think it was a grandma driving my Jeep, and from the inside a teenage girl whose first boyfriend just broke her heart and left her to make the journey home with only a Taylor Swift CD.

See, when I was a senior in high school I totaled my car due to the rain. Well, rain is giving too much credit. There was maybe one drop of water soaking its way into the pavement. But that doesn't mean my car did not nail it right on the head, spin out like a maniac, and ram right into the over sized monster of a tree! Did I mention we had just completed the painting of our windows for the first day. No better way to show those underclassmen who is boss that a bunch of ridiculous sayings on every senior girls window.

This was my sweet baby Suzie. She wasn't actually sweet... we like to refer to her as the devil car. Oh, and don't mind me, my horribly colored hair, and my extra 50 pounds. High school wasn't my best of looks. Do however note the "Get on your knees" writing on the window. That car ended in a mangled mess which had to be thrown into a waste basket by hand, every ping of a part made my heart sink. But you can bet your bottom dollar out of all the windows, this beauty right here was the only one that didn't shatter in on me. Made for a great conversation topic as they jaws of lifed me out.

But back to Suzie. She made it very clear she wanted to end my life that day. Every cop at the scene was saying how lucky I was, and the miles of traffic (good thing I decided to put on this show right as everyone was getting off work, in the middle of the week, on a one lane road, of the only entrance to the most populated subdivision in the area). Too bad I'm a hot mess and wouldn't let that happen. Though I have to say back then I wasn't scared of the rain. Honestly, I was an idiot. 

Not only did I look horrible in high school, but I felt that way too. It was a really bad time for me. I had friends, but I didn't think they liked me. I went to school and hated every minute of it. I was a cheerleader and  my coach ran me into a hole of depression. I had more psychiatrist than I did clothes in my closet, and if you know me that is HARD to believe. 

It took me a very long time to get over all this. To start to tolerate myself again. It isn't something you can change over night. And those bad thoughts I often had aren't ones that I will ever forget. 

The truth is, there was a moment when my car was colliding with that tree, as the glass was blanketing me, that I didn't want to have to drive in the rain again. It wasn't something I ever told anyone, and thankfully when the air bag hit my phone disconnected from my mom (by the way, don't talk on the phone while driving unless you think your mom hearing your last words is something you would be okay with) because as that wreck occurred around me, and to me, I was hoping it would take me with it.

You may be asking yourself right about now, what does all this have to do with fear? Well frankly, everything.

Tonight driving home from work, clutching my steering wheel, crying to myself, just knowing in my head I wouldn't make it through this light drizzle, the thought dawned on me. I am scared because I have something to live for.

Being scared isn't a bad thing. 

When I got in that first wreck I was so selfish and so lonely. Looking back now I know how bad it would have hurt my family, and my friends if I didn't just walk away with a black eye and some cuts. But at the time I couldn't understand. I couldn't see the beauty in the things around me, or the beauty in myself for that matter.

I still struggle with it, as I'm sure most people do. But at the end of the day you kind of need to toot your own horn. Sure there are things about me I would like to change, and I have been told I'm not good enough. Twice now, once at work and once from someone I thought saw my value. But in my mind I know I am. 

Honestly, I'm kind of pretty great. Everyone is. Now getting in a wreck wouldn't upset me because I would have to drive around a Pontiac Grand AM with three pillows so I can see over the steering wheel... it would upset me because I would be losing so many wonderful things. So many amazing people in my life, people that see my worth and help me live it. And I would be losing myself. 

There are so many things I want to do. I want to get so far in my career that even I look back and say I've made it. And I want to see the world, share drinks and laughs with amazing people. A part of me even wants to find someone wonderful to have my every day with. Now now people, don't get too excited... this is a new feeling so we need not jump to conclusions. A lot of me still thinks marrying myself sounds pretty good! 

But that is the thing with life. As you move on and grow up you really do start to see the wonder in it all. Not every day is great, there will be periods of your life where things aren't going well. But even in those periods, no matter how many people point out your bad qualities, there are other people who can't wait to see you strive, and I hope that others can see at some point they themselves are one of them too. 

The pedestal

Yesterday at lunch one of my dear friends was talking about how we put people on a pedestal. We find someone who gives off a great first impression and immediately they are post marked as perfect in our book. She then said when things end with someone we find to be perfect we have to take the time to see maybe they weren't so bright and shiny after all. Maybe we let a few flaws get away while standing on the lower ground. 

I had never really heard something like this before, but the more I thought about it the more it seemed to be true. We really do give those we enjoy a little too much wiggle room. Perhaps to see if they will fall.

See, I was putting someone on a pedestal not too long ago. For good reason. They deserved to be on one. But they also decided to jump down. It took that conversation to realize it, but what I had thought was all laugh lines and holding hands was not. 

We have these great things called smart phones, and one day I went back through some text messages to put me in a good mood. Oh yeah if you didn't know I'm a professional creep. But what I found was not so good. These things I thought were said so sweetly and with such passion really were not. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't night and day. I was picturing I love you and getting I hate you. I'm not some crazy delusional. Though part of me did wonder what I was seeing then that was clearly not there. 

I think we do this with a lot of our life. We want to be prettier, we want to be skinnier, we want to have a lot of friends. You can suck in your stomach all day, but the extra skin is still tucked away. Eventually it has to be let out.

Now I'm not saying this is a bad thing. And I'm not saying that after every relationship you will be able to look back and say the other person wasn't great. Honestly, the person on my mind still is great. Wonderful to be exact. It was the situation we were in that wasn't. You can't change the cards you were dealt, but you can be a little smarter about the way you play them. 

Hearing my friend say those words helped me see I will be okay. It isn't a coping mechanism, or a sure fire get over you plan. It is simply a way to examine the truth, something we as humans stray so far from.  

Mean doesn't look good on anyone

Yesterday I was really mean, and frankly it sucked. I did it with complete intention to hurt someone because I felt like they hurt me. But in the end it hurt more to know I did it than I'm sure the words hurt them.

I was woken from a nap by some guy banging on the door trying to fit keys for my new roommate. After the initial shock of this crude noise I realized the blood in my veins was boiling thinking how this should not have happened. I was still in a half sleeping state. And it was my only nap in a LONG time! My mind kept screaming "You got screwed!" My hands were shaking with anger, teeth clinched so tight not even the jaws of life could have pried them apart. This man was frolicking around my apartment un announced. He didn't have a Cottages shirt on... he didn't even look like he worked there. I stood in awe as his loud voice rang in my, what were just calmed, eardrums.

And what did I do? Send that dirty text message I knew I shouldn't have. Boy was it bad. F word flying, capital screamy letters everywhere, and oh those nasty periods, the ones that are meant to strike a chord deep in your stomach. Yup, I acted like a five year old, only five year olds aren't even this ridiculous.

My body was still convulsing on the way to work as I fumed to my mother on the phone. Pretty sure there was visible smoke puffing out of my ears.I huffed my way to the desk and hastily flipped on Pinterest to back up my anger. Only Pinterest decided to teach me a little lesson from my favorite singer... Taylor Swift thought I should know how much words hurt.

Reluctance poured over me. I couldn't believe how rude I had been. How hasty I had become. See, I recently found my voice. Telling people how I feel isn't so hard any more. But this time I took it a little too far. It is true, I still felt like she owed me something. In my mind I could justify it this way, She chose to leave us for her boyfriend, I have not chosen the path I'm on and she wasn't considering my feelings when I had considered hers before. I did not chose to graduate with no job, or lose someone I cared about, and I surely didn't choose to live with someone I don't know.

But the more I thought about it the more I realized that is exactly it. I didn't chose any of these things, but I did chose to lose my cool. Sure I got my point across, but what does that really do? I don't feel better, I feel like crap.

I couldn't believe being mean could feel this bad. "The only words you'll regret more than the ones left unsaid are the ones you used to intentionally hurt someone," rang through my head all night.

Why are we mean? Ever. How do we find that balance between voicing your hurt and screaming at a wall? And why can't we just suck it up and be nice? It isn't like I could have done anything to change her decision, so why not just get over it? I'm not sure it will be easy, but I truly want to stop being mean, and mad for that matter. My explosion always begins with me getting mad. I'm not hasty often, but even just once really upset me.

That is my problem, and I think it is a lot of peoples. We get so upset so quickly when something isn't going our way that we resort to the only thing we know. Mean. Especially as girls, we grow up thinking coning our way through life will get us to where we want to be. We fight dirty, and wipe off the dirt like nothing happened.

girls think they have to finish on top and not standing up for yourself is wrong. But haven't our mothers always said "Kill them with kindness." Not that it isn't hasty in itself. Perhaps we shouldn't kill them but try to kill our self being kind. Honestly, it can't be that hard to bite your tong, even when your face is blood shot. So here is to trying my best to be nice, even when it seems much easier to be mean.

When being happy is all you have left

The past few weeks have really gotten to me. I keep waiting for that mental break down to happen. It has to be right around the corner. Even the slightest movement has me preparing for the waterworks. But for some odd reason it just hasn't come. 

I don't know if it is the whole adult thing or what, but it seems everything has been falling out of place only for me to look it in the eyes and say "So what?"

Graduation day came and I didn't have a full time reporting job. Months of crying, 60 application, and a handful of headaches later I'm not even upset. I looked that jobless mess in the face and said, so what? I get to stay in Lubbock for a while and be with people I love dearly. Maybe I can even catch a drink now that I'm not enrolled in 19 hours, working two jobs and interning. Is this what college was supposed to be like? It was so hard to understand people saying it will happen when it should happen, but I finally understand. It really will happen when it happens, and for now I need to take a second to breathe.

And him. I had the opportunity to be with him, now it is gone. He was great and I miss it but then I looked to myself and said, so what? What are you going to do if someone doesn't like you back? There is nothing you can say to change that. You are good enough and someone else will see it. Oh you still think it has to be him? News flash... it can't be! See it's as easy as that.

Then there is money. I've been blowing money on clothes like I can go buy a new monopoly board with my last few dollars and be dandy. And when the money runs out I say, so what? I'll get my paycheck in a few days. Oh wait... this isn't a good thing to say so what about is it? Well we can't all be perfect.

As hard as I try to find my reason to break down I just cant. I feel like 21 years with myself is a pretty good time frame for knowing me. I understand my breaking points and know my limits. But the more I think about it I'm starting to realize maybe I don't need to break down. Maybe this time I can handle it. Maybe this time all that is left is happiness.

I'm starting to learn how fun it is to be happy. Truly happy. Not the fake kind like in Mean Girls when Regina George says she likes your skirt and then calls it ugly behind your back. No, this time I am truly happy. Sure I hurt when I think about him, and sure I would like to have a full time reporting job, but when you cant change your present you might as well put it to good use. 

And besides, like my friend Amy said, "It's not too much to tell them you want a job. It is too much to say the gun is loaded and you will off yourself if the job isn't yours." 

I can't change what is happening in my life, and frankly I don't know that I would. I'm finally starting to learn what being happy is. All my life I thought you had to have a smile on your face all hours of the day, but that isn't being happy. Happy is knowing when things go wrong you are content with yourself and wont let it destroy you. It is waking up in the morning and knowing today will be a good day regardless of what happens. And most of all happy is knowing yourself inside and out. 

It took a long time for me to be willing to admit my character traits, and honestly I would never have been able to do it without him. He told me I was pretty but self conscious, I was ambitious but didn't have the confidence to back it up and I was nice but too nice. He was right. No one has ever summed it up for me, but now that I know I can embrace it. Though, I will never stop being what he calls "too nice." Sorry I'm not sorry I love giving little gifts. My aunt taught me well!

Today I am happy. Tomorrow I will be happy. One day something will knock me down, but even then I hope to stay happy. 

Fifty shades of obsessed... or something like that

So this Fifty Shades of Grey thing... I think I'm in love. Or obsessed, I cant decide. 

Oh, and this picture right here, it is my life. But lets be honest, no therapist could convince me that Grey is not out there. 

Here is the thing. I started reading on a plane ride back to Lubbock one day and haven't stopped since.

Did you know these books are dirty? I didn't until I was wandering near the ozone layer. I'm not sure it is true but I'm pretty positive the girls next to me knew what was up the whole time. Or she was trying to get a peek. She was engaged, and I wish her all the luck, and that her life be filled with nights of red rooms.

But this is where my obsession began, and now I can't seem to get out of it. See, I've read the first book three times and am on my second run through the series. I'm telling you, Christian Grey has really got it going on. And not just because he runs his fingers through his dark lushes locks or lets his chest hair peek out the tops of his crisp white shirts. No no, those are only little things I love about him.

Oh, and for the record, if whomever they cast for the movie doesn't have chest hair the will NOT be seeing my money at the box office. 

The love I have for these books seemed okay up until a few days ago. My roommate Kristin is a bit upset that I am now reading them for the second time yet haven't even finished the Hunger Games once. Stupid Capitol trying to send me back into the games! Not happening. 

And then I noticed the pattern. I was warned about this, but didn't honestly think it would happen. I was staying up until 2 a.m. Waking up early. Getting to classes 30 minutes before they began. And have you ever seen someone type underneath the keyboard on a computer? I've mastered that skill... oh wait... I was actually reading how Fifty likes to give spankings. 

I've tried to read other books, I really have. Three of them to be exact. But nothing was comparing. Nothing seemed as good as living in Christian Grey's company each night (and day). And then there was the incident at work. One of my friends was saying she feels sad reading them because she knows Grey is only in the books. I didn't miss a beat to reply "I'm not sad, I'm seeing Grey tonight." Oh you didn't know he waits for me at the Cottages each evening when I return home?

UHHHHHHH........ AWKWARD.

So fine, I have a problem. I love a fake character. But isn't that what books are supposed to make you do? Aren't we supposed to be so entranced by the characters in a novel because they are so delicately sculpted to fit our every need? See, I realize now I'm not reading Fifty Shades for the sex scenes. Sure, every girl wants their version of porn, and frankly we are doing it in a classy way so it's fine. But what I really want out of these heated pages is the comfort Grey gives, that one we only see in books. 

When I was younger books were all I cared about. My mom loves to remind me when I had to use the restroom as a small child I would scream "MOM! I need 17 books!" The funny thing was, I could never quite seem to actually read them. During grade school I was diagnosed with dyslexia. By the way, who came up with that word? They were honestly dooming those who have it. Took me years to learn to spell it correctly. Anyways, I was never able to read well. Looking at the print in a book was like looking at a jigsaw puzzle. Ever seen a speed reader? I'm great a pretending to be one. I can stare blankly at a page just long enough to not be questioned about actually reading it. 

As a kid it was incredibly hard to deal with. Knowing I couldn't be let into this secret world. I never got the book worm award, or anywhere close. Popcorn reading made me want to vomit over the nerves I'd collect before my turn. And reading to the younger classes was the scariest thing. When 2nd graders are correcting the 5th grade reader it can get a little awkward. 

Being diagnosed shed a new light on the situation. I learned how to read in new ways. I was no longer the stupid one. And frankly I knew I had to take advantage of it.

That is the power of a page turner. Escapism. Some find their fix with drugs or alcohol, some in shopping (oh wait that means I have two addictions), and many people find it in books. It is such a beautiful thing to have something in which we can completely shut ourselves off from the world for a period of time and enter a parallel universe. 

I believe when you find a great book you shouldn't want to put it down. Living your real life should feel a little different, like a part of you is missing when you aren't gripping the thin paper pages. It makes life more exciting when we have the chance to get away. So for now I'm away with Grey, tucked in his TV room ready to go to first base! (Fifty Shades lovers that one was for you).

You cant make change happen

I have finally come to the realization that you cant make people change. Try as you may, people are who they are. Being your best or doing your best wont stop that. Realizing it hurts, but maybe it is for the better.

All I wanted was for one person to see how great they are. In my mind it was such an easy thing. Just be sweet and give it your all, eventually he will see how good it can be and show that side you fell for. The thing with that is some people don't see it. Their mind is stuck on another path, they have another idea of how things should be. Your job is to not get caught in the storm.

My clothes are wet. Soaking. The storm engulfed me. 

This has happened before, same person same situation. However this time I'm a little different. Don't get me wrong, it hurts. I really thought things would work out, or at least not end like this. But this time I don't need to cry. 

It's hard not to shed tears. It is hard to leave something behind when you really enjoyed it. No one eats just one bite of the cake and walks away satisfied. You want the whole cake. You want to savor every single bite and make it last as long as you can. Of course the cake eventually gets eaten. That is what I couldn't portray. I couldn't make it clear that what was happening was okay, what was going on was not a life sentence but how things could be. 

So now life is moving on. I'm a completely different person than I was even just a few days ago. New roommate, new degree, new job, new relationship status, new life. New is scary. New isn't where I wanted to be. But then again new is what it has to be. 

I wish so badly that I could have shown him what he was worth. Help him understand that some people really do make the difference. And that it wasn't supposed to be scary. 

In the end though you cant make it happen. Eventually there will be someone who likes you for everything you are. They want you to make them little gifts. They aren't embarrassed or quiet about you to their friends and family. They will want to be around you just to see you. They wont know where the future is going, but they will give their present its all. 

Someone wont be scared to jump, even if it isn't the right time and place. Because in the end you don't need a guy. You don't need anyone but yourself, though there is someone out there who will make it seem like you don't have a guy, but instead that little piece of the puzzle which makes your corners connect.

The first day of the rest of days

Today marks the first day of the rest of my days. It isn't much different than yesterday. But today, I am no longer a college student. I can no longer blame frat parties or class. There is no more time to say I will do that later. What I do today will effect my tomorrow. Honestly, it is scary. But it is just the same. 

Everyone told me this day will come, we work our whole lives for it. Preschool prepares you for elementary school. Leaving your parents at the door of that class room helps you learn how to let go. Your first boyfriend teaches you there will be so many more. Walking the halls of high school gets you to college, and college prepares you for beyond. What they don't tell you, is that there really isn't a way to prepare.

Surfing Youtube the other day I came across a clip of Taylor Swift talking about her song "Fifteen" and how it is an anthem to her best friend. A staple item in which they can look back on their days in high school. When I was there, when I walked the halls of McNeil I hated it. Now that I'm gone I see the moments that shaped my life. 

Not to get all Taylor Swift on you... 

I miss the nights where 10 girls packed into my minute bedroom on piles of blankets just to watch Friends reruns. How carefree we were, how little we had to worry. The biggest problem was how late we could sleep and still have time to put on full makeup to walk to Kenny's before they stopped serving breakfast tacos. We sat up late talking about things that meant the world to us, boys, clothes, life. In those moments we never thought we would see an end. There would never be a day in which we were not friends, a day where we fought for more than a few punches, or a day that our lives would bring us to different places. In our minds we were in that moment forever. 

And boys, I miss when boys were your world, because your world was so small that is all you needed. When impressing a boy was the thing you had to succeed at. If you failed, there was always another. I remember my most valued competitor, Michael Jarrott. Boy did I want him to be mine, little did I know then the chase was much more thrilling than the reward. But he was so cute. So mysterious. And so Michael. 

What about standing up for a cause? Remember those days? Like standing up for being a nerd. Or being the guy who strips down the hallways five days before graduation... he wasn't even graduating, but he had a cause. The insane effort we put forth as cheerleaders only to find out spring show doesn't matter after high school. It was fighting for a cause because we couldn't fail. When you are in high school your parents will back you up. When you are out of college you back yourself. 

We did all of these things to get us to where we are today. Our lives have changed, though not drastically, but in a very significant way. Today I become an adult, though I'm not sure I know what adult means. The day before my graduation I was lucky enough to see one of my oldest and dearest friends. Sitting on my hotel bed talking to Kaylyn I was reminded just how precious those old memories can be.

I was expecting graduation to do it for me. To make me realize what being in the real world is like. Honestly, I feel the exact same. Perhaps these big milestones are not meant to make us change. Maybe they are just here to track the days. We are still the same person as yesterday, we just can no longer use the excuse of being a student. 

When you can justify justification

As a young girl I learned that I had this insane talent for justifying things. 


"Mom, I need these shoes. They will make me look so good on camera. No, no, you wont see them, but the soles, they are the perfect width and height so my head hits at just the right spot on the TV." 


"Oh this small vase, I know it wont fit flowers or a normal size candle, but it will look so great on our stove. We only have to move it every time we cook so it doesn't over heat and crack."


"You need that dress. That dress, though you can only wear it once, will make you look so good tonight when we go to the same bar we have gone to every night since we moved to Lubbock."


You cant say those aren't GREAT justifications.


But, lately it has gotten really bad. The other day I found myself justifying my justification. It's a big problem. See, I have found myself wandering into quite a few stores lately. I don't know what happens. I'm just walking along the street admiring the sun, and all of the sudden I'm standing at the cash register draped in clothes. I can't get enough! Shoes, shirts, dresses, then you need the perfect necklace to go with.


It was easy at first, I kept assuring myself that I needed these clothes for my job. The saying does go, "Dress for the job you want not the job you have." But when my oh-so-wonderful roomie Kristin walked into my closet only to cry out in dismay "Shelby! You have to clean this out!" I knew I had a problem. Immediately my thought was why? Why was I doing this? And then it hit me... Obviously I need to buy clothes to cope with the fact that I am about to be in the real world and my money will go to bills not ballet flats.


Did I seriously just justify my crazy obsession with clothes? That doesn't even make sense!


So, as any great therapist would do, I evaluated myself. Why do we use justification? Why do I think I need to escape in a world of silk tops and hi-lo dresses?


Confronting yourself isn't always easy, but I finally began to land on an answer. See, I think I run to clothes because they are something I can hold onto. I don't know where I will be in a month, I don't even know where I will be next week. And when I do leave I know I can't pack up my friends in a box and take then with me. They only thing I will have are the things I have bought.


People say things don't make you happy, things wont keep your life full. Sometimes people are wrong. 


Perhaps I am a little shallow, but at least I know it. Obviously buying up all the clothes in Lubbock isn't a solution for my being scared of the future, but it is a tangible thing I keep around so I don't have to think about it. Facing your fears is a great thing, but in my mind it is easy to say my fear can't be faced for another week, so until then I'd rather keep my anxiety level under control.