In Memoriam

It is with great sadness I must report to you, oh blog-o-sphere, that my sweet guinea pig Jim passed away sometime this weekend. The story of his death is below.

Guinea Pig, Jim, age unknown, was found early Sunday afternoon in his Cordova, TN residence by close friend Kelly Smithson. Rigor mortis had set in. Cause of death is unknown. Cage-mate and close friend James was unable to provide any details as to Jim's death, but was described by Smithson as "sad-looking" and "shaken." Adequate food and water were present at the scene, apparently untouched. There was no forced-entry and at this time foul-play is not suspected. Care-taker and confidant Amy Pratt, who was not present at Jim's death, was available for a phone interview from Knoxville later this afternoon. "The news came as such a shock to me. I'm absolutely heart-broken that I wasn't there when he passed. I've been away for work since May, and I'll never forgive myself for not spending these last two months with him." While she would neither confirm nor deny, Pratt was questioned about earlier statements she had made regarding Jim's being "ambiguously gay" and "closeted." While she does believe that the guinea pig was negatively impacted by the passing of Pop Icon Michael Jackson late last month, Pratt balked at the suggestion that Jim's death could have been a suicide. "It's ludicrous and I won't hear such absurd notions. This interview is over." Pratt erupted into sobs and promptly hung up the phone.

If you have any information regarding the death of Jim the Guinea Pig, please contact Shelby County authorities.

Disclaimer #2

In my previous post, I made the statement "Most of all I'm embarrassed. ... that my parents have to make up stuff when people ask about the big law school student." Today after reading my post, my parents informed me that they do not make up stuff when people ask about school. They do not lie. "We're proud of you no matter what, kid," my dad assured me. "Lawyer, teacher, restaurant waitress..." "Let's not go that far," my mother interjected.

I told my parents that sometimes I exaggerate things for comedic or dramatic effect, i.e., the entire posting about Jim, my ambiguously gay guinea pig. My sister informed me that this is, in effect, lying. Sigh. Blog-o-sphere, they don't get us. Siiigggghhhh.

So, just to prevent further misunderstandings, I'd like to post my second disclaimer.

All statements and opinions expressed in this blog are solely those of the blogger, and not necessarily those of persons associated with the blogger. While stories and situations are based on actual people and events, they are not entirely true and/or accurate. However, any resemblance to actual people and events is purely on purpose. Names have been changed and/or kept the same to protect the innocent and/or completely moronic. I would also like to disclaim all warranties, express or limited, including, but not limited to, the implied warranties of merchantability and fitness for a particular purpose, just in case.

Further, please remember that my parents are not liars, and my mother was just joking when she made the comment "let's not go that far." All in good fun, blog-o-sphere. All in good fun.

The Rest of the Story...

My mouth has a tendency to get me in trouble. Like the one time I was in the middle of clocking out at closing time at Target and I just yelled out "I AM NOT A STUPID WHORE!" right in front of God and everybody because somebody commented on my newly highlighted hair. It made for a few good laughs...for days. Then there was the time when I was vice president of my sorority and I complained at a meeting about having to do homework AND try to conceal four hickeys AND deal with sisters getting arrested/whoring around at frat houses. I got hate mail under my door after that because "we are all SUPER busy and YOU wanted the job."

But guess what? This is my blog. So I'm going to get myself in trouble as I see fit. You guys ready for some mouth-dropping truth?

I thought you might be.

Mom, if you're reading this, don't hate me for spilling my guts. But it has to be said because I really suck at lying. And I'd rather just tell the truth so people don't gossip. And maybe 5 people total read my blog.

So this law school business? This "do I want to go back?" business. A complete and total ruse. The real story? They won't let me come back because my grades really suck. I wish I could be like "yeah man, I partied way too hard and didn't give a rat's a** anyway." The sad part is, I really tried. Like really. I briefed cases and took notes and studied hard. I just couldn't cut it.

It's okay. You guys can make fun of me, because, well, chances are, I've made fun of you at some point. It's cool. We're all human. It's just my turn to have a slice of humble pie.

And humbled I have been! Of course I'm sad! I thought this was what I was going to do. I'm terrified about my next move. Most of all, I'm embarrassed. I'm embarrassed I had to take that Memphis Law sticker off my car. And that I have to tell my grandmother I won't be drafting her last will and testament (or maybe that's a good thing? I can't tell...) And that my parents have to make up stuff when people ask about the big law school student. Ugh...

I just had to set the record straight, and maybe that wasn't the right way to do it. I hate that rumors are flying and nobody actually asks me what's going on. They just tiptoe around it and ask other people. I'd rather you, oh blog-o-sphere, hear it straight from the horse's mouth...whatever that means.

And we can all still be friends. And you can still talk about law school. And I'll still be living in Memphis.

And I'll find my way. Don't you worry about me.

I Love Brutal Honesty. I Hate Brutal Honesty.

I'm about to be brutally honest.

When my lifelong friend Morgan and I were attached at the face (remember that? with Lili and Bambers? Ah, memory lane.) we had some sort of running joke about being "jaded." Everybody was jaded. It was in every song. On every reality tv series. Jaded. It was so cliche.

I'm jaded. I hate it.
-John Mayer

Meeee too. I'm pretty sure I've cried at some point almost every day for the past three weeks. Why? I'm terrified about my future. I'm heartbroken over a shattered dream. And, to be even more teenage girl about this, I miss Sean. And I'm afraid that insecure jealous girlfriend is about to rear her ugly head and run him off.

When it all ended with gay boyfriend #2, he told one of our mutual friends that I was smothering him. I know that's not the reason it ended (I mean, obviously. I have womanly parts. Duh.) but that still haunts me, false or not.

Morgan, you once wrote somewhere that you were/loved to be "living and loving with reckless abandon." I love that. I used to be able to do that. Now I wish I could do that. I've found it's safer to live and love at arm's length. Guard your heart, right?

My high school English teacher used to tell us that you can't be anything you want to be. I thought that was cruel, planting doubt and pessimism in our young, impressionable minds. But it's true; all the wishin' and hopin' and thinkin' and dreamin' in the world can't get you where you want to be. We can't all be doctors and lawyers and indian chiefs. Some of us are just supposed to be janitors or secretaries. There's nothing wrong with that. It's just not what you go to kindergarten thinking you'll be when you grow up.

"Miss Smith, I want to be a trophy wife when I grow up. Or maybe work in retail if that falls through. Scrap that, Smitty. I'm gunna be a career alcoholic, just like my Uncle Junior!"

Dream big, kid. Reality bites.

'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD. 'Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'
-Jeremiah 29:11

Lord Jesus, I'm trying to believe this. I am. Please help me through this rough patch. Please put that smile back on my face. Please put dreams back in my heart.

Thank you for letting me do that, blog-o-sphere. I do feel better now. And I'm not always a Debbie Downer, swear. Sometimes, I get sad and I need you to hurt with me for just a minute instead of glossing over it.

This Baptist girl may be taking this out of context, but a wise Savior once said, "[T]he truth shall set you free."

He was right.

Hey Now, Hey Now (this is what dreams are made of...)

I had a terrible nightmare about cats last night. Cats of the domestic variety. Not the Broadway variety. My family moved back into our old house because that was the only place the refrigerator would work. We lived with our dog Zoe and six mean cats. They kept jumping on my head. Then I went to the mall and ran into my boyfriend, who was running around the mall in a suit playing some sort of fantasy WOW-esque game with his twenty-something year old friends who looked 17.

Sean, I've got to start tuning out the talk about orc-shamans and blood elves. I'll just think of Edward Cullen. And the Indian werewolf kid. Nod and smile. ;)

I just don't think the office is my place. I've made an art out of coffee making and oatmeal eating. And I can use paperclips like nobody's business. Oh, it's 5 o'clock somewhere.

Have I mentioned lately that I HATE making decisions? I'm hoping an answer will fall out of the sky. When I least expect it. Just like boyfriends are supposed to.

Dear Lord Jesus (yeah, I call him by two names, what of it?), I'd like to phone a friend. Yes. The prophet Daniel. To interpret my dreams. No. Not the one about the cats. Yes, there was that time with the lions. The recurring dream I had during law school. The one about never showing up to English and Spanish classes I was supposed to pass to graduate. The one where I was too busy with law classes to do my homework and show up. Does that mean I have unfinished business there? Oh. It means I shouldn't eat before bed? Gotcha.

Strip me of my pride and need for prestige. Patience is a virtue. Now back to my receipts...

A Quarter-Life Crisis, or Just a Stirrin' in My Soul?

OH DEAR.

What a week it has been. And it's only...Wednesday? Do I want to share the whole nitty-gritty story? Yes. Eventually. Just not now. I just feel the need to write right now so I can breathe.

I am at a complete and total crossroads right now. Decisions to make. Have some been made for me? Soon enough we'll see. I would just first like to send out a huge thank you to TylenolPM for allowing me to talk to my parents for an hour without sobbing uncontrollably and then shove a bowl of cereal down my throat without vomiting, and also for keeping me knocked out til the early morning hours in a dreamless sleep. I really believe that TylenolPM is basically Xanax...but with a sleep aid. Kelly gave me a Xanax at my mother's insistence when Brandon broke up with me the week before exams and I started hyperventilating. He loved me. We were getting married. He was the one! Now I spread the gospel of Taylor Swift. You do the math.

Before we continue, rest easy. I am not pregnant. I am not engaged. I am not terminally ill. Not that being pregnant or engaged are bad things. You know what I mean, right? Oh nevermind. I know you do.

I just may not continue on with law school, that's all. That's all. I wrote that so non-chalantly. Just keep me in your prayers that the Lord will lead me where I'm supposed to be. I may take some time off. I may press on. I may not ever go back. My original plan for if I didn't go back to school was faking my death and moving to Mexico. Sweat all day with my pool boy Javier. Play with the little native children. "Como se llaman, ninos? No soy 'child molester.' Ven aqui" I just wasn't sure I could swallow my pride and not continue. I thought I had my future figured out. I don't. That's scary as hell. It's also exciting to think about the options I do have. Just don't think less of me. At least I gave it a shot.

So what now? Wait and see. Listen for that still small voice. Because, as we Baptists say, God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good. It's me I have to worry about...

A Blog with A Lot of Taylor Swift and Horse References

I started to blog last week but thought better of it because this is what I ended up with:

I've spent the past six days that I've been home feeling incredibly sorry for myself, sobbing uncontrollably and dreaming up worst-case-scenarios for my future that end with me being alone, morbidly obese, unloved, and making minimum wage. This leads to more boo-hooing and my sitting half-dressed in pajamas on my futon-bed with liquid eyeliner streaming down my face as I whisper to myself, "I'm not a princess. This ain't a fairytale." It's like a trailer-park version of a Taylor Swift song.

Charming, I know. Now that I've mostly recovered from my little pity party hangover, I feel better equipped to handle the mammoth task that is blogging.

The grades are slowly rolling in, and thank goodness for that! So far, so much better than last semester. It was one humbling learning experience for sure. Somewhere along the way to law school I lost my cut-throat competitive edge. It's amazing what some people do just to get ahead, though. I've had complete tools tell me they stopped briefing cases or doing outlines because it was overrated (I'm not an idiot, hurrrr). Then somebody tells you they overheard that very person psyching themselves in front of the bathroom mirror before moot court. Yeah man. No em-effin' worries here. Life is but a dream. I'm just happy to be improving and keeping my head above water right now. I most definitely needed to be humbled.

Apart from having to adjust to being long-distance for the summer, things are all good on the relationship front. And that's all you get.

On a related note, I think relationships have to be the scariest things in the world. It's wedding season, but I've stumbled across broken engagement after broken engagement after divorce (?!) on Facebook (the equal opportunity stalker) lately. It's probably good that Disney has made the shift from fairy-tale princess movies to movies about dogs and superheroes and such. Another valuable life lesson I've learned this year is what BS the notion of "happily ever after" truly is. I hate to beat a dead "White Horse," but I think Miss Swift might be right: You aren't a princess. This ain't a fairytale. Go to school and don't settle for an MRS degree. Learn how to do for yourself. Of course, it's okay to let him open doors and buy you dinner. Just don't fool yourself into thinking that when you know, you know, and that love conquers all. I tried that once. I think it takes more.

Tara is leaving me soon to go back to Buffalo. I thought she was here to stay, but she disappoints me once again. Never mind that I'll be in Knoxville only another two months; I'm the only one allowed to go off and have a life in a different city. Ironically though, I have friends who seem to actually have that mindset. Forget the fact that I'm consumed by school, that I buy my own groceries, do my own laundry, pay my own rent, and clean my own apartment! When I have free time I'm supposed to sit in my apartment and make phone calls that will go unanswered while they're out having lives. Nope, that's not balanced. Cue guilt trip. In the words of Jason Mraz (whom I mostly despise, by the way): the telephones, well, they're workin' 'em both ways.

Being home for the summer is not as bad as I thought it was last week. It's nice having a dog for a pet once more (Jim, please don't take offense to that. You're the best guinea pig a pet owner could ask for. Don't die while I'm gone.), and I've enjoyed going walking/running with my Mom. She's my captive audience and I can tell her anything. Literally. That is one perk of growing up I suppose. I do miss Memphis more than I anticipated. I guess I've established a life there, with my cute apartment and friends and boyfriend and routine. I think this coming fall should be a good one. I feel that good things are in store. In the meantime, I'm trying to stay busy making some money and finishing up the Twilight series. Reading alone could take the whole summer since I have the attention span of a third grader. Curse you, Bella Swan.

Time to get off my high horse and get back down to earth. Look for more BS revelations from Amy Pratt in the near future.

PS-Please pardon the weird thing my font is doing with the size and junk. I'm paragraph-setting illiterate.