That one poem

I have always preferred to write poetry in the style of Walt Whitman- free, full of feeling and noises. But Emily Dickinson’s gentle cynicism has always been dear to my heart. She was so different and yet still similar to myself.

There is a poem that I was taught in 11th grade when learning about American Literature from Ms. Pulliam- one of my all-time favorite teachers- and it became my immediate goal to memorize it. A short, sweet and utterly brilliant poem, it brought wonder and awe to my young, contentious mind.

I now feel the need to share it and document in blood (kinda since the internet is forever) how meaningful it is to me and to share it with you.


Apparently with no surprise

By: Emily Dickinson


Apparently with no surprise

To any happy Flower

The Frost beheads it at its play—

In accidental power—


The blonde Assassin passes on—

The Sun proceeds unmoved

To measure off another Day

For an Approving God.



Ponder that.


– Am

That is really shitty…

Maybe I am being overly sensitive, but someone shit in the bathroom of my personal office less than five minutes before I arrived back from lunch…

There are only three employees other than myself here today and there are five bathrooms in this office.  Other restrooms (whose offices are not occupied) are vacant for the entire day to air out. But mine was chosen…

And right before I return? So that I can be punched in the face execpectedly on a full stomach? Fucking Yuck.

Could you take that stink elsewhere?

The older I get, the more that I try to purposefully weed out the negativity from my life.

I don’t want to be surrounded with people who droll on about the same issue over and over again and never do anything to alleviate it. I don’t like those who are constantly spewing other people’s business like it’s their own. I can’t stand girls who whine on about how their boyfriend (who has proved over and over again what a bag of shit he is) has been treating her shittily again but she never leaves the fucker..

wah wah wah…

How you react to a situation is everything. Your attitude determines more than your aptitude. (I think I read that on a poster in middle-school somewhere) And bad attitudes can be so infectious. In fact, I have come to a rather brilliant conclusion (if I do say so myself).

A bad attitude is like a large brown fart cloud that continuously follows you around. It is obvious and unpleasant for everyone near.

So tone that shit down. (see what I did there?)


– Am



The Thing About My Lover…

Our love story is far from a fairy tale. But he is still my knight in worn-out denim & steel-toed boots, & always will be. 💕

Tyrell and I started dating three years ago.  Unbeknownst to me at the time, he was a hardcore drug addict.

He stole from me, lied to me and used me for about six months while hiding his addiction. Then we separated for three months (upon my finding out). He begged and pleaded on how he would get sober if I would give him another chance. So I gave in.

When what my mother warned me of finally did happen, I was in over my head. She told me that it would be easier for him to drag me down than it would be for me to lift him up. I was the most miserable that I have ever been following our reconnection. Momma warned me that she had many seedy friends (like I need reminding) but she had never known any as heavy into the crap as he was to come off of it…

It took nine months of him pretending to get sober for me to open my eyes. I was not living the life that I wanted or deserved. I packed my bags and headed 600 miles away to my best friends house in Nashville. I didn’t even bother to tell him that I was leaving because I knew at the time, he was somewhere on the westside of Jacksonville blowing his entire week’s pay on a single day’s high.

I was over 300 miles away on the other side of Atlanta before I told him what my plan was. It was pretty simple… to get away from all the bullshit.

I knew that I did not want drugs to be part of my daily life. He flipped back and forth from angry to remorseful in milliseconds, as drug addicts so often do. Ty had been on opiates for over six years. He was taking up to 300 milligrams of Roxicontin a day if he could get his hands on them. He begged me to come home. I knew that I couldn’t do it anymore.

He called me the next morning once he calmed down and regained his wits. He said that he would check into a rehabilitation center if I would consider giving him another chance. I agreed. I have always loved him and knew that I was not ready to give up.

Ty checked into Promise of Hope in Cochran, GA on May 29, 2014. He attended for 8 weeks.  He has been sober for one year and eight months now, still going strong.

Now that you have heard a lot of negative awful shit about him,

Onto why I love him:

  • He agrees that I am the boss. (probably the most important reason)
  • He knows neat things like the makes, models, body styles, details and engines of most antique cars
  • He thinks I am a genius (I really don’t know why)
  • He can fix anything
  • He totally would cry as much as I do (on the regular) if his tear ducts weren’t broken
  • He reminds me regularly that I am his backbone & driving force behind his sobriety
  • He holds door & still uses worn out phrases like “yes ma’am” or “no sir”
  • He always sees the same shapes in the clouds as I do
  • He remembers the smallest, sweetest details about events and places
  • He is a fantastic storyteller
  • He buys me flowers regularly even though he thinks they are a waste of money
  • He wants to be a good father to his children more than anything
  • He is a momma’s boy and wants her to know it
  • He admits when he is being stubborn (sometimes…)
  • He calls me on my bullshit (also sometimes…)
  • He helps me with the dishes (even less often, but i’ll still give it a “sometimes”…)
  • He works hard and loves even harder



– Am


How do I know if I am doing this right?

What is the purpose of life?

Is it to be happy? Or to be useful? Is it to love?

I am actually asking you…

Maybe it’s a happy medium somewhere in between? I don’t fucking know.

I struggle with this constantly.

Some people believe that it is to be “comfortable” or well-known or well-liked. Some people think that it is to “spread the gospel” or live a certain way to heed to a certain dogma.

I am none of the above…. but I just can’t figure it out.

It is all so selfish to me.

What I mean is, everything that is good is good because it is good to me, you see? My opinion is the only gauge or moral compass that I have to base it upon. What about what is good to you? We have different opinions and therefore will occasionally disagree. Who is right? It isn’t always the majority… So who is to decide?

Just thinking.


– Am


(Community) College Freshman at 27

I’m actully 26, but have been telling everyone that I am 27 since last October. So just go with it, because I can’t remember not to.

How did I get here and why should you give a shit? Well, how I got here is kind of the point of this blog. So don’t step on my toes just yet. But stay tuned for the many awkward, semi-funny, mostly unimportant, sometimes sad, occasionally brilliant moments of my life, both past and present.

Let us get started with recent happenings and see where it goes…

I moved back to my hometown in Northeast Florida from the great city of Savannah, Georgia about seven months ago. If you haven’t been to the fairy tale that is Savannah, you need to. I am not sure if it’s the amazing cuisine🍝, up-and-coming art scene🎨, public drinking tolerance🍻, live music🎶, or world-class shopping💸 that entices both young, edgy hipsters and retired grandmothers in fanny packs and sun visors. But you need to check it out…

and I am losing my point…

LOOK A SQUIRREL!                                                                                            🐌 Or snail…. whateves.

Anywho- upon my return home, I decided that I no longer wanted to work in “Corporate America”. I no longer had a desire to work in the big city of Jacksonville wearing a pencil skirt and high heels power walking under florescent lights with my file of spreadsheets in tow. I no longer wanted to answer telephones from a headset all day long feeling confined to an office chair. Instead, I took a pay cut and accepted a part-time job three days a week performing payroll for a tire shop and billing for a civil construction company.

Keep in mind that I’ve not taken a single educational class in over 9 years up until this point. Maybe that is the why  I felt ashamed to be a decade older than my classmates once class actually started. I didn’t spend time in the military. I did not have kids at a young age. I did not deal with a longterm illness that I overcame. Nothing. I have no excuses as to why I’ve waited so long, other than I was living. I had a career and it took some time to realize I was not fulfilled (even though it was a wonderful job).

So I finally officially started college last Fall with two classes.

I will not be my own worst enemy and allow the intimidation of something new hold me back from pursuing my goals. I have pressed forward and am now actively working towards my A.A. with a full schedule this semester.

As one of my new classmates quoted last Monday, “Don’t let your dreams become just dreams.


– Am


Hello, my name is Amber & I’m trying to become an alcoholic (but not on purpose).

Let me start out by letting you know that I am going to get way inappropriate in the duration of this blog.

Like way, wayyyy too deep.

Like my sex life, personal problems, political opinions (not really), family issues, and even the stupid, selfish, whiny moments that should not be spoken of will be written down in the context of the internet forever. Because I am an overshare-er, that’s why.

Plus, I am on my second bottle of San Sebastian’s Vintners Red, so that helps. It’s a local wine that is honestly way too sweet to be called a Red wine but it has an 11% alcohol content and the fancy name makes me feel classier about consuming two bottles in their entirety during one sitting.

What a great place to start…


– Am