Goodbye, S

I said goodbye to my friend a few days ago. Not just my friend, my long-distance best friend. The type of friend who would be gone for months but once they’re back, it’s like no time had passed.

Let’s be real here, no one likes to say goodbye.

Let’s go back to the last time I saw her–let’s just call her S to keep it simple.

I think I had made it perfectly clear over the past few months just how infatuated I was with S. I even confessed my love of S to my boyfriend, Mr Carter.

Jealousy wasn’t an issue, not to my knowledge anyway.

When S comes to town, my world stops. And I can’t help but be dramatic when I talk about her.

Mr Carter took me on a trip to celebrate S.

See? No jealousy at all.

Honestly, it was the first time I had really seen S this year. To say I was excited would be completely underrated–I was like Sonic the Hedgehog after someone pressed the <down> and <A> buttons a few times.

Road trip with Mr Carter
Driving to Crystal Springs Water Park, NJ

We made it to the water park in record time for Labor Day. I guess I felt the world would be as excited as I was, how silly right?

The line seemed more congested than the entire NJ Turnpike had been that day. I had a mission, I didn’t get frustrated.

I waited, patiently.

The time had come. It was going to be an epic moment. I stuffed our shoes in the locker and we were off.

Finally. I inhaled the warm sun and exhaled the past months of endless studying, and stressing over accounting tests. I mean, damn, S was finally before me.

The day was perfect. Me, my man, and my best friend who would be leaving shortly.

We swam, we ate, we laughed, we had the time of our lives. Until I heard that awful announcement:

“Attention all Crystal Springs guests–the time is now, 6:30. The park will be closing at 7:00 for the last time of the year.”

By this time, we were floating along the lazy river. We had gotten lost in the endless twists and turns. I watched as the workers deflated the plastic rings and couldn’t help but cry. I didn’t expect the day to end so suddenly. Luckily the water was there to catch my tears.

It was over.

We left the park.

We left S.

I kept the key to the locker as a souvenir of my best friend. I will miss you, Summer. It’s always a beautiful time when you come visit.

Until next time,

SamWriteNow & Mr Carter

The Fitting Room

I had no intentions of walking into that ratchet store. Even in my high school years it was quite the struggle to slip their brand’s dungarees up and over my fat hips. I must admit, I was surprisingly optimistic that afternoon; it’s probably what motivated me to strut inside that store. With rose gold Beats covering my ears, I was able to walk past the obnoxious chatter of knucklehead kids running around.

I used to be a mall rat, hanging out in the three wings with my other ratty friends, with nothing better to do after school–growing up, it was the only free thing to do on the island. Well now as an adult, I learned to keep my music as a distraction.

I had just picked up some bourbon chicken and mac-n-cheese from my favorite Cajun spot in the food court when I came across the store. I thought back to the insane amount of bomber jackets I had bought from there when I was in high school. I must have had every color imaginable to match my outfits perfectly. I stood by the escalator and grew curious–what does it look like now? With my weight changing over the years, I wondered if their jeans had an attitude adjustment and maybe we could finally be friends.

The store was overcrowded just as I had remembered: circular clothes racks squeezed up against each other, jumbo sized displays barely visible between the clutter, and customers attempting to slide through the mess. A young guy tried to sell me on a pair of mustard ripped jeans but my focus was on the overly patterned black and white ones immediately to the right of them. (I missed out on this trend because of my obscene thighs.)

I smiled politely when he offered me the size 4’s, laughed a little harder when he remained serious, and finally began schlepping through the stack for a size 13 or 15. I settled on trying the 11’s. He asked to hold my Cajun food while I went to the fitting room and I giggled–Like I was really going to set up dinner on the wooden bench behind barnyard doors.

I handed over the plastic bag and scurried to my fitting room.

My reflection smiled back as I ripped my sweatpants off. Eventually, I found the courage to slide one leg into the 11’s and grew far too excited when the pants kept sliding up without interruption. Okay, I’ll say it, I was excessively thrilled, to say the least. There I was, one leg in, my slight gut exposed, laughing at the stunned look across my face, and I couldn’t help but think about how weird it would have been to have the lingering scent of bourbon chicken in the tiny room during my euphoric moment.

It wasn’t until I slipped my other leg inside the dark denim that my cheerful demeanor had evaporated. For once, it wasn’t my problematic thick thighs holding me back from popular fashion, it was my big butt.

I stood there, unaccomplished and frazzled, remembering back to my mother’s life lesson: the cowboy move. It’s when you grab at the back belt loops and pull with every ounce of will, while wiggling uncontrollably with a certain rhythm like you’re preparing to rope-up some cattle. It’s pretty effective when the pants are your size. On this particular day, in the tiny fitting room, the odds were not in my favor. I heard a sharp POP and just like that the magic escaped.

To say I panicked would be an understatement. I thought quickly, perhaps too quickly, and peeled them off before throwing my sweats on. I folded them in a way that my wardrobe malfunction wasn’t noticeable and collected what was left of my dignity before opening the door. I found the stack of surviving pants and stuffed my tortured jeans between them. Hoping to make an easy escape, I maneuvered toward the front.

My food!

I turned back, meeting the face of the sales guy. Panic bounced throughout my body and I had to explain how they didn’t fit. I asked for my Cajun food, he asked me to try on a different pair, we went back and forth a few times, I took my lunch and fled for the escalator. There was no way my bulky bottom was going to relive that moment again.

Lesson: The odds were still completely against me.

Car Karaoke

So, my dad bought me a Christmas gift and it served an interesting purpose. A rearview mirror that has a camera attached, a clear video shown on the mirror itself, a 32GB memory card and a USB stick to upload the video on the computer. I was confused but after he set the entire device up in my truck I saw the video and the swivel camera that sat below the mirror. He continued to throw out words like “accident” and “if you get pulled over” and I sat there while some pretty cool ideas filled my head. All I could think of was my blog. I said, “this is perfect!” And it was.

I picked up my niece Savannah, (also goes by Little, Girl, and Savalavadingdong. I will refer to her as one of these names throughout my blog.) I couldn’t wait to test out this snazzy gadget for the first time. Knowing how passionate she is about singing and being in the limelight, I knew she would be amazed just as I was.

It’s time to finally meet my talented singer, writer, and overly-dramatic little. My Savalavadingdong. I hope you enjoy our car duet and please don’t mind the date at the bottom. It was recorded Saturday, February 10th, 2018 but I don’t know how to change that setting just yet. I should’ve read the instructions like my dad had said over, and over… and over.

“Why watch later, when you can watch SAMWRITENOW?”

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This world is too beautiful to sit back and not look.

I try to enjoy the world I live in as best I can. From the colorful sunsets, to the rhythmic ocean waves, this world is beautiful. The ocean has always been a safe place for me to feel my best and I try to go to the beach as much as I possibly can. There’s something about the breeze, swirling the smell of sun-tan lotion and sea-salt around while the water sways back and forth, back and forth, in a rhythm that can never be duplicated. It’s perfect.

The stars have always fascinated me, all spread out across the sky like glistening lights. And when the moon sits close enough to nearly grab, I get such a rush of emotions. Yeah, I’m sensitive to nature and energies, I am a Cancer. It’s not a bad thing. I guess I just love the feeling of having a place of my own, while I share this huge world with way too many people. When I look up to the sky or out across the ocean, I am lost within something so vast, but at the same time I feel safe. It’s magical.

Introduce and re-introduce yourself to the beautiful world that surrounds you.