can't stop, won't stop: june (featuring the music of summer 2009)

In honor of summer (SUMMER!!), I decided to break from my normal format and instead do a flashback can’t stop/won’t stop featuring my favorite playlists of summers past. I’m also just feeling nostalgic (summer always has that affect on me) and wanted to indulge myself in a walk down memory lane.


First up, I present to you my Summer of 2009 Playlist:

• Love Game by Lady Gaga
• 3OH!3’s entire album, Want (but specifically Don’t Trust Me, I’m Not Your Boyfriend, Baby, and Richman*)
• Fireflies by Owl City (and, in fact, all of Owl City's Ocean Eyes album...IT'S FINE)
• Digital by T-Pain (“I don’t even care that he lives in a voicebox!”- Mitch Baker)
• Waking Up in Vegas by Katy Perry
• Hotel Room Service by Pitbull
• Birthday Sex by Jeremih (in honor of Mitch’s 21st, ie. a mostly-hilarious night for everyone involved, but less so for me as I was busy cleaning up vomit and assuring Mitch that he “didn’t do a bad job on his birthday” while he kept screaming, WHO DID THIS TO ME?!) (and later, very sadly, “…I did this to me…”)
• Sweet Pea by Amos Lee
• I Gotta Feeling by The Black Eyed Peas (ughhhh I HATE this song now)
• Fire Burning by Sean Kingston (this is shameful, but true)
• Punk Goes Pop volume 2 (specifically Breathe Carolina’s cover of See You Again and The Cab’s cover of Disturbia)
  

Post-one million shots, pre-vomit.

Summer 2009 was a big one for me. It was my last summer as a college student, the summer I got Clark Kent, the summer I ran and didn’t hate it, the summer I drove down to Nacogdoches every other weekend, the summer I drove all the way to Arkansas just to see finally Relient K live, the summer of Daisy Dukes and dollar drinks and drunk make outs BECAUSE it was my last summer as a college student. It was the first summer Mitch and I spent together, the first time we drove to Houston for Free Press Summer Fest, the first time I really like-liked someone after thinking I’d never like-like anyone ever again.

PUPPY! :)

It’s the summer I came back to life.

I’ve mentioned before that I had a particularly difficult time after a break up, way back in the spring of 2009. Truth be told, it’s probably the lowest I’ve ever been in my entire life, and God, I hope the lowest I’ll ever feel. I definitely don’t want to go back to that place. Anyone who suffers from depression can attest to how hopeless you feel, like you will literally never be able to crawl out of bed, like you’ll never be happy again. I had stopped going to work. I dropped two classes and failed one. I no longer answered my phone. I regularly slept fifteen hours at a time. I spent every second possible in the solace of my room, feeling lost and inconsolable.

When I did go out, I tried to prove to myself and everyone else that I was fine by laughing too loud, drinking too much and generally pretending I didn’t give a shit about anything, least of all my broken heart.

I was, in a word, a mess.

But with summer came sunshine and a new beginning.

July 4th, 2009. Go Rangers!

It brought my friend Mitch who emailed me daily with work-out regimes and words of encouragement. It brought Clark, the world’s sweetest puppy, who gave me something to look after and someone to come home to. Summer brought a new will to live and the realization that this sorrow wouldn’t be forever. Summer brought a time of tentative happiness as I slowly but surely crawled out of my cave and faced the real world again, this time stronger and more self-assured than before. It wasn’t instant, but it was lasting.

I was back, baby.

Thank you, summer 2009. Thank you to the friends and wonderful times that made it what it was. It’s a time I always treasure, and I’m so grateful I lived to see that.

Impromptu library workers party. We like books!

Join me next month for can’t stop, won’t stop: july where I’ll feature my summer 2010 playlist. Whoop! :)



*Richman is one of my favorite songs of all time. IT GOES SO HARD. Listen to it now, please & thanks.

the ghost of spring breaks past(alternative title: why i'll never be hired by anyone, ever)

Today I made a special trip over to my storage room (where all my belongings sadly remain since I’m totally super cool and live in my parents’ guestroom) to dig through a million boxes of crap, looking for koozies.

Yup, koozies.

And do you want to know why? Because it’s almost spring break, mfers!

Now, okay, maybe I’m a little too old for spring break, seeing as how I spent last year’s staring at this (while Mitch was off skiing in Breckenridge…yea, poured some salt into THAT wound, didn’t you, lover?):

NO.

That’s right. This time last year I was working in a soul-sucking job as an accounts receivable coordinator, something I’ve mentioned probably too many times, but whatever. Anyway, it was tough working for the man while all my college friends were off having the time of their lives since it wasn’t that long ago that I, too, was having the time of my life, PCB-style.

In March of 2008 and 2009, I road tripped down to Florida with fifteen friends and spent the week renting a house in Panama City Beach. A house with two tiny bathrooms. Shared by a bazillion people. It was, in a word, classic. You know all those spring break trips you see depicted in college movies? Yeaaaa.

When we went my junior year, in 2008, I had just turned 21 in the weeks prior so, needless to say, I was pretty excited to just be able to drink legally. Add on a trip to the beach with my friends and I was absolutely in heaven.

SBPCB08 jams: Sexy Can I by Ray J
I Run This by Birdman feat. Lil’ Wayne







It was a little on the wild side, I’ll admit, but truth be told, I don’t think it can even compare to the ridiculousness of SBPCB09.

Seriously.

There was booze, theft, regretful yet hilarious ice outs, dancing, and a variety of competitions, rewards and penalties. There were underground beer bongs, on-a-canoe beer bongs, duct-taped-and-hog-tied beer bongs, Lindsey’s-underwear beer bongs, running beer bongs, peeing-in-the-ocean beer bongs, and god, so many more. I spent most of my time drunk dialing my fellow Fish Camp counselors (note: more on Fish Camp at a later date) and leaving them messages like, CLINT, IF YOU DON’T ANSWER THIS PHONE RIGHT NOW, I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL CHOKE YOU, etc.

SBPCB09 jams: Kiss Me Thru the Phone by Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em
I'm on a Boat by The Lonely Island

pictured: bliss

pictured: utilizing a rape whistle while in a crowded outdoor bar

pictured: BFFL high-pour

pictured: dudes' top-ass picture. an absolute must.

pictured: dudettes' top-ass picture. not embarrassing.

To put it this way, last year I jokingly applied to be a castmate on Jersey Shore season 3 (duh, why wouldn’t everyone?) and when asked to describe my perfect summer weekend, I described instead a single day at Panama City Beach in 2009. Oh, and submitted a picture of myself doing a beer bong while wearing a bikini. And definitely got a call-back ("Girrrrrrl, can’t wait for your audition tape! LOVE your booty!"). So, crazy enough to interest the producers over at the Jerz? HEY-OH!

Maybe I shouldn’t post things like this since I’m in the process of trying to become gainfully employed?

Whatev.

Slash Mama, Dad, extended family…I apologize if you read all of this. I really am the nice, semi-normal girl you thought you knew.

I will say, however, that I have grown up a lot since 2008 and 2009. I don’t ice out with strangers or binge drink (on week nights, at least). And this year I have the exciting privilege of spending a weekend out at Harrison’s lakehouse with some very fun, adult-type friends, instead of spending the entirety of Spring Break 2011 working like a sucker. But the number one item at the top of my packing list (yes, I make packing lists, shut up)?

Koozies.

twenty-ten, over & out

Two thousand and ten, you were quite the challenge when it came to life post-grad. I turned 23, fell in love, tried my hand at accounting (wtf?), dealt with unemployment, terrible employment, and unemployment once again, spent a lot of money enjoying a summer I didn't expect to have, thankfully attended more weddings than funerals, got a tattoo, watched too much Jersey Shore while drinking too much wine, made new friendships while rekindling the old, became the proud mother of two (count 'em, TWO) dogs and kissed my sanity goodbye.

Thanks for the ups, let's forget the downs, and here's to a fantastic year ahead of us all!

BRING IT ON, 2011.

it was all for you

I love Pandora.

I probably even love it more than my iPod, which is saying something because Gad has a pretty important place in my life (and yes, I named my iPod). When I hit the Pandora app on my phone this morning, it was immediately apparent that Mitch was the last one to use it since I found myself listening to Gucci Mane radio (really?). Me, I’m more into Jason Mraz radio (the absolute best station for any mood).

Anyway, this morning I was, of course, listening to Jason Mraz radio as I drove to today’s shoot, jamming to the likes of Ingrid Michelson, Matt White and, of course, Jason Mraz, when an old favorite came on. As soon as I heard the opening chords of Sister Hazel’s All For You, I felt myself slipping back to wintertime two years ago.

The boy I dated before Mitch was a guitar player. Well, is a guitar player because I really have no reason to assume he’s not still playing. Our relationship was (at best) tumultuous and (at worst) absolutely devastating, so when it ended I tried to push every single memory of him out of my mind. Even the good ones. Or perhaps especially the good ones. But this morning, listening to Sister Hazel, I remembered a good one and found myself less inclined to cringe than usual.

Leo said he had a surprise for me and, no, he couldn’t tell me where we were going. We drove through and all around our small college town until we arrived at a park, a park I had never really taken the time to visit. At first I was less than impressed; it was chilly and I wasn’t really in the mood to traipse around some stupid park grounds. But as we parked and made our way out of the truck, he grabbed a picnic basket and his guitar from the back where he had hidden them both.

C’mon, he said, and so I followed.

We waded through weeds and brush and thorns until we stopped in a small clearing, secluded enough by the tall trees to feel like this was ours and we were alone. I stood behind Leo as he spread a blanket on the cold ground and started to lay out the food he’d brought for us (peanut butter & jelly sandwiches and chocolate chip cookies). We sat and we ate, but then he started to play. And then he sang, words can’t say / and I can’t do / enough to prove / it’s all for you. It was like magic and I was transfixed.

I mentioned that there was a lot of hurt, a lot of dishonesty, and just plain a lot of bad in our relationship. I’d get so angry, so completely fed up and want to walk away, but then Leo would manage to do something like this, something unexpected and special, something that made me feel special.

And for whatever reason (love?), those moments were enough to convince me that everything would be okay.

Now, obviously, things didn’t end up being okay, and it’s taken time (lots of time) to be in a place where I can write about this without bitterness. A year ago, maybe even six months ago, I don’t know that I could have heard All For You and not have been momentarily thrown into a downward spiral. Hearing it this morning and being able to immediately remember the good instead of immediately remembering the bad…well, it’s nice.

It’s nice to be able to dust off old memories.

It’s even nicer not to cry in the process.