awkward

truth....

and awkward.  

yup, I admit I am, and always have been. 

I crack myself up....

I attempt things I have no business attempting....

I overthink....

I'm often at a loss at how to properly interact (although I will always try, and usually fail miserably).

Considered outgoing by friends but always in pure panic mode when out, which tends to accentuate the awkward....

Communication with me is often misinterpreted...even in text...and it makes people frustrated...

I fall down, whoops....

every picture of me, looks like I'm grimacing 

My friends spend a lot of time correcting my manners and shaking their heads....

I am used to it.

but others....

not so much.

14 Things You Should Know Before You Date  Hang Out with Someone Who’s Actually Awkward

click that link above...

(I believe they wrote that about me)

but I am fun...and funny.

I have touched on this story before....

A few years ago I was required to go to a Keith Urban thing.

One of those things I am not excited about, and actually become mortified, because :

1. backstage /green room is not as cool as people think it is ( believe me)

2. I am always stuck waiting like a groupie while the intermingling is going on...and I hate groupies...

plus they always look at me like "why are you here?"

3. for some reason there are ALWAYS posed, stupid pictures required.

We arrived a bit late with poor instructions as to how to get to Mr. Urban.  On the drive there, I was VERY clear on my rules....I will participate and be polite, I will attempt not to talk and say stupid shit accidentally, and under NO circumstances am I going to take a picture in that room.   I don't like Keith Urban and I hate pictures....is this understood?  seriously, no pictures....I will get up and walk out if you do that to me.  You know I will....

"stop being so ....you...It's fine...no pictures then.  Olive and I will take a picture"

fine

"fine"

We finally walk the length of what seemed to be 18 football fields and pass a group of giggling, chunky, cowgirls with bedazzled jeans and pink boots. As I stomped past the line of people waiting to get in, and followed B, who looked as if he was where he was supposed to be, the girls gave me the once over and a glare....

B stepped in front and looked in the gate and said..." well I guess we are too late"

Good ...I looked down at my bracelet and noticed it had a different mark on it than all the groupies.

I showed it to B and said, " hey...does this mean we are too old to stand in this line?" and I flashed it at the girl in the front....

she glared and said,

"Keith is done signing autographs"

"praise the lord", I said 

....let's go get a beer...and funnel cake.

B, looked through the gate and then at me and Olive and said...

"Its fine....let's go."

Walking off, I heard the girls giggling...." like they have some special pass, pfhhht "

We weren't 50 feet from the gate. and almost free as far as I could tell, when a guy , the guy who 4 minutes before slammed the gate and said "NO MORE", came ripping up behind us yelling , Mr. Smith!!! Mr. Smith!!! 

Keith is waiting for you!!!!   why didn't you say something?

(damnit....does Mr Urban have beer?)

B...no fucking pictures.  you promised....

We were escorted back to the front, through the large huddle of young women, and through the gate.  I flashed my bracelet at the girl in the front,

"Old people rule..."

she glared.

As usual, we were led to the room with fruit, water, snacks and comfy couches.  No groupies...just a few recording industry people and a body guard.  I stayed back because I knew exactly what was about to happen.  Keith looked over and came right up to B and shook his hand

"man, I almost missed ya"

they talked guitars and gear....he thanked B for the custom guitar he built for him.... "I love it , man.... I play it all the time"

Olive and I poked around the snack table...some person handing us water...offering fancy fruit....and a seat.

I whispered to the person, "where's the beer"

"He's clean" she whispered back ...."sober"....

I grimaced...Oh yeah, I said to her..".I saw that on TMZ"

she grimaced back.  

oops , awkward.

Before I had a minute to think straight I felt a hand on my back ....

"Hey Love, come on over here and lets get a snap"

??

I turned around and there he was ....

Handsome, short, and repeating himself....

"Let's get a snap"

nope....

I glare at B...then at Olive....who is smiling.

He turns to her and says, get your mom...lets get a nice snap.

I hate you....

not only am I grimacing....my shirt is see through.

mortifyingly awkward

"come on Mom...."

He put his arm around me and I leaned in, and for some reason took a deep smell of him...

loudly , but accidentally.

He smelled of pine trees and earth....and maybe Gain detergent....

I pictured Nicole Kidman doing his laundry and hanging it on the line in beautiful Australia....or Nashville....

Then Olive leans forward and says 

"Did you just Sniff Keith Urban?"

Why yes, yes I did....

*snap.*

I hate this picture more than anything.

ANYTHING....

my friends on social media think it is hysterical and every year for the past 3 years whenever this pops up on anyones social memories...

they post it.

"most awkward photo ever"

Just a tiny piece of my life.

there are many more ....

so, even though sometimes I may seem nuts....

I'm not really

just awkward...

and after the fact, it brings many people comedic relief.

makes people feel better about them selves when they hang out with me

Maybe this is why so many of my friends stick around or my old loves continue to never really leave, regardless of saying "I just can't"

I'm entertaining...

Unpredictably predictable 

awkward.

xo,

write ya later,

m

don't wear black to a photo shoot

and I am 

un-replaceable....

The Bed

"in death, the bed is the very center of life"

~~~~~~Augusten Burroughs

The Bed.

To some: refuge, safety, revitalization.

To others a form of torture.

Profoundly enough, the bed is one of the most basic staples of life.

Through out life the bed holds the secrets of many things.  

As a teen my bed was a haven, a haven where my girlfriends and I talked, laughed, planned and  laid next to each other whispering about the day; secrets which were sworn to never leave the room. The bed was a fortress of safety and future endeavors.

Even at 19, I knew a bed was a necessity. A true sign of adulthood, regardless of how adult I felt, I was never above taking someone's used mattress as my own.  Nothing a new set of used sheets wouldn't fix. In my 20's in Atlanta I had an old hospital bed, which I adored. Metal frame, rickety, and I spray painted it white myself....covering up the history carried from the old Atlanta mental ward. Now, it would be considered "Shabby Chic" but then....it was not only amazing, but so perfectly me....it fit me, and me only. 

Scarves and old rosaries dangled from the metal headboard and footboard. The bed was mine. I found it , coveted it, and it brought me great nights of sleep.  

As I began to date, I was always amazed how many young men did not have a bed.  A mattress on the floor was often the case, and for me.... a no go. Bunk Beds?  OK, at least it is off the floor, But a couch? no.  

The Bed....

One needs a Bed

for fucking, learning, possibly sleeping, but mostly fucking.... 

A safety spot, a refuge, a personal womb.

As of date I have had many beds and bed frames, but have yet to acquire the safety my little metal bed, which was mine alone, brought me.

Sleep is not encouraged by my current bed, nor safety. I cannot figure it out.

My bed looks as if it should foster everything one needs to dream and rejuvenate the soul. 

expensive sheets, heated blankets, multiple pillows, light, darkness, comforters and even up and down controls.

but sleep doesn't come.

I recently met a person who swore by the bed they had.  

The Perfect Bed.

The Bed You Never Left

The Bed Which Allowed Sleep for Days.

A mystical unicorn of beds.

 When I finally was invited to look at this bed I became a believer of the respite a bed can bring.... even though I have yet to experience, as an adult, a bed as such.

This bed was soft, it was cozy, it was perfect size, it was warm, the pillows were soft and the bed purred the lucky recipient into a perfect REM dream sleep.

perfect size for one to two or three....

whatever the fancy.

music, darkness, and the perfect airflow.

Unicorn Bed

Through life:

We start in a tiny bed ....

everything we need and want, right outside baby reach

In our middle life the bed is where we connect, make love and find our hearts and dreams...

and as we lay dying:

the bed we are in becomes all we know.

It becomes our last connection to life.

people visit, memories pass, and eternal sleep ensues.

The Bed.

write ya later,

xo,

m

dude...you win (dedicated to Nurse John)

For some reason....it just seemed funny to me

yeah...

you go brother....

eat that cake...or ..whatever it is you Walmarter's eat