Don’t look down

The thing about flying, is you don’t realize how high you are, until you look down  



Turn the Page

Here we are 8 days into a new year, a fresh start, a new page for some, possibly a chapter for others.  This year has started off well for me.  I haven’t been to the gym as often as I’ve wanted, but tomorrow is another day.  Small goals, seriously, think small.  No soda or fast food thus far in the new year, and I intend to keep it that way.  I am a soda free kid most days but the last month of 2015 I was like all the soda belongs to Amber…okay not really but I still consumed way too much (by way too much I mean maybe like 6 sodas in December) and the fast food thing, was the same way.  It’s hard for me to just cook for myself but I am learning.

The first weekend of the new year, I took off to celebrate my Mamaw’s Birthday.  I know it was hard enough for her without her Mom and Papal, this would be her first Birthday in more than 52/53 years without him.  She cried a lot, but I think it was a bit easier for her with us all around.

New Years day, we went to the cemetery and picked up all of the Christmas trees.  We are pretty blessed to have most of the family at the same cemetery, including my grandparents on my dads side.  After that, we had our traditional meal of cabbage, for money in the new year and black eyed peas, for luck in the new year, and it was just really nice being with everyone.

The next day, we went to Louisiana because we had a free room, we shopped a bit, gambled a bit, spent the night and the next day traveled to Port Arthur, Texas where my Mamaw was born.  She has been talking about going, and showing us where her grandparents lived, and just sharing memories with us.  We found one of her grandparents houses still in tact,  

and the other, just the lot was left.   

 She really enjoyed being able to see the house and I’m glad we were able to share that with her.  We had been talking about going for awhile, not only so Mamaw could show us her roots, but also because I love Janis Joplin’s music, and incidently she was from Port Arthur.  We went to the Museum of the Gulf Coast to see her exhibit.  It was definitely worth checking out, and I’m so glad after all these years I finally got to see it!  Her music reminds me of riding in the truck with my dad, before he went blind.  He loved playing Me and Bobby McGee and I absolutely hated it.  Now its a memory I cherish forever and her voice grew on me over the years.  I actually picked up a brick at the museum that was a part of her childhood home.   

 I am super geeked out about that as I am a huge fan.  I emailed the director of the museum today to send me a letter of authenticity, they give you one at purchase but supposedly there is another one that is a bit neater.  I plan to frame both and put the brick in a shadowbox and display it once the house is done being remodeled.


It’s time for a change.  I need to get better at my writing, kind of take it a bit more seriously, and also possibly find a better job choice.  I kind of feel like my eyes were opened today, to the dead end I’ve been at for awhile.  It’s time to move on, its actually way past that time.


“Oh, yeah I’m scared.  I think, oh, it’s so close, can I make it?  If I fail, I’ll fail in front of the whole world.  If I miss, I’ll never have a second chance on nothing.  But, I gotta risk it.  I never hold back, man.  I’m always on the outer edge of probability.”  -Janis Joplin

My best friend is Mia and I don’t know how to take that…

So, I know where he is but I hadn’t talked to him in a few days and it freaked me out a bit…not going to lie.  Spoke to his mom, via text and he’s okay I actually got put on a list to talk to him and I feel better now.  He sounds rested.  Yikes.  This month has been amazing I did 22 days In a row at the gym, 3 days off because of the early closing due to holidays and I’ll be back at it tomorrow.  I’m so thankful for family and friends to celebrate with.  

There’s something wrong with the world today.

Another mass shooting hits the news, and I sit here in shock yet again.  Why do people think its okay to kill each other?  When did the value of human life cease to exist?  I’m going to be one of those people that blames these shootings on video games, and broadcasted violence in general.  When we see so much violence in everyday settings, it desensitizes us from the  horrifying realness that it actually is.  My abusive ex, spent hours, days even, straight literally playing all day not even stopping for sleep.  These violent shooting games, and movies, and even the news, tells the world hey, it’s alright if you kill people its not like human life matters anyway.  But, the thing is, dying on a video game, or killing someone on a video game is a lot different than killing someone in real life, and in the case of people that don’t see the difference, when they finally do, it could be and usually is too late.  It is my belief that this violence triggers people, not all people but, a certain type of person could be triggered by this.  In the case of the aforementioned asshat, I know for a fact that it triggered him.  There’s so much violence in this world, just look at stories about road rage even.  So I get cut off by someone and if I honk at them I could end up dead?  Are you kidding me?  Now I’m not preaching anything like hey lets ban all violent video games, and I’m not standing on a soap box saying my beliefs are right, but I guarantee you there is some validity in what I believe to be true.  All this broadcasted violence, can trigger a certain person to act a certain way.  Children should grow up with parents that give attention to them, that have interaction with them, not babysat for hours by a video game console.  I know what you’re thinking, this girl is probably some sort of yuppie, probably wants to ban all violence in media, and in turn ban guns.  Well no, I’m a proud gun owner myself, but I know the difference between having one for my own use, and bringing my gun into society and hurting innocent people.  Our world is so full of violence, and I think a lot of it has to deal with the way we as a society just shrug our shoulders to what is going on.  I own a gun, but I own one for my protection only.  I’m a girl, I live alone and I have no desire to ever use my gun on another person but if it comes down to it, I will not hesitate to protect my self.  But thats the thing, I have that on/off switch that tells me yes, it’s okay to protect myself, but no its not okay to hurt dozens of innocent people.  I don’t watch the news, its too much, just horror after horror at this time I don’t know who the shooter/shooters were, I don’t know what their motives were, but I do know that this is not okay.  This world is getting worse and worse, we should learn how to resolve our problems without the loss of each others lives.

Who am I?

Who are you?  I’ve hated this question ever since I can remember.  The school year would begin, and every single teacher would go around the room and tell you to introduce yourself to the class.  How does one “introduce” themselves to the class?  “Tell everyone who you are,”  Who I am?  How can I answer that question if I don’t even understand it?  Who am I?  I’d usually start with, “I’m Amber,” which yes that’s true in the sense that that is my name, I am called that however, I did not choose to be “Amber,”  it was a name given to me at birth by my parents so they had a name to call me.  Amber is not who I am, it is how most people address me.  So the question arises still, who am I? I’m 29 at the moment.  I’m both as old as I could ever be, given my last breath came tomorrow, and I’m as young as I’ll ever be going forward, because I keep going forward.  Time stops for no one, especially me.  But, age is nothing but a number, still not fully answering our who am I question.  I’m a female, that’s my gender, but again, I didn’t necessarily choose to be a female, it was my gender assigned at birth.  No, I don’t plan on changing my gender, but being that it was chosen for me, that still doesn’t help with the question at hand all that being female answers to our audience, is what bathroom door I open when its time to see a man about a horse.  I can be described as funny, but funny is just an adjective about how I may act, or be perceived, still I ask you, who am I?  I’m a human, Christian, American, Hispanic, Czech, all traits that were basically decided for me, before I was even around, except for the Christian part, that I was introduced to but ultimately decided for myself.  All these things describe me, but none of them tell me who I am, in my opinion.  I am a being, of a nationality, here on this planet, pondering how to answer the question of Who am I.

A work in progress about my Granny

My great grandma was one of the strongest women I’ve known.  During the war, she worked in a machine shop until the war ended.  She was laid off so the “boys” would have a job when they came home.  I think she really could have been the original Rosie the Riveter  She worked her tail off her entire life.  I think about her often, there isn’t a day that passes where I don’t miss her.  I hope one day to be half the woman she was…


She rises before dawn, puts the coffee on and catches up on the news.  Though her face is full of wrinkles and her hair grey with time, her beauty and strength still radiate through her.  Her body, still strong enough to rise early and do all the work she considers her daily living.  She puts her robe on over her night gown slips on her slippers and heads outside to get the paper at the end of the driveway.  She comes back inside and sips coffee while reading the paper.  What a world this is, compared to when she was younger.  Stories of murder, burglaries and various other crimes litter the paper she reads.  She grew up in a world where there was no lock on her door.  Now, she arms her alarm every night and can be seen as a target both because she’s a woman living alone, and because of her age.  What happened to the good ole days?  Tired of reading all of the bad news,  she ventures to the kitchen where she starts breakfast.  She pulls a big slab of bacon out of the fridge, as well as two farm fresh eggs she picked up last night from her chickens.  Even though she’s a city gal now, her heart and self will always be country.  She gets busy frying bacon and cracks the eggs to fry in the bacon grease, takes the toaster out of the cabinet and toasts some bread.  The shells of the eggs go in the compost bucket she leaves on the stove, not the trash.  Not only does she have a compost pile, she also has a goat in the backyard.  Whatever he doesn’t take care of, gets put right back into the Earth.  She came from a large family, three boys and 3 girls, they were poor but her and her siblings didn’t know that.  They found a use for everything, Momma would make the girls dresses out of the flour sacks, and there was always food on the table.  Her parents sacrificed everything for those kids, she didn’t grow up in a world where material items were valued more than necessities.  Her breakfast on the table, three drinks next to the plate full of food, one cup consisted of her orange juice (tang) the other was her fiber, she mixed and drank this every morning, and finally her 2nd or 3rd cup of coffee.  A big breakfast for a big day ahead of her.