Category Archives: Family

My Mess Is My Home


Q: What’s messier right now — your bedroom or you computer’s desktop (or your favorite device’s home screen)? Tell us how and why it got to that state.

A: Don’t take this the wrong way, but messes are absolutely my thing. What can I say? That’s my element. My mess reflects me.

When I say mess, though, I don’t mean apple cores and year old pizza hiding in a corner with smelly socks and other absolutely disgusting things. That’s what I like to call BOY mess (though I don’t discriminate. Girls can absolutely have that kind of mess, too. I’ve seen it.). My mess is more of a cluttered confusion of books, papers, purses, shoes, a potato smasher (I don’t know how that got into my room. But it’s there.), NON-smelly socks, etc.

Some people, to relax, like to read.

Others have music.

And some like to-shudder-clean. If you are one of THOSE people, we cannot be friends. (Unless you’re willing to do my chores for me…In which case you’re forgiven.)

Me, I unwind best in a mess. I sleep better with my clothes strewn about on a chair. (of course I’ll pick them up…eventually.) I concentrate more easily if I have pillows and blankets piled clumsily around me. I prefer having my shoes in a pile in front of my bed. That’s just how I think.

But, of course, my room isn’t a COMPLETE mess or anything. Half of it is my sister’s side. And she’s about the cleanest and most organized person you’d ever meet. So…if you were to enter my room, you would encounter one spotless, pretty-looking, organized half, the half you entered through-we did that strategically-and one chaotic display of books, stuffed animals, crumpled up paper, and clothing.

My sister hates my messiness. She’s constantly harping me about it, and with good reason. I don’t seem to listen. I grudgingly clean it every 3 weeks or so on my mom’s command, and it takes about a week for it to get back to its original state. I swear, it’s not on purpose. It just…happens. But, ya know, I’m in no hurry to fix it. As I’ve said, my mess is my element. I relax there. I get some of my best writing done in that mess. Should I really change that?


The State Fair and Me


The fair has been in town this week, and you know what that means…


The last time I went to the fair was when I was maybe… nine? Then, everything looked so “huge and amazing and cool and awesome andWhyWouldAKidEverLeaveTheFairItsSOOOOOOMuchFun!!!!!!!”

Yeah…I think I must’ve had a bit too much cotton candy that day years ago, because my memories of the fair are nothing like what I saw today.

When I was nine, the rides at the fair were these amazing huge-sized adventures that I just couldn’t wait to get onto, so I rode pretty much every ride that I could. But when I went to the fair today… I rode ONE ride, and that was mostly for the sake of nostalgia, because that was my and my sister’s favorite ride as kids. Most of them just looked dirty and shaky and pretty unreliable. But, just between you and me, I’m going back tomorrow morning- when less people will be there to see me- so I can ride more of them. (Hey! I got a free unlimited ride pass! It’d be a shame to waste it!) Assuming I don’t die, I’ll probably talk more about the fair (and the rides specifically)next week.

Oh, and the games. You “win” every time! Yeah, pay five bucks to shoot a dart at a balloon and you can win a stuffed animal that you wouldn’t pay a dollar for at walmart!

But I absolutely CANNOT bash the fried “on-a-stick” things. Yes, there ARE ridiculous things that are fried or on a stick. (One year, they actually had FRIED BUTTER on a stick at the fair.) And most of them I wouldn’t eat if my life depended on it. (Because I’d probably die either way) But I have to say, and laugh if you will, but I’m dead serious…I’d eat this; Fried, chocolate dipped cheesecake on a stick.

I’d like to end this post on a wonderful, delicious note so I’ll say one last thing about the fair, one thing that you cannot deny is amazing, and is probably the main reason I go to the fair:

Funnel cake.

Just…funnel cake.

That is all.


What Does Sasha Think?


I have a vial of truth serum. (Do not ask why or how; I cannot tell you unless you are okay with me killing you.) What am I supposed to do with it? I went to all of the trouble of attacking the guards and infiltrating the systems of-shoot. I’ve said too much.

Anyway, my point is, I went to a lot of trouble to get it. But why?

The answer is quite simple, really. To ask my dog what she really thinks of me.

Now, this is (of course) assuming that the truth serum would, in addition to revealing the true thoughts in a person’s head, allow any non-human recipients to have the ability to speak. Or at least give me a transcript or something. I mean, of what use would it REALLY be, if it didn’t? It’s not like any sane person would allow you to give them truth serum. For all they know, YOU were lying and you aren’t just going to ask them about their true, deep feelings for you. NO, you’re planning on finding out who REALLY ate your Twinkie last week!

Moving on..

I am very insecure when it comes to my puppy, and while I know she loves me, I want to know what she’s thinking when she walks into my room and begins talking* to me. I want to know what’s going on in her mind when she’s been cuddling next to me for an hour while I read, and all of a sudden, without any movement from me or her beforehand, she gets up and switches to my sister’s bed.

Because all I’m feeling then is the sting of total cold-hearted rejection.

I want to know what causes her to jump up and bark at the wall for NO reason whatsoever.

What does my Sasha REALLY think of me?

For all I know, she really hates me and it’s all just a hoax to get more treats off of me! I feel like such a chump…

I swear, the truth WILL be made known.


*Dog owners: You know what I mean by “talking”. The short, loud growl meant exclusively to make you look at your puppy. Our Sasha also likes to repeat the one word she’s been able to learn to “speak”: Mom (because whenever that word is said in our house, a response is given immediately) over and over again between growls.

Siblings- Who Needs ‘Em?


I am an evil, coldhearted person.

Or, at least, I would be. If I actually agreed with this post’s title. Confession time: There have been times, though, during some of the countless shouting matches my siblings and I have hosted, when I’ve thought or said that(and worse things)…and meant it. At the time.

Let’s get one thing straight: If you have siblings, you HAVE argued with them at some point. I don’t care WHO you are, you simply cannot argue the contrary.

Some of those arguments are because of the silliest things, though, aren’t they?

For example: The other day, I was in the living room reading, my sister on the couch petting the dog, and my brother playing video games on the floor below me, when suddenly some annoying sound started to bug me and I just could not focus on my book. I looked up, ticked, to see what it was, and realized that it was my brother breathing. Yes, you heard me correctly. I was annoyed by my brother’s breathing. Ya know, that thing you do, converting carbon dioxide to oxygen in order to provide life-giving air to SURVIVE. Yup, I was irritated by my brother’s version of that. So I did the only logical thing one can do in that situation. I told him to stop. (All right, all together now, ladies and gentlemen, one… two… three… FACE. PALM) I won’t even continue that story, because it only gets dumber from there.

Another example: This morning, when I picked up one of those giant air-filled balls that they keep in a giant net at Wal-Mart off of our floor and started tossing it at the wall, only to get it knocked out of my hand and then thrown at my head by my brother. This, of course, started a not-so-friendly throwing war for the next five minutes. I swear, had we had any lamps in that room, they would’ve been broken.

There was also the time, a few years ago, when my sister (whose chore is doing the laundry)put a sock that wasn’t mine on my bed, and I tossed it back, saying so. She disagreed, but after a short argument she took it, and that night I found it under my pillow. I could’ve just given it to my mother, because I think that’s whose it was. But then what, in my childish mind, would I have proven? And so the silent war between my sister and I started, where every other night or so for a few months one of us found this mystery sock somewhere in our things. Sometimes it was somewhere obvious like in the pillowcase, but sometimes it was hidden in a book or something, and then it took a few days to find it. Just long enough for the enemy side to think the war was over, that the opponent had retreated. One day, I actually found it tacked to the shower wall. Oh, the things we do.
To this day, I have no idea what happened to that sock. It must have gotten lost in translation.

These things are just a sample of the dumb arguments my siblings and I get into. (And really, you should be glad you don’t have to hear the others…It gets pretty stupid.)

Isn’t it funny, though, how you can be angry as ever at siblings one minute, and the next be laughing together at absolutely nothing? Don’t tell them this, but I really do love my brother and sister. Without them, I’d have nobody to practice debate with. I wouldn’t have someone to stay up till 2 AM chatting with. I wouldn’t have somebody to teach me how to play Halo and all those other video games. (And to give my character a good smack in the face when I screw up for the whole team.) Without my siblings, I wouldn’t be the writer I am today.

Who needs siblings? I do.
What about you? What are some of the stupidest arguments you’ve gotten into with siblings, parents, spouses, or any family members, really? Think about that for a second. Comment it, if you want. Maybe write a post about it. (If you do, comment a link. I’d seriously love to hear that I’m not the only one who gets into those dumb arguments…)