Calming a Lion’s Mane

As the rain stops failing, time starts to tick away. The now silky mane begins to shift. Its silky texture begins to fade, fade and change into the unwanted. There are seconds between the silk and straw. There are minutes between the silk and the straw. Tick tick tick. The air molecules start enveloping every strained of hair. Curling and winding through the tangled, unnegotiable strands. The sound of frizz silently creeps into play.

The Ticking grows faster.

The fluff protectant is attached to the now soft stands. Water drops descend from the strands to the floor and meshes into the fluff. As the fluff, soaks up the water, the strands start to change. The protectant will only hold for seconds, minutes if lucky. Tick Tick Tick. Now for the foam. Out of the spaceship like can, foam appears. But never enough. The foam only covers a third of the mane. What about the rest? Tick Tick Tick. Bending knees search for another spaceship. Nothing. Tip toes search for another spaceship. Nothing.

The ticking grows louder and louder.

Sound of frizz grows louder and louder.

Panic sets in. How will the Lion be without a tamed mane? What will the day be like? How will the emotions of the Lion be? What will the horse say? The llama? The peacock? Anxiety sets in. The ticking grows faster, and yet, faster. The ticking isn’t ticking at all, but a heartbeat. The beating in the head. The beating in the body. Heat sets in. Sweat appears. Sharp breath. Braid the mane, hide the frizz.

Tick Tick Tick.

Braid the man, hide the frizz.

30 seconds till maximum frizz. 35 seconds till completed braid. Fingers twine. Neck craned. Braid completed. Mane saved. Ticking calms.


a year.

It’s been a year.

A year without your feet on this earth.

A year without your voice, your smile, you.

A year wondering what if

What if I had texted you instead of him

What if I had stayed

What if I told you I loved you

What if. What if. What if…

I cry more now than I ever have.

I cry because my heart was ripped out of my body.

I cry because my magnet is gone.

My other pole. My common thread. My support beam.

You were my safe place. My home. My heart. What I believed to be my future.

I’m so sorry.

I’m sorry I failed you.

But I won’t let you disappear. I won’t let your memory fade. I won’t let them forget you. The good in you. The bad. I won’t let them forget you.

Too often in this world we feel alone. In a world with endless connection we are alone. I won’t let you feel alone. I promise on this day to remind others, to be there, and make sure they are not alone.

No one should ever feel like they aren’t enough. That their feet don’t matter on this earth. That they can disappear without a trace.

It’s been a year. Of crying, hating, screaming, cursing, and not understanding.

A year of grief. But this year, is a year of never letting it happen again.

facing reality.

21 hours.

Plus three hours of lab

Plus going to schools to start student teaching.

Equals not enough time in the day.

Or, not sleeping

Or, just slowly crumbling from the idea of not being able to meet deadlines and expectations.


So, now I’m just going to do 18 hours.

I’m a lot happier.

a letter to you


I really needed you the most this past year. I needed you to be there and be around and be my shoulder when I couldn’t do it alone. I needed you. I have needed you for a year and half now and you have been nowhere to be found.

I told you to be a friend. I told you to pay attention to the world outside your relationship. I told you I would be here waiting. But it hurts. It hurts when people ask about you and I can’t answer. It hurts when you come to Austin and leave without a whisper. It hurts because I lost my best friend.

I get it if he is now your best friends. But you are still mine. You are the person I tell my secrets too. The one I explode on with information. The one who holds my deepest fears and worst failures. The one who knows what I have been through.

You have missed so much, and so have I. When did we become the people, who don’t speak? When did we become the people, who ask others for information? When did we get here? How did we get here?

I don’t want to be here, but I can’t fix this by myself. I won’t pour my heart into this if there is no one there who cares? I won’t devote my time to something that I know will fail. I can’t. Not anymore.

I’ve waited. I’ve tried. You’ve been silent.


From, me

just a little soap box

I’m catholic.

Now, that comes with a lot of baggage. I’m sure you’re thinking of quite a few right now, but stop. I’m just here to say this…

No where in any Christian religion does it say you have to be perfect. No where does it say screwing up is not allowed. I was told once that in order to follow Jesus, you had to be sinner. Let’s just say I got a lot of comfort from this.


This isn’t mine, but I wanted to share it.

What Jesus Didn’t Ask –A Letter To The Girls Next To Me At The Gym

you’re gone…

I don’t know if you have noticed, but I don’t really do emotions. I do sarcasm covered in more sarcasm, and if you look really really closely you may see a hit of feelings. But sometimes I crack. I am not titanium. I’m a rock and rocks go through erosion.

Let me explain.

I got home form Ireland and zoomed to Austin for sorority shenanigans. One afternoon, I got a text form my old best friend saying, “Something happened last night and I think you need to hear it from me. Call me as soon as you can.”

After talking to her, I was calm, I was thinking of others, like I do. Thinking about what I could do, who I could help, who needed my comfort. But after the fact, I felt the hole in my heart. The gap creating more and more space in my chest. He was gone, someone I had 20140309_134410once used as my rock, my protection, my best friend was gone.

*Sidebar*     I don’t emote in public, for some reason I have always disliked it and felt I can’t do it. It makes me feel uncomfortable and weak, yet no one has every told me that. I don’t even feel comfortable crying in my bed and letting my roommates hear me. I tell people I am always there for them, I am a shoulder to cry on, yet I never let anyone take care of me.   *Sidebar Over*

The worst part was having to be okay, because I was on the third floor of a house with 197 women in it. Women who didn’t know, and didn’t need to. I had to be okay. I had to be
focused and working, not breaking, crumbling, and wanting to run home as fast as I could. I got through a day, and tore myself away from people the second I could. As soon as everyone started falling asleep, I went outside and laid on the grass, the sobs rang in and  day broke too soon. Time to be okay again.

My face and heart were saying two different things. I starting acting when I was 7, so by 20 I had mastered my 10,000 hours scientifically calling me a master. Throughout the day, news broke out back home about what happened, and my shell started cracking ever so slightly, but few noticed. People didn’t connect the dots between him and me, because we had kept our distance in recent years, a mistake I realize now. Our lives where in two different worlds, I didn’t know his secrets anymore, but I hold on to the fact I knew his heart. Hearts don’t change, and his was one of my favorites.



It’s been close to three months since he passed away. Three months. The wound is still there, the hole and the hurt come around every so often, but so does reminders of his life.  Reminders of who he was in songs, in stories, in random faces on the streets. I don’t believe he is gone, he is just here in a new way. Losing him was terrible, but knowing he is no longer in pain makes it better.


so biking…

So, I started riding a bike around campus and it is an adventure. Here are the rules I have learned.

First you have to remember where you locked it up, if you don’t you spend two hours panicking thinking it was stole. This I have done way to many times. WAY to many.

Second, look out for people and cars. The streets aren’t that bad because cars look out for you. But people are the worst. On campus there will be individuals that will walk out in front of cars and bikes and expect them to stop. It is crazy; they think they are Moses and they can part the traffic for themselves. If this happens to you, you’ll probably fall off your bike and the person who made you crash will laugh at you. It is so great.

That point brings me to three, falling will happen, it will hurt. I currently have a permanent bruise on my right leg and a scar on the other. If you fall, just get back up and keep going like nothing happened. I get knocked down, but I get up again, you are never gonna keep me down.

Lastly, remember to have fun. Take new paths, try to work on some tricks. The other day I re-mastered biking without hands. Biking is fun, so don’t forget it. It is a great way to exercise without work to hard.

Biking is great, go do it.

Ireland Ruined Me.

Now, before you think this is going to be rude, it isn’t. Take a deep breathe. Now you may read on.

Ireland Ruined Me. I am finished. Done. I peaked. It is time to give up. I will never, ever, get over the fact I lived in Dublin, or worked at the GEC.

20160610_170001I check the website and twitter way more than I should. I look at photos of Ireland all the time. I still email Lisa, Vicky, and Linda (hi friends). I have tried to find cheap flights back, but there is no such thing as a cheap international flight. People have started to tell me to stop talking about the GEC, but I can’t. (and I don’t want to)

The other week, the GEC posted about the Christmas party. I then asked my parents for an early Christmas present… I asked if I could go to the party. My dad laughed in my face. Not a chuckle, but an evil Santa Clause laugh. Like he was jolly about not letting me go.

I peaked. I will never find a place like the GEC or live an adventure as challenging or wonderful as living in Ireland alone. I just signed for my apartment next year and I wish I signed for a place in Dublin.20160602_171239



I peaked.

I’ll just start my walk back to Ireland now. The ocean isn’t too wide, right?

Texas Football

snapchat-3239327023765481626This is the time for cheering, fights, and most of all WAY to much burnt orange.

Football season pushes the Fall semester along. It keep it going because you know at the end of the week the entire school will come together to fight whatever team wants a challenge.

Now, UT isn’t the best at football. But we love it. We support it. No matter what time, we are there. We aren’t there for the game necessarily, we are there to build up the egos of our football team. We are there for the beer. We are there for the free food. We are there because it is the southern thing to do.

This is one of the only times the entire school comes together. It is a time when you see people you don’t want to see. It is a time you sometimes don’t remember… But, it is great.

Please know this is AMERICAN football. This is not soccer, no one really likes soccer. But here, everyone loves football.



My heart hurts. Not because of who won or who lost. It hurts because of the cruelty all around me. It hurts because people are attacking each other, yelling at each other, and calling off friendships. It hurts because people are losing their humanity.

As the votes streamed in, words began to fly across rooms. Targets were placed on individuals with different views. Dagger eyes stabbed each other. Hearts were forgotten, and it it’s place, pain and anger. Tonight I witness bullying because people exercised their right to vote. I witnessed tears for the lost of their candidate.  I witnessed hate.

The past year has not been “fun,” it has been hard, but it is over. If you voted, you did you part. If you didn’t that is fine too. If you feel abandoned, don’t spit hate at others, talk about. If you want change, make it. America is build on the back of individuals who wanted change and sought it. So go seek. Don’t lie in your bed, or couch and wish for change because faeries and genies don’t exist.

Trump will be President, Hilary will not. This is a fact. You can like it. You can hate it. It doesn’t change.

Tomorrow you are still you. You have to deal with the mess you make. You have to support America, because this is your home. You have to remember to breathe. If you need to cry, do it, but don’t make others cry.

Tomorrow will be hard, but it will be okay.