The South Carolina Comparison


I went crazy and chopped all of my hair off…then I blew up Instagram and Facebook (and I think one went to Tumblr.) I don’t feel bad, at all. I’ve really tried to limit the amount of, “selfie” pics I post because no-one likes that girl. I really didn’t give two damns this weekend though. I let six inches of hair go; hair that was my shield when I needed it, that I sometimes hid behind and gave me confidence at other times. It was a big change and the fact that I felt more confident after cutting it made me brave enough to post about it.

NOTE: I felt even more inclined to post pictures of my new do because I survived a two-toned, chain-smoking Betty that was three mimosas in and working on the fourth when I sat down in her chair. I knew what was going to happen, I felt the fear creeping up…the potential for bad cut and color was there, but I took the risk. I feel as though I got very lucky…it’s not every day someone drunk-cuts your precious blonde locks and you willingly let her do so. Had the cut gone wrong, I would have chalked it up to the circle of shit (excuse the French) that’s been my life lately. Fortunately, I didn’t have to do that. I probably won’t go back to that particular salon since it was a tad risky, but it ended up being a positive experience, chain-smoking aside.

As far as selfies are concerned, I’m giving up the shame that comes with them. I know they aren’t for everyone, and those who speculate so much probably don’t post any, but I think they’re okay. I see nothing wrong with posting an image of yourself as long as it’s done in a positive way. I came across this on my favorite site to browse ( and I couldn’t agree more:

Now, for the exciting stuff (well, in my opinion it’s exciting.)

I know I’ve been fickle on the issue, but I simply cannot change the location in my book. I was able to spend a large part of my weekend with The Anchor and it’s just not believable in my mind if I change from South Carolina to Georgia. I lose the coastline in my mind, Emerald Cove doesn’t exist and the place where Bridget makes a giant confession is lost; there’s just no way I can rid the story of South Carolina.

You see, I’m attached to the memories in the book as it is. I’ve reshaped them in a way, for back of a better term, for disguise and I just can’t imagine camouflaging them in a place I can’t visualize. I’m sure the truth behind the book will come out one day, maybe it won’t, but I can’t dream of putting this story anywhere but Beulah, South Carolina, no matter how much it may pain me to be compared to Nicholas Sparks and his beach-romance novels.

I think it’s really interesting – this whole writing process thing. I thought I’d be able to easily and happily change the story over from one location to another, no problem. It’s amazing that after a few short hours of reading and researching, my heart felt that it couldn’t be done; that the roots of the story had already been firmly planted and that there was no moving the location around. These characters are from Beulah. Norah (a semi-frequent character in the book) wouldn’t have her hair shop in the same place…had I moved the story to Savannah I would have had to completely redesign Main Street….and it took me long enough to get the topography of the city right in the first place. (Yes, I’ve drawn out a map and everything.)

These kind of decisions are extremely liberating as a writer (I don’t feel quite confident enough to call myself an author yet.) I love that my characters and storyline were strong enough to convince me that the move couldn’t be made. It’s because of allllllllllllllll of the other 4989695425 decisions I’ve made thus far regarding this project that led me to this final decision. The South Carolina Comparison has been completed. AND IT FEELS GOOD!


I normally don’t enjoy getting on soap boxes about friendship because I feel so strongly about it and often feel that I overstep my boundaries. But recently, everything in my mind has been centered around feelings towards friendship and I know that for the next few entries I’ll speak on it at least once. This time around it’s in the shape of a rant.

If you know me, you know that I am your friend until I’m blue in the face; the listening ear, the shoulder to cry on, the ever-sympathizing soul, the friend that will tell it like it is but with just the right amount of sugar on top. Here’s the thing though….not all people operate their friendships like this. I know that there are times when our friends need a little and other times our friends need a lot. HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW IF THEY DON’T TELL US? I will be the first to admit that I’ve had to really lean on my friends through this divorce that I’m going through (yep, there I said it.) I don’t particularly enjoy asking for help, I firmly believe that I can do most things on my own, but sometimes you just have to be woman (man) enough to admit that you need it and ask. another thought: your friends are not mind readers (and if they are I’d like to meet them.) They cannot possibly know that you’re feeling shut out and alone. Most of the time when we feel alienated or alone, we’ve done it to ourselves. I’m not afraid to admit that I’ve fallen off the face of the earth quite a few times, even recently. Call it a lack of desire to explain what’s going on or testing out your friends to, “see who really cares,” or whatever….either way you end up feeling left out in the cold because you can’t just open up and say what it is you need. We’re not mind readers. It’s not that we don’t care…we just don’t know.

Being a friend is hard. If you do it and you do it well, and have others in your life that do it well, thank them for their friendship. For real.

end longest rambling post ever.


they’re just words


well yall, I knew the day would come, where I’d get good and angry and feel inspired enough to write down some actual ugly truth. I’m so serious, I’m like Miranda Lambert stomping around in rhinestone-studded boots pissed off. I’m not sure if it’s worth spouting off because there’s no point to this post except to just get the words out of my head. subconsciously I’ll think that everyone in the world agrees with what I have to say and I’ll actually be able to sleep at night once I rid myself of these thoughts. you see? I’m exceptional at fooling myself.

which is what got me in an irate state. I am absolutely befuddled as to why we allow ourselves to take the words of loved ones and believe whole-heartedly, anticipating truth. It blows my damn mind that people can throw such empty words at you, and that you let them. I wonder how much we say to people, and how much people actually say to us, is measured? grain of salt? do you think people do that when you speak? I certainly don’t think about this when friends and family are talking to me – you know the people I hold closest to my heart – but I guess I should.

the problem is expectation. complacency. devotion. different things that exasperate me.

“but I thought…”
“well, I assumed….”
“I’m always going to.”

I just don’t even know…..I wonder if any of this is making sense. Hunter S. Thompson would approve of my stream of conscience. Indeed.

How can we just….say things to each other? Or not say them? How is it possible that intangible things can kill us. “They’re just words.” I wish this were true. – I guess that the entire point of this rant; wow, I’ve come full-circle. I love when this happens! – I couldn’t imagine a world where words, both spoken, written and unspoken, don’t just rip you up. Like seriously that would be the best world ever…it would be bliss; empty bliss.

I can’t even fathom a life or world without words; language. it’s my passion…my purpose. I suppose that’s why I place so much weight in the way you say things to people – much is carried there.

I’m just not certain of how to form them together correctly anymore, and it’s infuriating. I’m scared to write something down and actualize those feelings. Like this, this is hard. But here I am writing down all my crappy feelings, word vomiting like we did during our Xanga days and just letting it out because that’s the power that words give you.

but they’re just words.

twenty-something and etcetera


I’m not sure where to begin this post. Several things have come to my attention lately – I have an entire laundry list of things  on my mind – so much has changed since my last post just before Halloween. I suppose I’ll start with a laugh, because…well I freaking love to laugh and it makes the most grim of situations bearable.

I read this article last night and actually, “lol-ed.” (I cannot stand typing LOL…I never use it, I think it looks like a confused smile with a uni-brow.)

33 Weird Thoughts Every Woman Starts Having In Her Mid 20s

Note: After further investigation, the comments on this article have been hilarious and ridiculous. People entertain me so much!

Twenty-something weird thoughts are absolutely a real thing. I had no idea the person that was living in my mind/soul/body was actually me. While I don’t care about nutritional facts being on a wine label – I’m a scotch girl anyhow – I feel like it’s absolutely okay to say no to events and friends and opt for sweats and Ben&Jerry (they count as friends.) I feel like it’s okay to rejoice when my paycheck clears because I’ve literally just spent every damn dime I have on a pair of cute shoes that I’m only going to vacuum in – I especially justify this one….like who doesn’t need more vacuuming heels?


Number 20 of this list really struck me. Who actually has a solid routine? I want to freaking know and I want to know how you do it. Wanting a routine and not actually having a routine is perfectly acceptable; the main point is that you’re trying. Right? I can see my best friend Emma and my mother reading this and eye-rolling at me at this very second- I’ve never understood how two people can be so well planned. I have a calendar on my phone, a planner where I physically write everything down, a large desk calendar at work and I still can’t manage to have a solid routine. My days are all over the place. I don’t have a specific time for bed or waking up or practicing yoga or anything. Everything just sort of happens around my work and I go from there. My intentions are good I swear!

Though I spend a good deal of my time lately being frustrated enough to smash all of my breakables to bits, I like being a twenty-something. Despite all of the physical and emotional crap that’s happening – and honestly there’s too much of that – I feel like I’m conquering the damn world.

The physical stuff I’ve kind of got a handle on since I’ve fallen so deeply in love with yoga. I can do it with my eyes closed now (for the most part) and I really let myself focus on the breathing. Ujjayi breath is where it’s at yall – and you have to work on it! I was having an extremely hard time convincing myself it was okay to get on the mat last week. Lots going on emotionally and I was incredibly nervous about getting back at it; like a giant looming conversation you just really want to protest and ignore for forever. Who needs to have awkward conversations? Not me, nope, no way. I couldn’t find the will, or a way to step back on, until I read this:

This blog was the perfect boost. I am obviously so happy to be reminded regularly that I am not the only pebble on the beach and that the way I feel is a-okay. “Feelings are friends!” I hear some therapist spouting in my head. I feel like that’s a crock because feelings (at least for me right now) are far from friends. Frenemies, maybe….but definitely not friends. How could that be possible? Feelings make you stupid: laughing that snowballs in to crying which can produce actual tears and then oh-heavens-who-knows-what (probably an entire pint of B&J and more crying.) I don’t have time to be red-eyed and puffy. I don’t have time to feel things or explain what’s happening in my head (to myself or anyone – if I don’t even understand, how could you possibly?)

I suppose this not-so-smoothly transitions me for my next little rant…

IF YOU WANT TO KNOW JUST ASK ME. But for Pete’s sake, be ready for an answer you didn’t expect or desire. I speculate about so many things with the best of ’em.

“Are they, aren’t they?”

“Will they, won’t they?”

“She’s back on Facebook.”

” Did you see what she posted on Instagram? AND what her caption was?”

I get it. We live in the age of social media and it’s easy to just stalk, assess and assume…and then spread the news. I understand. I feel like this is really really really taking a toll on how people associate with each other; how relationships are viewed and how, maybe, the people in these relationships view each other (which is disgusting. I cannot condone for another second people meeting over social media. I don’t get it. How could you possibly expect someone from an app called tinder to be the next great love of your life?)

I received a call over the weekend from a friend, because I hadn’t been on Facebook in a while and she hadn’t really heard anything from/about me. First of all when I saw her number come up on caller ID, I gasped! Not an email, not a text message, an actual call? Holy 20th century, Batman. She was timid at first to ask me what’s been going on, but she finally did and we talked in an extremely healthy, happy way and for quite a while. I answered all of her questions willingly ( because I have absolutely nothing to hide) and ended the conversations feeling relieved and loved. I shouldn’t feel relieved when I get a call from someone checking in on me, but that’s how foreign it feels. I know that I operate my personal life in an extremely private way, but that’s because I respect it (and other parties involved.)

Other parties involved: NOT YOU. Not everyone is down to just blast their past and present away on Facebook or Twitter or wherever.

…but if you have enough balls to ask, then I’ll happily oblige you. I’m an open book.

Speaking of….

The Anchor has been under revision and is taking a new turn. I felt like it was a bit exploitative of extremely memorable and important moments in my life and that just didn’t sit well with me. Of course, I’m tickled positively-pink that my first draft is in print and includes these moments, but I am happy to say they will not make it to print and distribution. Some of those memories belong in a beautiful box, just for me. Locked in a trunk that’s in a trunk that’s in a ship that will eventually sink and will one day, long after I’m gone, be just words to some lucky pirate.  Or the ship will be blown to smithereens – that’s seems to be fitting of how everything is playing out currently.

I think the changes I’m making are extremely positive. I read Nicholas Sparks’ The Best of Me and completely changed my tune towards my own book. Though I am impressed with his career – obviously. Every book he sells gets made in to a motion picture – I couldn’t bear being compared to him in that genre should anything ever come to fruition with my own work. I am beyond nervous to go back through and change the setting from Beulah, South Carolina to Beulah, Georgia; I feel like this is going to require a large leap of faith. So much of the book is nautical based and who knows, maybe I’ll discover that it can’t be done and I’ll have to suck it up and be, “that girl that wasn’t quite Sparks,” but I’m at very least going to try.

I’m sad (as Leighann and Nadia will be) that the concert scene is going to be taken out. I can’t bear to leave it in the novel, the more I think of it. It’s too personal and too wonderful a memory to throw out in to the wide world of careless young-adult judgement. Perhaps I’ll post it here for a brief moment…we’ll see.

All in all…being a twenty-something writer that’s recently moved home due to an over-the-top, intense life change is going okay. I’m accepting that it all comes day-to-day and that I really can’t anticipate or expect what tomorrow will bring.

I can and WILL anticipate and expect amazing music though. And so should you. Enjoy swaying to this lovely tune while you forget about Monday. Thanks for reading this ramble. pretty ugly update soon.