I Remember #2

I remember my first concert.

I was fourteen, wore too much black eyeliner, and thought I was cool for wearing lots of bracelets and hanging out with Jack McCamy.

I wanted to ask JP but that would make me “uncool” if I liked him. Therefore, I invited Jack to Three Days Grace.

I knew Jack liked me and he had what I didn’t and what JP wanted: alcohol.

We snuck in our big styrofoam McDonald’s cups with sweat tea still dried to the lid and filled them with the mini bottles of jaeger that Jack had me stash in my bra and boots.

We got there and headed straight for the standing area in front of the stage. It smells like sweat and the lingering scent of pot. I feel so cool….

I knew they were coming but we were the first ones there. We stood and Jack flirted while we waited for the opening band to come out.

Before I knew it, JP and Jace were standing behind us. JP had that over confident look on his face. He was already drunk….

We danced and sang along while JP pretended not to like me too because then he wouldn’t be cool anymore. But he watched me the entire concert, brushing shoulders with me any chance he could.

I didn’t know if it was because he wanted my McDonald’s cup or maybe it was an accident?

It was time to head home. JP left without saying goodbye because he’s too cool.

Jack drove us home in his silver F150. I realized I had ignored the person I came with.

I kissed Jack on the cheek bye.

“Thank you for a fun night. I’m glad you came”

“Yeah, sorry JP is a dick. You’re too good for him”

For a minute I thought “Hey. Maybe I should go out with Jack. I mean, he’s my neighbor, good looking, and totally into me right?”

Before I could finish my thought his lips crashed into mine, pressing my head against the leather head rest of the car, pulling my hair tight against my back. My arm was trapped under his as he leaned across the console, pinching my skin.

As I tried to pull away from enough awkwardness to last a century, he got a bloody nose.

“Um, I have to go.”

He then leaned over and opened the door for me upon which I immediately jumped out, clutching my purse.

He slammed the door before I could say, “uhh, okay, bye”


I Remember

I remember when I rode my first horse. I was around six years old and I remember thinking how stupid it was because all they did was walk me up the hill on a pony named Wrisky.

I remember after my first lesson petting a giant, white percheron named Waffles that was begging for attention over the top rail of the fence.

I remember telling my parents I wanted to go somewhere else.

I remember my first day at Penrose. I was wearing my little black t-shirt with ruffled sleeves that said RODEO across it with a picture of a cowboy on a bucking horse. I was wearing my first pair of tan riding breeches and black ariat paddock boots too.

I remember the first time I cantered a horse (pony). I was in a lesson with Chambley and Skylar, they were on Peabody and Buckles, while I was riding Acorn (the names I know…lol). I DONT remember what it was he spooked at, probably nothing, but while we were trotting around the ring he spooked and took off galloping (aka short stubby pony canter but to me it was full speed) and Heather (the trainer) made everyone clap for me because I stayed on. Chambley and Skylar were SO MAD. They were always jealous of anyone else accomplishments.

I remember seeing Chip on equine.com. ┬áHe was the cutest small horse I had ever seen. He wasn’t quite a pony but was a very small horse (but I thought he was big so therefore riding him would make me the coolest). I remember wanting him so bad but never thinking my parents would get me my own horse.

I remember going to the barn one day and Sue (another trainer), Chambley, and Skylar all pulled me aside because we needed to organize our “picnic”.

I remember leaving our meeting and walking into the main barn isle.

Chip….with a big red bow.



to be continued…

Color *blue*

In the #BigBlueNation, everything isn’t big and blue. Sure, campus signs, maps, paw prints, t-shirts are blue, but so are other things.

Backpacks are blue. They are Patagonia brand trimmed in orange with darker blue coffee stains.

Recycling bins are blue. They are cheep “one-size-fits -all” trash bags inside standard blue cans on every corner.

Big Blue Nation is the “STOP: only service animals allowed” signs on every entrance.

It is the blue construction crane across the street, building more blue things.

It is the blue UK shirt on nearly 50% of students.

#BigBlueNation is the blue #Lexington banners hanging from light posts through every season.

It is the blue emergency “safe place” post.

#BigBlueNation is B-L-U-E Cats Cats Cats.

Writing Style

I think my writing style could be described as straightforward, open, funny, but also emotional. All of my writing revolves around topics that are very close to my heart. It is often associated with animals.

With that said, my animals inspire me to write. Their relationships with myself and each other make me want to put our non-verbal connection into words. I want to personify them because of their uniqueness and ability to communicate without words. In a sense, they have taught me how to “show” rather than “tell” because they are able to tell me many things without actually saying anything.

I would like to write from their point of view for future writing. I am always coming up with words/voices for them so I would like to put that into writing so that I could really capture their character.


She played with his hair as he slept. She knew he didn’t notice but she did it anyways.

Earlier that day he had left her breakfast in the microwave. Fluffy, scrambled eggs with one round piece of mild sausage, covered up with a paper towel. Ready to heat.



She stalled out again and slammed her hands on the dash.

“Mother fucker!”

The blue sedan behind her honked and she threw the bird in the rearview as she slammed in the clutch then yanked the stick left, then up.


to be continued…


“I’m fine”

The famous last words you hear before she kicks your head off and feeds you to the dogs.

“No you’re not, Amber. Whats going on?”

I thought we were having a good day. I took her to the local fair, rode some rides and ate funnel cake until we were unfit to ride anything else.

“No, I said it’s fine. Text her if you want. I don’t care.”

“Seriously? This is about Samantha?”

We saw an old friend of of mine from church camp three years ago and I texted her after she left to say “good to see you! Glad you’re doing well.” not “Hey we should go out some time because this person im with is definitely not my girlfriend”