Currently I am sitting at my job, wishing I was at a coffee shop, stewing in the unending mess that is my head after a break up. My mind is racing at about a 1000 words a minute, but I am going to attempt to put some of these thoughts down here in a cognitive way that will explain where I am mentally, while also telling you all another heart wrenching story about my life that changed the way I view relationships, friendships, and how to approach dealing with a break up. Here is the often heard of, but never truly discussed break up with Becky Gorman and how Ben Folds has a special place in my heart. Continue reading Break Ups, Ben Folds, and Realizing Life Is Worth Living
Here I sit in the Frothy Monkey in the 12 South district of Nashville, just down the street from the restaurant where I arguably spent most of my time during the years I lived in this fantastic city. It was in this coffee shop I sat down and decided that if I was going to make it in this world as a writer I was going to have be dedicated to my craft. I couldn’t continue to find excuses on why I couldn’t write today. I had to find the dedication to take the time to pull out my laptop and type, even if it was only a few words. There were definitely days when I would write 100 words and just be over it, but at least I remained dedicated to the one activity I always cared about.
(To all of those out there reading this: One, Sally feel free to read this one. I don’t think there is too much in it that will upset you. Two, my editor took a few liberties in the editing process and I only recently discovered them. I left them for posterity sake though)
Many people have found that one of the negatives of growing up is you tend to grow apart from the friends you made as a child. It makes sense if you think about it; people change, move, get married, have kids, grow up, grow old, grow apart, get sick, and die. It is one of the negatives of aging. As a child the world is an endless array of possibilities. The person you ride bikes with down to the 7-11 to grab Slurpees, even though your parents told you not to go there without them, will one day have his or her own life across the country only to be heard from occasionally on social media. (Only a short 10 years ago or so, even this wasn’t possible, and the only way to know where someone ended up was through rumors and local lore with tales starting with, “Did you hear where Kat went?”). Fortunately for me, even with all of the crusades I ventured on, the many times I decided it was time to pack my bags and head to a different part of this globe, I am lucky enough to have one friend (this is not a retelling of the story of my best friend, so please continue before growing bored and assuming I have run out of wonderful tales to tell) who, through all of the hurdles Life put in our way, has remained one of the lynchpins of my existence.
For years one of my friends has asked me to write a story in which he was one of the main characters, and while he and I have shared many adventures together there was never a story I could tell without it being just a very simple and short, “I have always considered him a close friend, who I care about dearly.” He and I have never been in a fight together at a wedding. Thankfully there was never an incident between the two of us which concluded with jalapeño juice debilitating me for hours afterwards. Never have he and I accidentally gotten married in a bar, while being overly intoxicated. No, his and my friendship has always been what many people would have considered to be a normal one. We would get together and watch Red Sox games, which is actually how we met, then go out after the game was over and play darts until they made last call at the Edgefield in East Nashville. We would part ways, then get together on the next Friday (or Saturday, depending on work schedule) to watch another game, and continue the cycle. The story I have the extreme pleasure of telling is the story of the best conversation I have ever had (Sorry, Carter), and I’ll always be glad that conversation occurred with my good friend, my brother, Nate (His real name. He deserves all the credit in the world for being a fantastic individual). Continue reading Friendship, Family, and a Great Converastion
(Sally: This one has some things you may take issue with. I wouldn’t recommend it. Not today anyway.)
Not too long ago a buddy of mine was visiting me in sunny south Florida. Right before he left to make the atrocious 11-hour drive back to Nashville he decided to impart some unsolicited words of wisdom on me. He informed me that the one thing that would “complete” me “as a man” would be a little puppy. To this ridiculous statement (as if I need anything to complete me as a man, I’m pretty darn perfect) I laughed, and told him that would never happen. He attempted to convince of me of his idea for what seemed like way too long to be discussing whether or not I should own a puppy, and when his attempts ended fruitless he started his venture back to Nashville (leaving the better portion of his clothes in my dryer. I hope he doesn’t need those anytime soon). Continue reading Why I Don’t Own Pets (or have children)
(*Sally: Do not read this one. Actually, if you know me personally you may not want to read this one)
As I was sitting in a Starbucks with a friend of mine who was detailing the horrors of sex education, and how the absolute fear of utilizing what she didn’t know was called a diaphragm made her completely uncomfortable (a conversation that made me completely uncomfortable) I started to remember the years before I became the person I am today, when I was still under the impression I would wait until marriage to lose my virginity, and envisioned that by this point in my life I would be a happy, successful, family man (run on sentence for the win). That was a long time ago, before my heart had grown calloused to the thought of being in a relationship and still believed in things like Cameron Crowe movies, and that John Cusack was the best actor in the world. Don’t get me wrong, I still love Cameron Crowe movies, I just don’t believe in love stories anymore (Sorry How I Met Your Mother). Continue reading Sex Ed, Video Stores and V-Cards
(Sally: Do not! Do not! Do not! You don’t want this in your head. I 100% promise you that. Do not open this link.)
(Everyone else: If you know me, this may change the way you see me and not in the same way as other stories may have changed the way you see me. This story is really dark. Be warned before proceeding.)
Right now, Jupiter can be viewed from earth by the naked eye. That doesn’t have a lot to do with the story I’m about to tell, but does have a lot to say about the importance of timing in our lives.
Timing is uncontrollable, and undeniable. There is this girl I had a crush on a while back, but I didn’t have her number so I couldn’t get in contact with her. One day I went to the gym (because even perfection needs maintenance) and realized once I got there I had left all of my swimming gear at home. I drove back to the house, grabbed my gear, and got back to the gym as quickly as I could. As I was walking through the lobby of the gym, the girl I had a crush on happened to be walking through at the exact same time. We talked for a few minutes, and I almost asked her out, but I am a huge sissy when it comes to asking out girls that I actually like, so I didn’t (I know, the ending is very anticlimactic, but it goes along with the theme). If I hadn’t forgotten my gym stuff, I would have already been in the pool swimming with absolutely no chance of running into her, the opportunity to ask her out would not have presented itself, and I would be able to live with the delusions I would ask her out if ever I randomly bumped into her out in public. Now, I can’t.