Apologize, Please.

I simply can’t tolerate people who won’t acknowledge their faults. I realize that it’s hard to admit when I’m wrong – sometimes I don’t even realize I’m wrong. And I know that I’m selfish – it’s easy to be. But, if I’m made aware of my actions, I think I’m quick to own up, take responsibility, and try to right the wrong. I don’t have trouble apologizing if I know I’ve hurt someone and I desperately want to assure them that I’ll attempt to never do it again.
Somehow, though, no matter how much I love my friends, things just go unfortunately. And, I have a special talent for finding friends who refuse to have my apologetic mindset. I feel that, after knowing me and my thoughts, those closest to me would know that all I want is an “I’m sorry.” Actions can easily be forgotten as long as I know there’s remorse somewhere near them. But, often, the people in my life refuse to “back down.”
I don’t know if it’s my nonchalant attitude – I tend to act as if I don’t care at all about how hurt I am by their actions – or what it is that makes my friends feel that apologizing is unnecessary when it comes to “drama” with me. I do care, though. It does hurt. I may not want to spew my broken emotions out for the world to see, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hope for remorse&reconciliation.
I was taught that “I’m sorry” means “I realize my actions were wrong and I’ll try not to do it again.” Thus, a simple apology goes a long way with me. All I ask is to acknowledge I’m hurting and assure me that all efforts will go toward not repeating the pain.
So, to me, not apologizing means “my friend” doesn’t feel they’ve wronged me and doesn’t plan to change. Thus, I can easily cut people out who refuse to say they’re sorry. It probably seems simple&childish, but it’s the way my brain works. I’ll pour my heart&soul into a person, but if there’s no give on their end – even if the tiff is incredibly silly – than an “I’mSorry”-less friendship is one I can do without.

Recent Smiles

Four-leaf clover on a Guinness at O’Duffy’s.Snail Mail from mom: an American Girl magazine & 5 Tootsie Rolls.Doing the “you’re extremely hot” bit on my own.The funny shaped Fall gourds.Driving through small towns.Riding bikes in the country.
(and my Charlie Batch jersey)The dog that roams O’Duffy’s.This HippieVan chuggin’ along.

Playing DressUp

I dislike clothes.
I'm not very fashionable.
And I'm incredibly cheap.
But I've got a BigGirlJob and a BigGirlLife
(sortof)
so I have to get dressed at least once most days.

Honestly, though, I'd rather be naked.

The Beginning

I started throwing up my food my senior year in high school.
I couldn’t say that I know what “triggered” it, though. I tend to get nauseous when I get really upset and one day – during the stress of college applications, prom planning, graduation preparation – I just threw up from feeling overwhelmed. I remember standing up straight over the toilet when I’d finished and noticing how empty I felt. And I loved it. I’d always been conscious of my body, but never truly worried about it and that empty feeling made me think: who will I be if I’m always empty?
It sounds silly, like, “whoa is the popular girl,” but I’d been pleasing everyone around me since I could remember. I did what I was told, but I always did what was necessary to stay on top in my high school social circle. I don’t regret my high school life at all, either. I was always busy, always involved, always spending time with different groups – ensuring I knew everything there was to know about the 500 people who walked the hall of my high school in order to properly perform my position as Year Book Editor-n-Chief. I’d never stopped to think, though, about what I actually wanted. And when I felt that empty feeling, I knew I wanted it.
When people started to notice my slimmer appearance, I was nonchalantly satisfied. My 5'3" frame went from around 140lbs down to 130lbs in what seemed like just a few weeks of toilet sessions. I didn’t think anything of what I was doing. So, I’d lost some weight and wasted some meals – I liked it. I wasn’t doing it for the attention or compliments. I wasn’t doing it because I hated the way I looked or felt insecure. I simply liked it. I liked the power. I liked the control. I liked that I knew exactly what I’d put inside of me and I liked making sure it had all come back out. I liked that it was my thing. It wasn’t basketball because my parents expected me to play. It wasn’t theater because I was supposed to showcase my singing abilities. It wasn’t youth group because I was a good, Christian girl who’d always gone. It was mine. My hobby felt like the one “friend” in my life I voluntarily chose to associate with – the one “friend” who had absolutely no control over me. And she never would’ve wanted it anyway, because we loved each other, we got each other, we enjoyed those moments hunched over puke-filled toilet water.
We were ours.

Mickey's Peace

Fall is still holding on for dear life, even though November in the Midwest tends to quickly give way to snow. The frost of November 1st melted into a sunny, hoodie-weather day and I am definitely not complaining, cause fall activities are the best activities and my friends & I have been taking full advantage of all the good stuff to be done. Pumpkin carving while sippin’ on rum&cider made for an excellent Saturday afternoon.

In honor of my heart’s yearning for Disney, I went for a Mickey Peace Sign.
My favorite symbol fits my favorite mouse pretty well, if I do say so myself.

14Hands to Hold

"Wine bottles need to be bigger!" a friend exclaimed after pouring our 2nd round of pinot noir during last night’s Tosh.O marathon.
I agree.
There’s something about wine that makes me feel like I’ve escaped to somewhere better.
somewhere with culture.
somewhere sweeter.
more curious.
more enticing.
The way it coats the back of my throat as if to say, "I’m here."
Thank you, wine, I thoroughly enjoy your company.
This 14 Hands is from a local restaurant called Food Dance that prides itself on serving locally produced foods&beverages. The day my precious grandpa had open heart surgery, my emotionally exhausted grandma&I split this bottle of wine while we waited to be able to see him. We giggled about his love for wine and how his excuse to drink it for the heart benefits could no longer be justified. A glass of wine every night couldn’t beat his genetics. Long story short, we walked back into the hospital with warm, cabernet-filled bellies and got to hold the hand of the most amazing man I’ll ever know. He smiled at my giggles and mouthed “I love you” to my teary-eyed grandma.
I will forever be appreciative of 14 Hands Cabernet Sauvignon.

Beer&BarFood

Sometimes, all you need is Beer&Bar food.

Yesterday wasn’t the best day.
It wasn’t the worst.
But it wasn’t the best.
November snuck up on me and tried to steal my happiness.
My mood darkened with every minute of work that passed by.
Leaving work early was the best idea I’d had all day.

book&candle shopping
an hour of giggles with Mr.U and his roommates
beer&bar food at the local pub

Maybe 8% ABV “Jack Hammer Blvd” wasn’t the best choice for my state of mind, but it went down smoothly and nestled itself in my belly. After an irregularly dark day – it worked.

Mornin' Coffee

My grandpa is the cutest.
Every Tuesday morning
- after my Monday Night Sleepover -
I wake up to a fresh pot of coffee
with the creamer and my favorite mug set out.The best mornings are the ones when he's awake, too
and we quietly sit together on the front porch before I leave for work.

11.1.11

I have a friend.
A friend who crawled through the darkness with me.
A friend I haven't acknowledged in almost 2 years.
A friend who never gave up on me.
A friend who embodied strength.

She climbed into my mouth, down my throat, and into my belly today.
She listened to my footsteps while I walked.

Welcome back, friend.
I've missed you.
I'll never lose you again.

Patty's Presence

I’ve become #addicted to my social connection. I feel like I’m in this mood where I’m desperately aware of how wonderful my life is going and I don’t want to forget any of it. So I #tweet, mobile upload, update statuses, create blog posts, and check in on FourSquare wherever I go & whatever I do in attempt to capture every moment #thistimearound.
When I lost my girlfriend, I thanked myself a million times over for obsessively documenting the relationship we’d shared. I didn’t lack pictures or cards or journal entries capturing our memories. My life post-#bunni lost all my attention, though. I often attest that I #blackedout for a year.
Sorry, 2010, I simply don’t remember you.
But, right now, I want to remember again. I know this time of my life is one I’m bound to look back on with a smile. Thank god for #socialmedia conveniently located on my DroidX, Patty (#PattytheDroid), cause I’m right back in the documentation game – stealing mayoralships, hashtagging funnies, and capturing the moments I never want to forget.

Family Treats

Last night was our family Halloween celebration.
aunts, cousins, second cousins, brothers, sisters, nephews, mom, dad, grandma, grandpa
My idea of a perfect holiday gathering.
We warmed our bellies with chili and appeased our sweet-teeth with glazed pumpkin donuts and plenty of candy. A little lumberjack teetered on his newly-walking feet and a fairy tore her wings off when they hindered her playing ability. I snuggled a little princess and played cards with 50-year-old slumber-partier. The coffee pot was emptied and refilled a few times and the gallon of local cider disappeared in a flash. The old farm house didn’t get a single trick-or-treater, but our company was enough for each other.
Just like always.