Morning Routine

Alarm
Let go.
Pee.
Brush Teeth.
Check on Evie
Let go.
Start coffee.
Look outside.
Start shower.
Undress
Let go.
Wash hair.
Condition hair.
Let go.
Wash.
Let go.
Stand in the warmth of the water with eyes closed.
Let go.
Turn off water.
Step out.
Make a cup of coffee.
Let go.
Turn on TV to VH1.
Put on lotion.
Let go.
Get dressed.
Brush hair.
Let go.
Blow dry hair.
Let go.
Straighten hair.
Let go.
Refill coffee.
Sit on front porch and listen to the traffic.
Let go.
Check on Evelyn.
Let go.
Let go.
Put on make up.
Inspect appearance.
Let go.
Turn off TV.
Let Go.
Put on shoes.
Let Go.
Grab keys.
Let go.
Let go.
Start car.
Reverse.
Breathe
Forget.

A Feeling I Need.

I remember how it felt when I sat behind the wheel of Rick's Exterra in Georgia and realized the smiling soldier was him.

Fear. Anxiety.  Love.  Excitement. My heart literally melting at the joy in his eyes. I've never felt so proud and so appreciated because of the relief across his face.

I remember the feeling... but I can't imitate it. And these days, I wish I would have let it linger longer or bottled it up so I could feel it now.

I need that feeling now.

My Go-To Song for the Morning

Wicked - Elphaba (Idina Menzel) - I'm not that girl

Light smile, light limbs, she is winsome, she wins him.

Gold hair with a gentle curl.

That's the girl he chose, and heaven knows...

I'm not that girl.

Scotton vrs. Rice... The Great Debate of 2011

While at work last night one of the hosts accidentally called me Amanda. "Sorry Kirby." She laughed. Leia, the other host standing at the front chuckled and said, "I'm just going to start calling her Scotton," and she proceeded to continue to say Scotton over and over again with a bad Scottish accent.

I chuckled and said, "yeah... don't do that. That's my ex's last name."

"Oh." She apologized. "You should probably change that."

For a few months now I've had friends asking me whether I'm going to keep the last name Scotton, or change it back to Rice, my maiden name, once the divorce is finale between Rick and me. All of my friends have their own opinions, circling mostly around me changing it and even going to as extreme measures as changing Evelyn's.

I have no intentions of changing her last name. But I don't know which I am more uncomfortable with:

having a last name that is different than my daughter's

or

continuing to keep the last name of a man I am no longer attached to. The name I no longer belong too.

I'm sure Rick has his own opinions on it. I can picture both an indifferent reaction and an appalled reaction at the thought of me keeping it. The Scotton family is such a strong and exclusive family. They take their name extremely serious. I don't know how any of them would feel about me changing it back, or keeping it. I could see how both would seem offensive.

So in a moment like this I need to remind myself I need to stop thinking about everyone else. I need to decide based on what I want. I need to make the decision based on what I am going to be the most comfortable with. No one is going to look out for my best interest in any of this other than me.

And I know I have time to decide. There are still 9 weeks before I can formally file for divorce. I  will just have to make up my mind by then.

180 Degrees...

For as long as I can remember I have always felt like that girl, the one in the box watching as life passed her by.

It's strange to suddenly feel like you're outside of the box... looking at all of the people in.

Stolen...

What are our reasons to stay alive
random tasks or nine to five
unprovable theories, facts, obsessions,
deep minutiae, shallow lessons
ironic humour with sporadic timing
acting dumb or occasionally miming
do what you would have done anyway
believe what you will then do as I say...

Lifehouse "Everything"

Someone Who Gets It.

"So here's to you social life (as I hold up an empty bottle toasting God who just shed his grace on me in the form of an infant son fast asleep) you used to mean a lot to me, but now? You've lost your luster. I will long for these days of social divide, where my friends separated from me just enough so that I could see how much being a Friday-Night-Nobody makes me the someone I've always wanted to be." 

-This Wise Mother, I could learn a lot from her-

Butterflies, Lightning Bugs and Crickets

A few days ago I read the Sex in the City quote, “Some people are settling down. Some people are settling. And some people refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies.” from a blog from Skirt!. The quote has lingered in my bones for the past few days now. I told the quote to Meredyth (my roommate) as we drove down Hwy. 321 the other night. She instantly fell in love with the bare boned honesty of it.

“So do you have butterflies?” She asked about my recent date. “Have you ever gotten butterflies?”

I thought carefully. “Twice.” I replied. “I’ve experienced them twice. Cameron and then with Rick. But, it took nearly 2 years for them to appear with Cameron. And months before I experienced them with Rick. I’ve never gotten them right away.”

In the flashes of memories I had at the thought of both relationships I began to wonder if my lack of butterflies was a bad thing. They normally come when I am feeling vulnerable and incapable of rational thought. They are that empty, sick feeling in the pit of your stomach when you spin and spin and spin, right before you tumble to the hard ground.

“Not even with…”

I cut her off before she could even say the name. “Nope.”

“Not once? Never?”

“No. Never. Well,” and I considered the question. “I guess with him it was a sort of, lightning bug?”

We both chuckled at the thought but now I am astonished by the accuracy behind my mocking analogy. With him it wasn’t like butterflies, it was more like bursts of electricity that would come and go so quickly my body would quake in the aftermath. It was cosmic and sudden and never anything shy of  a childlike chase.

But this has me wondering. Is accepting less than butterflies settling? Crickets? Lightning bugs? What is settling? In every relationship isn’t there one person who loves the other more? In every relationship I’ve ever had there has been a clear distinction between who was more invested. So is it considered settling when we are doing it as a form of protection?

I don’t wanna settle. I’ve never been one for such things but is it wrong for me to not want to risk getting hurt again such a terrible thing?

Food for thought.

Paging Sexy Librabrian.

So I think it's time I finally give into the truth.

I need glasses. After months of avoiding reading because I develop headaches after one chapter, or getting picked on for squinting all the time it has taken my new position with the newspaper for me to finally admit I need to get my eyes checked.

For the past week I have been squinting at the computer screen (pretty much like I am right now) or at papers as I read them. Martha, the sweet lady at the desk across from me, has noticed it. And upon ranting to Meredyth about it she has brought it to my attention that I squint when I drive, when I'm focusing on something, when I cook, ect.

And thus I must accept my fate. I'm getting older. My love of books, watching TV in dark rooms and all things computer generated has destroyed my vision. My mother was right, it will ruin your eyes.

So this week I am going to get my eyes examined and am fully prepared to accept my four-eyed fate.

At least I look like a hot librarian when I wear glasses.

Glee Cast - Get It Right (Glee Cast Version)

Glee - Faithfully

The only thing better.

Scene: 1 am. Foggy. A thick mist is lingering along the horizon. Location: backroad trail that has been cleared for a new development. There stands a boy with shaggy hair, a girl with her hands wrapped around her because of the chill in the air. Talking. Laughing. Discussing the scene as if it were paint on the canvas. He steps an inch closer, then away, then walks to the other side of her like a dance. Hesistant. Both laugh nervously. 

The only thing better than kissing on the first date is almost kissing on the first date.

anna nalick - wreck of the day (acoustic)

Liar Liar, Marriage out the Door

As most know, I transferred to a new restaurant about a month ago. It was a great move for me personally and financially. This past Monday I also began working a new, second, part-time job with my local News-Paper. I love working both of my jobs and the recent changes have allowed me some separation from my past.

But in this separation from the recent I have found myself almost lying about the past. Not big lies, not deep and detrimental ones but almost as if I am responding to people's curiosities and questions with the lies we tell ourselves.

"Are you married?"
"Seperated." --- (Truth)
"Oh, I'm sorry." 
"Don't be... it's a very civil divorce." --- (Kind of true.)
"It was a mutual thing." --- (Lie)
"We tried to make it work, and it just didn't work so it was best to end it before things got worse." ---(Depends on who you ask. )
""It's not that big of a deal." ---(LIE LIE LIE.)


Maybe it's just me trying to save face, to not be viewed as the sad, abandoned divorcee. I've obviously proven I'm anything but incapable. My bills are paid. My daughter is happy and healthy. I'm advancing myself in a field I think I can be really great in. I work hard. I have an amazing central circle of friends. I live on my own.

I'm doing well. (true)  I'm doing better than well, I'm doing great. (kind of true)

So then why does this all feel like I'm simply surviving. It's not as if I've had some terminal illness. Rick wasn't a cancer that needed to be removed from my body. (depends on who you ask) Is a failed relationship, a failed marriage really something you can "survive"?

I don't know to be honest. But there are so many things in life that I am uncertain of 24 hours a day.

I just have to get up every morning, make the coffee, brush my teeth and remind myself to breathe. It's a new day. (truth). It's always a new day.

Cary Brothers - Ride

Corinne Bailey Rae - Like A Star

Pandoras Box

In the top of my closet is a box. It's one of those firesafe lock boxes. I keep it there like any responsible parent would, full of papers and birth certificates and insurance cards. Just in case.

That's not all I keep in there though. I keep the remains of a point in my life when I was happy. I keep things that would kill me to lose.

Things like my engagement ring and wedding band. Things like my favorite picture of Rick and I taken at freedom park. Things like every letter he wrote to me while in basic.

Needless to say,  I avoid opening this box.

Today I received a phone call from the doctor needing some of the information off of Evelyn's insurance card. I quickly pulled down the black box, removing items so I could find the card. Once I hung up with the doctors office I began putting them back, piece by piece, like a puzzle of a life I was suppose to have.

The box of letters fell, opening and releasing sweet words. I only glanced over the three that fell out, all three ones that were never sent but placed in my hand upon Rick's return once he had decided to come home instead of staying in the Army.

Letters of fear and nervousness. Letters of love and adoration. Letters of excitement and eager anticipation for the future. Letters promising strength during the hard times, and loyalty. 

My heart broke. Not for the tender words from a man who loved me more than anything. Not for the pain of every broken promise. My heart broke with the realization that not only is that time gone, but so is the man who wrote them and the young girl who would run at the sound of the mail everyday.

And my heart is still breaking.

Sunday is mothers day. Last year Rick and I spent the day with our families and then he took me to dinner. This year I know I won't feel any love or appreciation on his part. However, I feel as if I should.

But when I get off work I know Evie will smile and squeal and wrap her tiny arms around me as if to say "Mommy, I love you. "

And that is what will ease the aching. That is what will ease the regret and disappointment. Because she was the point of all of this and she is more than worth every moment of it.

...Power...

I've been on a bit of a Fleetwood Mac kick the past few days. I've always loved their lyrics and the raw passion behind their music. Lovers won and relationships lost. Friendships broken and betrayals. It's all the allure of daytime TV soap operas without the unexplained resurrections and family feuds.

I don't know what it is about their music that balances me. Maybe it's because it reminds me of my Sophomore year of college when I roomed with a girl who sang in a Fleetwood Mac Tribute band. I spent the majority of that year locked in my room, writing, and falling in love for the first time.

Maybe it's because of how much Gene idolized Stevie Nicks. With her big black boots and curves she was a woman for me to look up to when I was younger. Strong. Proud. Independent. Self-aware. Talented. She is still someone to marvel at. I remember listening to her sultry voice on car rides when Gene would roll down the windows and stare out at the country side. I'd lean into the wind, letting it rip my hair violently as I imagined what it would be like to feel love and feel loss like that. Eagerly anticipating the battle wounds that would mark my adulthood.

In a lot of ways the title of this blog was inspired by Fleetwood Mac. Gypsy.

Strange how the strangest things can give you strength when you least expect it... but when you need it the most.


"Women, they will come and they will go. When the rain washes you clean you'll know."

Fleetwood Mac ~ Gypsy (Extended version)