What a trip

I love when I find something that I didn’t know I needed.

I planned to spend the rest of my weekend partying with friends and possibly not remembering any of it. It was Rugbyfest, what better to do, right? Last minute on Saturday night I decided to splurge a little and drive myself to the state line to see my grandparents in Louisiana. It was the best idea I’d had in a while. Driving the two hours to their front step was the most liberating thing. I got to jam out and just be myself for a full 120 minutes. Gosh I needed it. And I didn’t even know it till after it happened.

What is it about driving that makes me feel free? Is it the fact that I’m flying down the road at 70 miles per hour? Is it that I can turn my music up as loud as I want and it doesn’t bother anyone? Whatever it is, I absolutely love it.

While in visiting my grandparents my Grandmother and I took a trip to WalMart. There I learned one of the great things about Louisiana: liquor in the grocery store. As I was walking and gazing into all of the beautiful bottles of wine that I’m used to on the alcohol aisle I ran into a bottle of Jack Daniels. It didn’t quite click at first till I saw a bottle of Crown. I looked back, thought for a second and remembered that in Louisiana they can sell liquor in the grocery stores. I then quickly decided that I needed to buy something. I found a bottle of Belvedere and he was glued to my hand. Half the price of the one I bought in Texas for my birthday! Then I saw the Nuvo. It’s shiny pink bottle called to me. It went straight into the basket. Lately I’ve been craving Tequila Rose so I looked around for the tasty treat and found it sitting on a lower shelf, patiently waiting for me, so it joined the Nuvo in the basket and I sadly put the Belvedere back by the Ciroq. My reasoning was that I already had a Belvedere bottle for my collection and wasn’t going to buy three bottles of liquor on a WalMart trip with my Grandmother; two was plenty. I would have felt bad, but Gran herself had put some gin in the cart first. Needless to say, I’m going to have a few great nights in Nacogdoches once I get home.

I also splurged on the new Taylor Swift cd. I’ve been trying to avoid it, and I had done a good job so far. But I had a good tip night at work on Saturday and money burns a hole in my pocket, so here I am sitting on the bed listening to Taylor sing me into a blissful coma. I wish and pray to God every day to give me her talent. The way she writes her songs just gets me. I try to write my best, and in prose pieces it works, but I can’t write a song to save my life.

And I’d love to. I’d love to sit down and pour my heart out into a song, pick up a guitar, add music and sing it for the whole world, for my friends, just for myself.

Blogging

I have been trying to blog for at least the past two weeks. I can't ever make my mind up about what I want to blog about. I don't want to sound redundant and write about the same thing all the time: I'm sad, I'm lonely, I want a boyfriend. I want to write something profound. Something that people will read, then sit back and go "wow, I never looked at it that way before". I've been told I don't need to push it. It'll come to me when I'm not trying. But still, my fans beckon me and I need to write something.

My indecisiveness about what to blog about did lead me to confront myself with the fact that I am not very good at making up my mind. It doesn't matter what it is. Let's go with a general example here. This morning I woke up in time to visit a couple friends at work before I started my day. I didn't want to waste time with taking a shower so I brushed my teeth, fluffed my hair and began the long staring contest with my clothes.

I looked at the pile on my couch, didn't see anything that appealed to me. I kicked around the lump of half dirties on the floor and decided on my favorite pair of jeans that I'd worn on Tuesday. Then I got to the closet. The t-shirts, sweaters, jackets, and other assorted tops glared at me, all calling to be worn. The problem this morning was that I didn't want to look like I was trying to look good. I wasn't going to waste time on make-up and my hair looked rough, so my outfit couldn't outshine my face. With everything in the closet looking too nice or too warm for the day I turned back to the lump of half dirties. I pulled on my cut-up, off the shoulder Old Navy sweatshirt thinking that it looked raggedgy enough to pull off the grunge look I was going for. I then remembered that I wore it on my quick trip to Kroger the night before, and also around the house all day on Tuesday, and to sleep on Monday night, my friends were probably getting tired of seeing it (and it should probably be washed).

Then I had the great idea to put on a relatively cute top with nice shoes so it would look like I care at least a little bit about how I appear to others. Like Oprah says, you never know when you're going to meet your Prince Charming, so you always need to dress to impress. I reached into the closet for my old standby, a pink, patterned shirt from Lane Bryant that is cut just low enough to let people know I'm a woman and flows out just enough to hide the biscuits and gravy I had last night. I looked in the mirror at myself, thinking I was ready to run out the door when I then realized that I had a huge black streak on the side of my pants. I'd worn them when I was painting with Caroline on Tuesday and they were now showing how artsy I am. I threw them back into the half dirty pile thinking that I needed to move them into the completely dirty pile and grabbed a pair of capris that I'd worn the day before. I moved back to the mirror and changed my mind again. The shirt coupled with my natural face made me look washed out and like I didn't know fashion at all. It had to go.

I was just about to crawl back into bed and forget all about the friends that I'd hoped to see before I had to get to work when I spotted my dad's old Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt laying on top of my clean pile of clothes. It, coupled with a green tank top, would be the perfect choice for my morning on the town. No one can blame me for looking bad because I was supporting my team (even though I'm one of the few that still do).

I re-fluffed my hair, all the changing had flattened it again, slipped my pre-tied tennis shoes on and ran out the door.

So, as I said, I'm completely indecisive. Even when it comes down on how to look grunge enough.

And in complaining about having nothing to blog about it seems that I found something to say. I may not be able to make up my mind up about what to blog or what to wear but I sure can ramble on about things.