The Man in Black, The Duke, and Loyal Case.

Over the last couple of years as I've gotten older, I'm really starting to think more and more about the people in my life; what they mean to me, and whether or not they know. This was the foundation of me kicking off the letter project which has grown into something more where virtual strangers are involved, which is amazing.

When I think back on my childhood and youth, my family was (and is) my core. My experiences as a child really influenced the person I am today, the values I have, and the family I hope to someday raise. There are some memories that stick out more than others, and my grandpa Case is one of them.

My mom and aunt will tell you that my grandpa looked like, walked like, and talked like John Wayne. And he did. But what seems to do it for me is a little Johnny Cash. His voice reminds me so much of him sometimes, and he was almost as handsome...almost.

The end of 2011 marked 15 years without him. And as unbelievable as that is for me to calculate and realize, I can still remember that man's voice like the back of my hand. I was 13 years old when he passed away; young - but old enough and fortunate enough to have a basket full of memories to cling onto. One of my favorite things to do is sit down and pick my mom's memory banquet and have her tell me stories about growing up with him. I've heard all kinds of stories about the hard-working, dedicated, stern, and intimidating man and father whose name to others was Loyal. As fun it is to hear those stories, that was not the man I knew. Intimidating, sure. To a small girl, he stood 12 feet tall and had a baritone voice bigger to me than anything I had ever heard.

The first time I touched a fishing pole was with my grandpa. I caught two fish, and almost fell in the lake like a true girl. My grandparents use to have a yellow camper that might as well have been the Barbie Glamour Camper. To me it was the coolest thing ever, and if we were ever able to meet them at the campground, well...my entire month was probably made.

Visiting my grandparents house as a small child, one of the first things I wanted to do was go in the back room and see him. I'd find him watching a Cubs game or listening to his police scanner and reading the paper. Other times I could find him in the garage working on a project where I wasn't allowed to touch or sit near anything sharp. Sometimes I found him sitting on the back stairs overlooking the backyard...and I'd just sit there with him. At some point within the first 30 minutes of being at their house, I would sneak into my grandma's cupboard where the goodies were and try to open it as quietly as I could. It never worked. He heard me every time, just sitting in his chair and would ever so lovingly say "GET OUT OF THERE YUM-YUM..."

...I walked away empty handed almost every time.

Why am I telling you all of these memories that hold no value to you? I don't know. I guess this is more of a reflection for me. I don't really know why he has such a strong mark in my life when I was just 13. I think about him often. I close my eyes a lot and try to put my Keds back on and place myself in his garage, or on the back porch with him. I try to remember the things he'd say and hear his strong voice. When my grandpa got sick and finally passed away, even at 13 I think I was in denial. I went through a period of days where it felt unreal. I played like normal. It just wasn't true. Once it finally made sense, after watching my mother suffer the loss of her father, it made me realize that I never wanted to be her in a moment like that. To this day, it is hard for me to walk into my grandparent's garage. The last time I was in there, I could still smell the sawdust from things he had made. His pencil was still sitting out. I'd like to keep it that way.

My grandma is still walking around town (literally, like a boss) and has to be one of the most influential people in my life, aside from my own mother. She's 80 years old, witty, hilarious, and dresses like a modern day golden girl. If I could be half of the woman that she or my mom is, I'd feel pretty damn good.
My letter project begins with her.

I often reflect on the choices I have made and my mind immediately goes to my grandpa. Would he be proud to know the woman that I am approaching 30? I hope so. I think it's safe to say that his memory pushes me to be a better person, and be true to myself. And maybe it's even a little bit that though he's up there kicking it with Jesus, I'm still a little afraid I'm going to hear his voice telling me to get out of the cupboard...

I'm lucky to say that at 28, I have a wonderful family and friends (old and new) who are healthy, happy, thriving human beings that inspire me every day. In 2012 my goal is to make sure they know it. Life is too short and smiles should happen more often.

...I gave you my heart and the very next day, you gave it away.

This one goes out to the one I love.

As the weather turns colder and the skies grow a heavier winter gray

You do the same.

I have kept you close;

My family. My dear friend. My rock. My piece of home away from home.
I do not pretend I have always been fair

But you have driven yourself mad with jealousy

The anger you feel cannot be soothed

Cannot be turned from the fiction you create to what is real truth

The tears flow heavy and dry out in my sleep

And I’ll clench my pillow and wake up from this dream

The love I feel for who you are has always outweighed the deep fear I feel for who you can be

An endless cycle that keeps on turning

Through ups and downs/sickness and health/head rubs and back rubs/belly laughs and tears

One that has been at your side deserves no such rage

And her voice has been taken away

My love - It will go on forever for you

But my tolerance ends here

Kim & Jessie had a secret world in the twilight.
But it’s gone dark.

Merry Christmas.

Your keys are under my tree
Just don’t take the one thing I love most away from me.

This year to save me from tears, I’ll give it to someone special.

We All Have a Type...

A young lady I use to know mentioned this today.

There are several types of love.

1. The can't live without you kind
2. The don't wanna live without you kind
3. The don't want anyone else to have you kind
4. And the I don't think anyone else will want me kind

 

 

Fa-La-La-Lolla-pa-loo-za

So my 3-day Lolla adventure came to a close on a movie-like muddy and rainy Sunday night. This was my first year going all three days and though it was balmy, hot, wet, and left me completely exhausted, I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Friday night I shook my money-maker with friends at Girl Talk in Perry's Tent. It was nothing but a shoulder to shoulder crowded mess of people dancing and singing in sweat and heat. Amazing.

 This night ended on a walk to get out of the crowd with nearly 60,000 people filling in the streets.

Saturday began with one of my favorites - Phantogram. I saw them previously at Lincoln Hall earlier this year with a live drummer and it's since been one of my favorite live shows. Also on Saturday was Mayer Hawthorne, Fitz and the Tantrums, Local Natives (yay!), Death From Above, Ellie Goulding, and My Morning Jacket.

Sunday - though the line-up wasn't quite as exciting, was by far my favorite day of the festival. Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. stole the day early on with a great set. We Almost Lost Detroit & their cover of Higher Love stole the crowd's heart. This was immediately followed by a quick peek at The Cars and then we moved it back to Perry's for some Dubstep dancing.

 

Then...the pouring rain came.
Not a dry shirt in the festival.
Fields filled with mud.
People running around barefoot.
My boots filled with water.

 Then the rain stopped. We started to dry out.
Arctic Monkies.
Explosions in the Sky.
Foo Fighters.

The sky turned an angry and gorgeous brown, and before we had time to think "looks like rain..." it started pouring again.

An so it was like I said: my 3-day Lolla adventure came to a close on a movie-like muddy and rainy Sunday night as I ran through a field of mud and water in the pouring rain holding hands with two lovely new lady friends. And in the middle of all of this running/rain/mud, everything turned to slow motion as Foo Fighters had began playing "Hero."

And scene.

Everything has a place. Is this it?

I keep telling myself I need to write more. People keep asking me to write more.
I've been in about a 4 month funk of writers block and nothing seems  to be inspiring me.
That is the worst.

I'm moving again in four weeks. This will be eighth apartment in eight years - I don't even know how that's possible. My third already in Chicago; and then I come to the realization that I've already been in Chicago just over two years and I have no idea where the time has gone. I still feel new here. I still don't know the city like I thought I would. And in some ways, I'm more alone than when I first arrived here; I'm not sure how that's even possible. Summertime in Chicago is the worst time to feel like you're in the middle of a friend drought. There is so much going on, and so much to see. I guess I could start attending festivals and pass out flyers that say something like "Free Friend. Inquire right now - look up."

Another apartment. Another year lease. And I'm starting to wonder...when the hell am I going to ever go back home to California? Or will I? Timing seems like everything the older you get; responsibilities holding you in place. I'm not 20 anymore. Picking up and just leaving isn't just a trivial argument with your folks and a chance to prove someone wrong about whether or not you're going to make it somewhere new. It's an adventure at 20. A commitment at 25. A foundation at 30(ish).

I'll be honest. Whether it's here or there, or anywhere else -
I might be just about ready for solid ground.

We Come Out On Top

Over the years in my ripe old age of 28...I realize I have many more "WTF" moments than I would like to admit. When I'm not fully happy or satisfied in life, it seems like every Monday I ask myself, "Uh...Afton, where is your life going?" In turn, I panic, feel unfulfilled, and probably sprout a few gray hairs that I hope my hair color is covering. Sure, we do things to try and change our current situation; help ourselves, but it's not going to come to fruition until it is good and ready. In the mean time, we buckle up and keep pressing. There have been many times where no matter how much I've cried, was scared, worried, felt like I was at rock bottom or desperate over something, I always come out alive, with a roof over my head, a heartbeat, a family and friends, and Jesus politely saying, "I told you so."

And no matter how many times I've heard this, I still seem to forget how blessed I am.

I recently experienced a huge blessing in disguise. The moment it happens you say, "well this is wrong/stupid/not the way it's suppose to be." NOPE.

Today I'm feeling a little lighter and even more optimistic. There are some things in life you think you need to keep, when in the big picture, it's just weighing you down and you're better off without it.
So here's to tomorrow. Good or bad, we come out on top.

Prioritize and Accessorize

Realizing last night that I'm an (accessory) hoarder, I decided to take an hour and go through all of my necklaces in hopes of downsizing. It didn't go as well as I had hoped...

I could tell you where I got/who gave me each and every one of these necklaces. I'm one of those "hard to let go of certain things" kind of people...even when I don't have much use for it anymore. But once I sprawled all of these out across my floor it became more like a time-line of beads, silver, gold, and cheap plastic. Turns out, some of the cheap stuff is my favorite.

And this is where I ended up...

My clutter not much smaller than when I started.

Fail?

Theme 2010 - Post 1: Music

Songs that made my 2010 soundtrack 
(Not necessarily debuting in 2010...)

Home – Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

Airplanes – Local Natives
Rococo – Arcade Fire
Plastic Jungle – Miike Snow
Dance Yourself Clean – LCD Soundsystem
When I’m Small - Phantogram
Connjur – School of Seven Bells
Sprawl II – Arcade Fire
Clap Your Hands - Sia (xx!)
Blue Blood – Foals
Cosmic Love – Florence and the Machine
All to All – Broken Social Scene
Baby - Warpaint
Dream – Goldfrapp
Edge of Desire – John Mayer
Shak’ida – Donora
Howlin’ For You – Black Keys
Never Grow Up – Taylor Swift (completely allowed)

Songs I'm ashamed to admit I enjoyed in 2010
(some that often resulted in random dance parties...)

Runaway – Kanye West

DJ Got Us Falling in Love – Usher
Bad Romance – Gaga (obvious choice)
Love Sick Teenagers – Bear in Heaven
Whip My Hair - Willow (awesome choice)
Firework – Katy Perry
Love the Way You Lie – Eminem & Rihanna
Last Kiss – Taylor Swift
Your Love Is My Drug – Ke$ha (that sneaky bitch)
Country Strong – Gwenyth Paltrow
Need You Now - Lady Antebellum

Wow. I'm really embarrassed. 

Sometimes Christmas = Survival

It’s winter in this city.
Bitter. Cold. Windy.
It’s the season of giving but it feels as though I have nothing left to give.
It’s a time for cheer but my cheering days have long since been over.
Trying hard to keep the warmth inside when you’re alone with drafty windows, in what still feels like a new city is a trick I have yet to perfect.
I thrive in moments of smiles and holiday that get me by, like snowflakes that trickle down and then melt away.
It seems these last few years the “merry” is dwindling…
But I’ll bundle up inside my parka and shield my eyes from the cruel wind and press on.
I have to.
You have to.
We all have to.
Because around the corner, there is a heat lamp with a space open for you; a crowded fire pit of people keeping each other warm.
And despite our hardships, we remember we are blessed. No matter who you are, or where you are in life - there is something to be thankful for.

This little light of mine.

Mean Girls

My youngest sister is 15 and a sophomore in high school. When I look at the girls she is surrounded by and how these girls treat each other, it makes my stomach turn. My family lives in Small Town, (Southern) Illinois where everyone knows just about everything about you and your family. The importance of status in both high school and adulthood are pretty much the same: what neighborhood you live in, the kind of car you drive, the kind of car your 16 year old drives, how good they are at the sport they play (give or take), what job you have, and how much of your closet is from Abercrombie & Fitch/Hollister/American Eagle/Whatever the kids are wearing these days.

When I reflect on my times in junior high - 8th grade in particular, even at 27 I'm still a little sore when I put myself back in my 14 year old shoes. Not to say that I have open wounds, but those were some of the most difficult times of my young life, socially. I came from a private school into a public junior high school in 8th grade, which I suppose made me an easy target. One girl - ONE - saw that as an opportunity to use me as a step stool in order to gain attention, and it worked like a charm. I'll never forget how much I hated the P.E. locker room, basketball games where I had kids mocking me from the stands and laughing while I was cheering, practices where I cried to my squad telling them rumors weren't true and having some of them laugh at me, or the most popular (and tiniest) girl confront me in the bathroom and threaten to fight me because of what this person told her I supposedly said. Of course, me and said tiny girl have since laughed about this, but I was terrified at the time. I often came home from school and practice in tears because there was nothing I could do. I had a small handful of friends I stuck to like glue, because they were the only ones that cared.


Later that year however, this girl was removed from my school for poor behavior. Sometimes what goes around really does come around, I guess. I had hoped some of those people felt stupid for having listened to this broad and I know some of them did, and others carried on like it never happened. And I was just fine with that too, but that year left me a little bit scarred.

I have two younger sisters who have both gone through similar situations in high school and it is so painful to watch. As I've gotten older, it amazes me that young girls can do this to each other for no real reason at all. Bullying is becoming a real magnified problem for kids; they know it, they see it, they hear about it, but it still continues, and honestly - gets worse through the years. I just thank God that the mediums of social networks like facebook/myspace/twitter weren't around to be used as a megaphone when I was a kid.

Unfortunately when I go back home to visit, there are *some* adults I see living out their bullying days through their kids via sports, coaches, and some even still acting like life is a popularity contest in their 40s and 50s with each other. We're suppose to be teaching our youth the Golden Rule rather than acting like we're still in Mrs. Smith's 5th grade class at 45.  There are bigger things in life than the petty things we are spending our time gossiping and worrying about, and when something isn't right - SPEAK UP ABOUT IT. But that's...another story.


I have a question for you - do you look back on your life as a kid, knowing you were really cruel to someone/some people and think "wow, I was awesome?" And if you are picking on someone - why? Is it that important to go out of your way to make someone else miserable? 

Dear Sweet Sixteen,

Teen drama can rule your life and some high school girls are catty, petty, and horribly mean to each other for the sake of attention. But I promise nothing about popularity or humiliation will matter once you walk out of those doors for the last time. The punch line comes about five years after graduation when you have passed a lot of them on the climb; and in some cases, a few will turn out to be some of your closest friends - even though right now it might almost feel like an endless tunnel. 

Small town = small people. Shine through. xoxoxo.

Free the 3

Free the 3  Thursday marks what could be a monumental day for the future of not only Damien Echols, but Jessie Misskelley, Jason Baldwin, and all those who are spending their years growing old in prisons or awaiting death row because they were convicted of crimes they didn’t commit and have DNA evidence to back it up.

Jessie, and Jason have spent the last 16 years in prison serving life sentences since 1994 and Damien (who was 19 in 1994) is on death row (now 35), for the murder of three young boys in West Memphis, Arkansas, where DNA clears their name. Tomorrow oral arguments begin for what is Damien’s last chance for a new trial in the state of Arkansas. You can stream the oral arguments live tomorrow 9/30 at 9 a.m. at the link provided above —> Free the 3.
Learn more about the case and Damien Echols here:
http://edition.cnn.com/2010/CRIME/09/28/west.memphis.3.damien.echols/

Rio De JaColourMeHappy

This is the central entrance to a poor community called Santa Marta in Rio De Janeiro, which recently underwent a slightly colorful change. The project is sponsored by a local paint company called Favela Paint; local painters who were educated while working on the project. Pretty amazing if you ask me.

Read more about the project here.

Found via Oh joy!