My parents always catered to my younger brother. I was the oldest, so I was the one that was deprived of all things wonderful. Oh whoa is me....When it came to pets, my brother was pretty much allowed any pet he could think of, that is how we ended up with several iguanas, several snakes, newts, fish, and even a taranchula...
The first iguana David got was a Christmas present. Since I stopped believing in Santa Clause at the tender age of FIVE I was allowed in on the secret that he was in fact getting this iguana from 'Santa'. At this point in my life I wasn't exactly aware of the fact that he was catered too... so, whatever, he was getting an iguana. He gets this iguana for christmas and couldn't have been more excited. Along with the iguana he received a special iguana walking harness (I think it was actually for a guinea pig)... A few days after Christmas, David and I decided to take Iggy for a walk outside. Well, the walk did not end well. In fact the walk didn't even end with Iggy. He ran away. For years David and I would talk about how Iggy was running around basking in the Florida sunlight.. oh, we were dreamers.
When I was about 16 a full 9 years or so after we had Iggy I was at my aunts house and we were talking about past pets. I am not sure if it was my aunt or a cousin that said how horrible it must have been when my neighbor found our iguana. WHAT? I had no idea what she was talking about. How could our neighbor have found Iggy, um, he had run away and was up in a sun shine filled tree eating hibiscus! No. Apparently that spring my neighbor made a startling discovery. Poor Iggy did not survive the winter and in his bushes he found an iguana popsicle. I could not believe my ears! Seriously? How could no one tell me? So, there I was 16 years old bawling like an idiot, because my poor iguana that I really wasn't even all that found of had died a wintery death and was not on an island somewhere making baby iguanas.
We had two more iguanas after that. Igor unfortunately also died a young death, of natural causes. Elvis stayed around for quite sometime and even lived in my room with me. One day my mom decided that we had had enough of him, so she gave him to her nail lady.
~smb
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
the one about the two years.
written on saturday august 11th, 2007:
let me warn you.
this is going to be scary, or at least it could be.
i am currently holding two of my old journals in my hand. I am going to write exactly what it says for August 11, that or the closest date to that...
written on wednesday august 14th, 2007:
let me assure you that i decided NOT to do that.
good grief was i a basket case.. maybe i still am.
the two journals that i randomly picked were from my first and second years of college.... those two years could go down as the weirdest two years of my life. don't get me wrong, i had alot of fun, but my oh my was i confused.
i wrote so much that to just write what one day said would make no sense, because every post related to the one before. i remember actually freaking out a little bit when i would realize that i forgot my journal at home, that i didn't take it with me to class. if i would have spent as much time studying as i did writing i probably would have finished school early.
this is not really a story.
i describe myself as a basket case, but if i were a member of the breakfast club, i would have been the prom queen... i would like to think i have a talent other than putting lipstick on with my boobs... but, i was definitely as dramatic and confused as she was. i was expected to be a certain way, and i was trying hard not to be that way i think, trying hard to prove that i was different... but, i really wasn't any different than i ever was.
some of my friends thought i was rebelling, but i never did anything arrest worthy... i think i was just trying to burst out of the bubble that i lived in during high school.
if i could, would i go back and change those years? no. i think if they were different then maybe i would still be confused. i have often heard that after you graduate high school the first few years that you are in college you go from being a mature semi adult back to acting like you are in middle school. i completely agree. i will probably argue with you if you say i am wrong, because i am not.
those two years i was constantly looking for acceptance, love, and happiness... i think i found all of those things at time along with rejection, hate, and depression.
could i be more dramatic?
i promise a new REAL story very soon.
~smb
let me warn you.
this is going to be scary, or at least it could be.
i am currently holding two of my old journals in my hand. I am going to write exactly what it says for August 11, that or the closest date to that...
written on wednesday august 14th, 2007:
let me assure you that i decided NOT to do that.
good grief was i a basket case.. maybe i still am.
the two journals that i randomly picked were from my first and second years of college.... those two years could go down as the weirdest two years of my life. don't get me wrong, i had alot of fun, but my oh my was i confused.
i wrote so much that to just write what one day said would make no sense, because every post related to the one before. i remember actually freaking out a little bit when i would realize that i forgot my journal at home, that i didn't take it with me to class. if i would have spent as much time studying as i did writing i probably would have finished school early.
this is not really a story.
i describe myself as a basket case, but if i were a member of the breakfast club, i would have been the prom queen... i would like to think i have a talent other than putting lipstick on with my boobs... but, i was definitely as dramatic and confused as she was. i was expected to be a certain way, and i was trying hard not to be that way i think, trying hard to prove that i was different... but, i really wasn't any different than i ever was.
some of my friends thought i was rebelling, but i never did anything arrest worthy... i think i was just trying to burst out of the bubble that i lived in during high school.
if i could, would i go back and change those years? no. i think if they were different then maybe i would still be confused. i have often heard that after you graduate high school the first few years that you are in college you go from being a mature semi adult back to acting like you are in middle school. i completely agree. i will probably argue with you if you say i am wrong, because i am not.
those two years i was constantly looking for acceptance, love, and happiness... i think i found all of those things at time along with rejection, hate, and depression.
could i be more dramatic?
i promise a new REAL story very soon.
~smb
Friday, July 27, 2007
the one with the proposal.
recently I was talking to a close friend of mine and I mentioned that I was proposed to in Ferran park.... she didn't know that... that is why I am telling this story.
A few days after my 24th birthday and a few days before Jason's 24th birthday I went to my parents house. My dad pulled me aside that day and told me that he really wanted to talk to me. He wanted to know what I thought Jason's intentions were... whether or not he wanted to get married. (You see.. we had been dating about 3 years, after 2 years he broke up with me for two months... then we got back together and he talked to my parents about that and assured them that he was sincere and such...anyway... I don't know, maybe because of that my dad thought he would make a move. We were both living on our own, working full time jobs... and seemed like we should do it.) I was very surprised that my dad would ask me about this... he basically told me that if Jason didn't propose soon, then I should move on. My mom was a little more blunt. 'If he doesn't propose before his birthday then I will threaten him with a shotgun.
I really was surprised at both of them. I definitely wanted to get married, but I wasn't into making threats. I also enjoyed living with Holly and I was ok. Of course after their talk I started to get nervous.. like.. is he going to ever ask me?
On June 24th, 2004 Jason called me... I was still at work, but was planning on going to the gym about an hour after I got off work (thats right, the gym. holly and I joined a gym for about a month or two. I never went back to the gym after 6/24/04) so, I had some time to kill. Jason was at the park reading. Please note: this was one of the most miserably hot days of that summer.. and I believed him that he was in the park reading... was I insane?
I get to the park and I saw that he was reading the catcher in the rye.. one of my favorite books. This was not the first time that he had read it. He asked me if I remember writing him notes in it.. (you see, I sometimes write notes on random pages of books so that when you read it, it would be a nice surprise) I didn't remember, but i flipped open the book and there it was.
Inside the book was a carved out heart. Inside the heart was a ring. I looked at him and he was down on both knees and asked me there.
I said yes.
Where did I go first? my office.
then we went to my parents house where my mom had about 15 bridal magazines waiting for me. 100 days later, we were married.
Random Facts:
Ferran park was where we decided that we liked each other.
The bench that I was sitting on was the same bench that I sat on almost every day that we were broken up....that is where I wrote in my journal
Dawn was in europe at the time and on the same day jason proposed to me, adam proposed to her.
The date of our wedding was in the proposal.
I was wearing a mae is for lovers shirt.
I don't know what happened to that shirt!
thats it.
~smb
A few days after my 24th birthday and a few days before Jason's 24th birthday I went to my parents house. My dad pulled me aside that day and told me that he really wanted to talk to me. He wanted to know what I thought Jason's intentions were... whether or not he wanted to get married. (You see.. we had been dating about 3 years, after 2 years he broke up with me for two months... then we got back together and he talked to my parents about that and assured them that he was sincere and such...anyway... I don't know, maybe because of that my dad thought he would make a move. We were both living on our own, working full time jobs... and seemed like we should do it.) I was very surprised that my dad would ask me about this... he basically told me that if Jason didn't propose soon, then I should move on. My mom was a little more blunt. 'If he doesn't propose before his birthday then I will threaten him with a shotgun.
I really was surprised at both of them. I definitely wanted to get married, but I wasn't into making threats. I also enjoyed living with Holly and I was ok. Of course after their talk I started to get nervous.. like.. is he going to ever ask me?
On June 24th, 2004 Jason called me... I was still at work, but was planning on going to the gym about an hour after I got off work (thats right, the gym. holly and I joined a gym for about a month or two. I never went back to the gym after 6/24/04) so, I had some time to kill. Jason was at the park reading. Please note: this was one of the most miserably hot days of that summer.. and I believed him that he was in the park reading... was I insane?
I get to the park and I saw that he was reading the catcher in the rye.. one of my favorite books. This was not the first time that he had read it. He asked me if I remember writing him notes in it.. (you see, I sometimes write notes on random pages of books so that when you read it, it would be a nice surprise) I didn't remember, but i flipped open the book and there it was.
Inside the book was a carved out heart. Inside the heart was a ring. I looked at him and he was down on both knees and asked me there.
I said yes.
Where did I go first? my office.
then we went to my parents house where my mom had about 15 bridal magazines waiting for me. 100 days later, we were married.
Random Facts:
Ferran park was where we decided that we liked each other.
The bench that I was sitting on was the same bench that I sat on almost every day that we were broken up....that is where I wrote in my journal
Dawn was in europe at the time and on the same day jason proposed to me, adam proposed to her.
The date of our wedding was in the proposal.
I was wearing a mae is for lovers shirt.
I don't know what happened to that shirt!
thats it.
~smb
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
the one with the funny card.
I will make fun of people for alot of things, but I will never make fun of someones laugh, because they can't help it. They can't help it and I think I have a pretty hideous laugh, so I don't want someone making fun of me. When I laugh, my whole body tends to laugh or spasm or something of that nature.
Early in my relationship with Jason he gave me a card. Inside the card I found a picture of him with a word bubble (i don't even remember what it said!) and I thought it was extremely funny. I was sitting on his bed when I read it and it was so funny that I threw my head back in laughter. A window sill was there to catch my head. More specifically the corner of a window sill was there to catch my head.
You know how when you hurt your head, you instantly hold onto it with your hand... I did that and when I let go, I looked at my hand and found that it was covered with blood. I have been told that head injuries are the worst as far as bleeding goes. We both freaked out a little, then we got his mom. She had me put my head down on the kitchen table and she got a towel and applied pressure for a long time and cleaned it up. That was probably my first real encounter with his mom. My head was ok, but if you part my hair in the middle you can still see the scar.
watch out for window sills.
~smb
Early in my relationship with Jason he gave me a card. Inside the card I found a picture of him with a word bubble (i don't even remember what it said!) and I thought it was extremely funny. I was sitting on his bed when I read it and it was so funny that I threw my head back in laughter. A window sill was there to catch my head. More specifically the corner of a window sill was there to catch my head.
You know how when you hurt your head, you instantly hold onto it with your hand... I did that and when I let go, I looked at my hand and found that it was covered with blood. I have been told that head injuries are the worst as far as bleeding goes. We both freaked out a little, then we got his mom. She had me put my head down on the kitchen table and she got a towel and applied pressure for a long time and cleaned it up. That was probably my first real encounter with his mom. My head was ok, but if you part my hair in the middle you can still see the scar.
watch out for window sills.
~smb
Thursday, July 19, 2007
the one with the height.
I am almost 5'-3". My license actually says 5'-3" , but I am more like 5'-2¾".
You probably gathered that from this sites address.
I have never felt short, I have always actually felt pretty tall. I actually tend to think that I am the same height as most people, or not that much shorter. If I am ever in the presence of someone that is shorter than me I tend to stand with my legs spread further apart so that I am shorter.. anyway.. to the story already!
When I first started walking, my heels didn't touch the ground. My mother thought there was something wrong with me, and took me to the doctor, I was fine.. I was/am just a toe walker.
One day while my friend Dawn was over at my house we measured ourselves using a measuring device* that was on a hallway wall. Dawn has always hovered over me by at least 4 inches or so, but I do not remember our exact heights. I do however remember that when she marked my height I stood on my toes
she asked me... 'why are you standing on your toes?
I replied... 'well, this is my natural height.'
I don't think she has ever stopped making fun of me for that.
I have also not stopped walking on my toes, and I think that is why I always feel tall, and why I have no problem walking in heels.
this story was recalled while sitting at my desk at work.
~smb
* I do not know what the name of that would be, height chart maybe?
You probably gathered that from this sites address.
I have never felt short, I have always actually felt pretty tall. I actually tend to think that I am the same height as most people, or not that much shorter. If I am ever in the presence of someone that is shorter than me I tend to stand with my legs spread further apart so that I am shorter.. anyway.. to the story already!
When I first started walking, my heels didn't touch the ground. My mother thought there was something wrong with me, and took me to the doctor, I was fine.. I was/am just a toe walker.
One day while my friend Dawn was over at my house we measured ourselves using a measuring device* that was on a hallway wall. Dawn has always hovered over me by at least 4 inches or so, but I do not remember our exact heights. I do however remember that when she marked my height I stood on my toes
she asked me... 'why are you standing on your toes?
I replied... 'well, this is my natural height.'
I don't think she has ever stopped making fun of me for that.
I have also not stopped walking on my toes, and I think that is why I always feel tall, and why I have no problem walking in heels.
this story was recalled while sitting at my desk at work.
~smb
* I do not know what the name of that would be, height chart maybe?
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
the one where I cared.
On September 1, 1983 my whole world turned upside down.
That was the day that my baby brother was born.
I hated him.
Seriously, I remember that the best part of going to the hospital to see him was that the nurse gave me some straws. I love straws.
Have no fear, I will not talk anymore about how much I didn't like him.... instead, I will tell you about the first time I remember really truly caring about him.
I think I had just turned seven. The family was over to celebrate my grandmother's birthday. We were gathered around the dining room table of my parents house and were celebrating with a bucket of fried chicken from KFC. The colonel did not do Davito right that day.
While eating his chicken, he started to choke on a bone. My mom, dad, and grandmother made a mad dash for him and took him outside... He wasn't exactly choking, it was stuck, but he was still breathing... My grandmother gave him the Heimlich out on the deck, I stayed inside.
It seemed like they were out there FOREVER. I asked my aunt if he was going to be ok, and she was completely honest with me and told me, ' I really don't know.'
I went into the bathroom and sat on the (closed) toilet and prayed and prayed and prayed to God that he would be ok... I went back out into the dining room to see if my prayers had been answered. They hadn't. I went back to the bathroom and prayed again... everyone must have thought I had a stomachache or something...
When I came out the second time, my grandmother was walking back inside with the scoop.
'Well, he upchucked and he is going to be ok'
I was relieved. I think that was also the first time that I really felt like God answered prayers.
I love that my grandma used the word upchuck.
xoxox
smb
That was the day that my baby brother was born.
I hated him.
Seriously, I remember that the best part of going to the hospital to see him was that the nurse gave me some straws. I love straws.
Have no fear, I will not talk anymore about how much I didn't like him.... instead, I will tell you about the first time I remember really truly caring about him.
I think I had just turned seven. The family was over to celebrate my grandmother's birthday. We were gathered around the dining room table of my parents house and were celebrating with a bucket of fried chicken from KFC. The colonel did not do Davito right that day.
While eating his chicken, he started to choke on a bone. My mom, dad, and grandmother made a mad dash for him and took him outside... He wasn't exactly choking, it was stuck, but he was still breathing... My grandmother gave him the Heimlich out on the deck, I stayed inside.
It seemed like they were out there FOREVER. I asked my aunt if he was going to be ok, and she was completely honest with me and told me, ' I really don't know.'
I went into the bathroom and sat on the (closed) toilet and prayed and prayed and prayed to God that he would be ok... I went back out into the dining room to see if my prayers had been answered. They hadn't. I went back to the bathroom and prayed again... everyone must have thought I had a stomachache or something...
When I came out the second time, my grandmother was walking back inside with the scoop.
'Well, he upchucked and he is going to be ok'
I was relieved. I think that was also the first time that I really felt like God answered prayers.
I love that my grandma used the word upchuck.
xoxox
smb
Friday, July 13, 2007
the one with kindergarten betrayal.
i have a very hard time being rejected.
i can remember the very first time i was rejected, or at least the first time i can remember.
i attended a private school from kindergarten through the third grade. there were maybe 20 kids in our class total.
one week i hung out almost exclusively with this girl named hillary. i thought she was awesome, i thought we would be best friends forever! she was fun to be with, i even asked her to help me deliver cupcakes to teachers once. (it was a big deal ok... and i was told i could pick someone to go with me, everyone wanted to do it!) that entire week i would walk into class and would immediately find hillary and start talking to her, abut who knows what... the next week when i walked into class and went up to her, she announced in a super snotty voice,'I AM NOT PLAYING WITH YOU TODAY!'
instead of crying, which i totally felt like doing, and which i would probably to today, if that were to happen again... i replied in an equally snooty voice,'I KNOW!'
that was that, until hillary decided that she would only hang out with another friend of mine, megan. i tried to warn megan, that hillary was no good, that she would drop her like she dropped me.. i really did, and i find that ridiculous... i mean, a five year old talking about betrayal?
of course megan didn't listen to me. i spent that week playing with whoever would allow me into their group. the week after that, guess what happened... thats right, hillary dropped megan like a headless barbie. i didn't feel bad though, i warned her!
hillary left the school after kindergarten and i have no idea what happened to her. she probably just went to another school and suckered other girls into being her bffaw. (best friend for a week)
later on in life i helped found a gang. i guess its because i never wanted to be without a friend again. (we will talk about that more later.)
i can remember the very first time i was rejected, or at least the first time i can remember.
i attended a private school from kindergarten through the third grade. there were maybe 20 kids in our class total.
one week i hung out almost exclusively with this girl named hillary. i thought she was awesome, i thought we would be best friends forever! she was fun to be with, i even asked her to help me deliver cupcakes to teachers once. (it was a big deal ok... and i was told i could pick someone to go with me, everyone wanted to do it!) that entire week i would walk into class and would immediately find hillary and start talking to her, abut who knows what... the next week when i walked into class and went up to her, she announced in a super snotty voice,'I AM NOT PLAYING WITH YOU TODAY!'
instead of crying, which i totally felt like doing, and which i would probably to today, if that were to happen again... i replied in an equally snooty voice,'I KNOW!'
that was that, until hillary decided that she would only hang out with another friend of mine, megan. i tried to warn megan, that hillary was no good, that she would drop her like she dropped me.. i really did, and i find that ridiculous... i mean, a five year old talking about betrayal?
of course megan didn't listen to me. i spent that week playing with whoever would allow me into their group. the week after that, guess what happened... thats right, hillary dropped megan like a headless barbie. i didn't feel bad though, i warned her!
hillary left the school after kindergarten and i have no idea what happened to her. she probably just went to another school and suckered other girls into being her bffaw. (best friend for a week)
later on in life i helped found a gang. i guess its because i never wanted to be without a friend again. (we will talk about that more later.)
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