Leah Q. Adult-in-Training

I got the notification about a week ago for a memory from my first blog post, it’s kind of funny how stuff like that happens. I guess by stuff I mean time, you don’t really realize how fast time passes until you’re reminded. Sometimes it’s in some incessant notification from Facebook that you get every day or, by the possessions you’ve acquired, maybe it’s even a change in the company you keep. Time is always progressing it’s always changing and you have to adapt to these things because if you can’t you get stuck. I feel like when I finally started this blog I stopped being stuck, it takes a lot of retrospective thinking to make actual progress. This is the platform I chose for dislodging myself from the rut I had created. It’s a really powerful thing to get yourself out of a rut. I chose to be alone with my grief because letting others in felt like I was relying too much on someone other than myself. I know what it feels like to not be able to control your friends emotions, to list

It’s almost funny to me how friendships happen. When you first meet someone it seems to be a trivial event, an occurrence of everyday. It is only down the line that you realize how monumental those minutes of conversation were in the long run. Honestly I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment all of us became a family or, even the exact moment I met each of them. What I can say for certain though is we are closer than any friendship I’ve ever encountered. I’ve never met a group of people so different from each other but so accepting of the unique personalities and beliefs we each hold. While I can’t remember the moments of introduction to each of my friends I do remember vividly the memories in which I realized that we were connected. When I say connected I mean we all shared one thing in common, Emaleigh. A couple of weeks ago I was discussing with Maria the what-ifs of our situation. What would have happened if Emaleigh hadn’t died, would we still be as close? Would we have slowly r

Just to let you all know I’m being extra cliché right now. I’m sitting outside of my regular Starbucks listening to Etta James and writing my February blog post. Honestly Etta is probably the best kind of artist to be listening to while I write this because honey knows about love. Yes people I am continuing on my path of the clichéd writer because during the month of February I will be writing about love. You all know that’s my favorite subject anyways so I don’t know why you guys would have expected anything different. I’d like to say my scenery is as equally romantic as the scene I’m about to set up for you but, alas I’m across the street form the ABC Liquor store that is caddy corner to the Shell Station…not exactly the French Riviera I know but, hey I’m working with what I’ve got.             So love, you people have got some messed up ideas of that word let me tell you. This blog post is called my ideal man. It’s not because I’m going to sit here and list all of the qualities m

            We all know what the New Year brings. Resolutions, and with resolutions come gym memberships that cease to be useful for more then a few months, vows to create lasting romantic relationships are thrown away after one too many shots of Fireball, and a long retrospective look into one’s self. The last of which is probably the only thing that is actually followed through into another year. Self-examination is something that people do on the daily. I don’t think there’s one day that goes by that I don’t think about myself, how can you not? I mean you wake up in the morning and see that face, the one with day-old mascara rings and the dried zit cream and you think wow, I look like crap, I should fix that. Fast forward to an hour later and you’re staring at yourself in the bathroom again, this time with perfectly winged eye-liner and smelling like daisies, or in my case Marc Jacob’s “Daisy Dream.”   As the day goes on inherently every thought that crosses your mind is about