A New Semester

“All roads out of hell lead home.”

― Shannon L. Alder

I have not died or dropped off the planet. I’ve been kind of preoccupied with school and where I’ve been residing during the school week doesn’t have WiFi.

There’s not much new that’s going on other than the fact that I’m taking 17 credit hours and feeling slightly overwhelmed. It’s like from day one, I’m jumping in feet first.

I may have burned the bridge with Superman. It was time. I don’t know what else to say other than that. I’d like to rant about it, maybe someday I will but for now, I’ll just leave it at that.

I am still in contact with Batman. I’m not sure what to say on that front. It’s. . . complicated.

I can’t wait to meet the me of four years from now. She’ll evny my ignorance of things to come but I envy her wisdom of things that have passed and/or will pass.

I have come to a stand still in the case against my mom’s husband. I don’t want to deal with it. It’s immature of me but I don’t want to deal with the responsibility and consequences of it. Maybe if I ignore it then it will go away. I’ve applied that logic to a few problems in my life and they never turned out well. Wishful thinking on my part.

Here’s to a new semester of passing grades, fun-filled school activities, boring lectures, all nighters, and the hopeful return of a couple scholarships.


Two Years and Counting

“I didn’t want to upset my loved ones, but I couldn’t carry this alone.”

― Julie Flygare

Two years ago today: Time.

We made it to two years! A LOT has changed since.

To me in 2014:

We’re 20 years old! We’re in college. This is actually our second year in college. We’ve done quite a bit of growing up. We’re still, unfortunately, residing in our hometown. But we missed our grandmother while we were staying on campus. Even the incessant fussing.

We’re. . . still indecisive and confused about life, despite the growing up we’ve done. God! We sure know how to love. We were born for it. All those romance novels we read sure didn’t help none either. But. . . prepare for disappointment. There’s a reason love has a bad rep. Maybe two years from now, the me in 2018 will be writing to the me of 2016 and informing me that the guys we’re in love with now are a distant memory. I sort of hope that’s the case.

It doesn’t go away. Sometimes the memories and flashbacks sneak up on us. We still haven’t discovered all of our triggers and how to avoid them. We’ve discovered alcohol which numbs the pain some but we’re going to stop using it to self-medicate. Worse things can happen if we indulge in our alcohol use too much.

I miss you. We’ll never recapture the innocence of our youth but you’re more innocent than I am now and I miss it. I want that ignorance. It is bliss.

But congratulations to us and a big thanks to our readers. We’ve made it to two years and hopefully we’ll make it to several more.



“At the end of the day, we can endure much more than we think we can.”

― Frida Kahlo

This time the hiatus was sort of intentional. I didn’t want to make several self-deprecating, poor me posts. My previous post had that vibe. I need to find healthier ways to deal with my low self-esteem.

In other news, nearly half of my state is underwater. Louisiana has suffered some serious flooding and over 20,000 people have been rescued from flooded areas. The death toll has risen to 7.

It doesn’t feel real. I’m in this state and I reside in one of the cities that have been heavily affected. Garrett is in the national guard and he and his unit have been performing rescues in my hometown. My grandmother and I are fine. There’s no flooding in our neighborhood or on our street. So it seems unreal that just a few streets over, someone is being rescued from the rooftop of their house.

I feel kind of disconnected from the loss. I’ve lost everything before. A house fire burned everything I owned and I barely escaped with my life. So I can relate but it just doesn’t seem real. I feel disconnected from it all. All I can think is, ‘are the roads clear for me to drive to my University for when classes start’, and I feel bad for thinking that when some people don’t even have a home to stay in anymore.

All I have to say now is, please pray for Louisiana.



“We loved with a love that was more than love.”

― Edgar Allan Poe

Sounds nice, huh? A love that was more than love. I want that. I do. But there’s a small voice in my ear that tells me I’m undeserving of it.

I don’t know why, morbid curiousity maybe, but I went back and read Superman’s blog. My emotions took a turn. Or maybe the confusion and frustration from today just spilled over.

He once called me a beacon of light. I wish I could say the same about him. He’s edgey. There’s. .  . a darkness about him and I thought, ‘here’s someone that I can be broken with.’ Ever met anyone like that?

I want to be saved. I guess there’s still a part of me that’s waiting for someone to rescue the scared and abused little girl I used to be. She got out. She got away from her abusers. She needs saving from herself.

Is it not ironic that for the two men in my life, I chose the monkier of superheroes with dual identities?

Superman and Batman are no good for me. One encourages the darkness I’m trying to battle and the other. .  . makes me feel like a fucking princess being rescued. I don’t need saving and if I did, I can save myself. But this post isn’t about my love life, it’s about me and my shortcomings. There’s a couple of them.

Self-esteem. I battle with it. On some days I feel like a narcissist and on others, I feel like the worst person on the planet. I wish I could find a happy medium.

I wish I wasn’t always confused and indecisive. I wish I knew what I wanted and had the courage to go after it. Fear. Fear of pain, hurt, and rejection keeps me meek, passive. Only here do I have the courage to speak my mind and the murmurings of my heart. Otherwise, I feel like they’d fall on deaf ears.

“And in the end, we were all just humans… drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.”

― F. Scot Fitzgerald


Worker Bee

“It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well.”

― J.K. Rowling

Who am I to say something? What do I know?

I’ve never held a leadership position before in the workplace. I’ve been employed for all of six months. Who am I to say something about someone’s leadership skills and/or techniques? What do I know about leadership?

I’m reconsidering my employment at my second job. I will explain the situation and try to keep it as confidential as posible.

My job uses this app called ‘GroupMe’ to maintain communication among teammembers. It’s. . . a novel idea. It’s definitely new to me. Well, I was invited to the group because I’m now a member of the team. To get a feel of my fellow coworkers, I thought I’d go back and read previous conversations.

I. . . think there’s a problem. It is possible for things to be misunderstood or misinterpreted via text. But. . . I’m fully aware of what constructive criticism is and I don’t think my managers exercise it. I’m new. I’m probably going to screw up a few times. But after reading the harsh undertones and just the blatant intimidation in the messages gives me the impression that the managers don’t handle mistakes and scew ups well. At my former job, we had a team lead. If he had a problem, he’d address the team in person or that individual in private but not over a group message that the entire staff is privy too. It just seems immature and slightly unprofessional.

But in this instance, I feel like the worker bee and who am I to argue with or dispute the queen?


Two Jobs

“Without ambition one starts nothing. Without work one finishes nothing. The prize will not be sent to you. You have to win it.”

― Ralph Waldo Emerson 

I got the job!

The title kind of gave it away but I now have two jobs. Well, I will after tomorrow. I go in tomorrow to fill out my paperwork and to schedule my training. I’m excited about how much more money I will be making but I’m dreading working two jobs while attending college full-time. I hope my grades won’t suffer.


Home Alone

“The trouble is not really in being alone, it’s being lonely. One can be lonely in the midst of a crowd, don’t you think?”

― Christine Feehan

Until something monumentous happens, I’m done blogging about my nonexistent overdramaticed love life.

Have you ever gotten yourself into something that you intially wanted but later came to realize you didn’t? That’s how I’m feeling about MTS. This. . . is my blog. My readers, “fan-base” if you will, is here. Blogging here, pouring out my heart and soul here, feels natural. I feel like I have to force myself to write content for my blog on MTS. It’s. . .foreign. I guess you have to start somewhere. Two years ago, this blog had no readers. I just have to give it time I guess. The novelty had worn off.

I think my interview went well. The assistant manager said I was her first interviewee. Suffice to say we were both nervous. But she said she liked me and that she’ll put in a good word for me. She thinks I’ll be a good fit. If I get the job, we’ll see if I manage working two jobs better than I manage maintaining two blogs.

Tonight is the second night that my grandmother has decided to sleep elsewhere and has left me in the house alone. It will be the second night that I will not get any sleep and remain awake till the sun rises. It’s like. . . the minute I get comfortable in this house, a sound or a shadow or something puts me on alert. If this woman is going to spend another night in someone else’s home then I’m going to spend the weekend somewhere else. There won’t be a third night of me being here alone.