Remembering: Death of A Bachelor Tour

Exactly a year ago Brandon and I got to experience Panic! At the Disco, live. I remember very vividly that entire weekend, and I know that I will never regret it either. It was the Thursday before the concert when I found out that Panic! At the Disco was playing in Louisville Kentucky. I had exactly three—hundred dollars in my bank account and that was barely enough to in the first set of seats, diagonal from the stage. But I knew that no matter what the seats were, Brandon would enjoy them.

I had ordered the tickets and called him that Friday while I was leaving work, at the time all of us worked at Subway together, which was exactly fifteen / twenty minutes away from where he was living at the time. Now his mom already knew that I was getting the tickets, but he still had zero clue that this was going to happen. I was schedule to work that Sunday, but we worked it out that she would come in early so I would be able to get ready.

While driving to his house that afternoon, I vividly remembering this being our conversation:

Me: “Hey what are you doing on Sunday night?”

Brandon: “Nothing”

Me: “Want to go to Louisville to see Panic! At the Disco?”

** Complete silence **

Me: “I bought the tickets, we are pretty close to the stage.”

Brandon: “Yeah!”

Now, in order to get him to go I had to fib a bit and tell him that I had a family member of mine get me a discount through her works. It would be months later when I would tell him that I paid the full price.

On Sunday around noon we set out on one of our first real adventures. As everyone knows, we would go out spontaneously at midnight to random cities, but this was our first real adventure, that was decently planned and not at 3 AM. This was before Brandon had his fancy Elantra, and before I stopped driving at night, so we set out in my Toyota, the car without shocks. It’s crazy to think that both of my Honda and Toyota could travel such long distances. They never really let me down, but I’m not going to say I miss my 1990’s vehicles… because I would be lying, I love not having a car that’s older than me.

When we got to Louisville we ate dinner at this little pizzeria called Bearno’s, I don’t know if it was because we were starving or if it was simply just that good, but their pizzas were the bomb and not super overpriced! That’s a win-win.

Now, call me sappy, but Brandon and I often talk about the first, real, moments that we realized that we cared for each other more than just friends. That night was so important to me, on the way down, we were both so excited, despite the whiplash we were getting from the Toyota. I think we listened to every Brenden Urie song he’s ever performed. When we got to our seats, which the layout confused the hell out of me, it was the first time in a long while I had been in a large crowd of people. I was so nervous that I was going to have a panic attack, but Brandon made me feel really secure. Needless to say, no panic attacks happened that night, and everything about that night just started to make sense to me.

On our way home, we ended up going over a toll bridge twice getting lost, and we even ended up in a really sketchy part of the neighborhood when my car almost broke down from not having oil in it. Eventually we made it over to Indiana, where we ate at an IHOP. We were so tired by that point, that we were putting syrup in our coffee… listen, I will justify this until I pass, but they didn’t have creamer and nobody likes black coffee. We did what we had to do.

When we finally started heading home, Brandon and I had some intimate conversations about the future and what changes we wanted to make in our lives. It was that night that Brandon and I decided to look for an apartment together, and it wasn’t that long after that I started spending my weekends over at his place. When we finally got back to his place, it was almost 6 AM. We were so tired, I am pretty sure we just slept the next day away. I often think about last April and how much has changed, for the better. Everyone always said that we would end up together, but we never believed them. Our excuse would always be that we were to similar, but as it turns out that’s what makes us so good.

 

So, thanks Panic! At The Disco, if it wasn’t that concert those conversations would have never happened.

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I’m a Consultant Now!

About a year ago, one of my friends started selling Pure Romance. At the time I thought the whole company was purely sex toys. However, I agreed to host a party and little to my knowledge Pure Romance was so much more. I started falling in love with their bath and beauty line, as well as as their toy collection. A year later, here I am – a consultant!

Lately, bills have been hard to pay and all of my consultant friends have been sharing on Facebook about how they make so much money from Pure Romance. I figured, I should give it a shot as well. I am such a people person and I know that with time and dedication I could totally make this gig work!

I am currently waiting on my starter kit to come in the mail, however everyone can still order online on my Pure Romance website! Once my starter kit comes in the mail, I will be able to do my Pop The Box with all of my family and friends! That’s what gets the ball really rolling!

I am so excited to be able to have this opportunity and cannot wait to see where it leads.

Click here for my Pure Romance website!

Click here to like the Facebook page! I won’t be using my WordPress to promote the business 🙂

— S.B

I Am Not Where I Was A Year Ago

I don’t mean that as a Cliché. When you read that, don’t think, “New year, new me”; because that’s not what I am saying at all. This time last year so much had happened to me that I couldn’t comprehend it. I was stuck in a position where I couldn’t learn or grow from all the disasters that were made. Everyone around me was telling me that I was going to be okay, or that I needed to find peace, I just couldn’t.

This time last year, I had been thrown out of my home twice, assaulted, gained thirty pounds, and found no motivation to get help. Only once in my life did I ever feel so low as I did in that moment. I was sixteen years old, and my friend Hannah was telling me, “If you can’t help yourself, then nobody can help you.” Little did I know that four years later her and her family would be helping me get on my feet again.  Upon moving in with her family, her parents were able to give me some sort of hope. I was considering dropping out, and was struggling to find a job. It was her parents, and a man who works at the community college, that sat me down and was able to persuade me otherwise.  With their help and a few honorable mentions, within two months of being in their home, I was going back to therapy, and trying to work out whatever mess it was that I needed to work out.

A year ago, I had zero boundaries, I struggled with decision making. For the past two years, I was involved with a toxic relationship. Many of my friends would say it was more than toxic, it was abusive. However, I believe, to this day, that I was not healthy for him, just as he was not healthy for me. When we finally ended things, moving on was a whole new chapter. I went from always being in a relationship to finally being alone. I had no idea who I was without someone else telling me who I was.

Therapy started to show me who I could become if I just let go, and had a ‘redo’. Which is exactly what I did in May of 2017. All of that hate was released following the weekend of Easter. I had been so obsessed with always trying to make things right, that I couldn’t let myself see that the things that happened are just exactly that. My family, has struggled with the fact that I changed my name. My response to them has always been, “I changed my name, because I vowed to make myself come first. I changed my name, because I had so much hate in my life, that I needed to be able to let go. By changing my name, I have let go. I see the bigger picture and I see that there can be so much room to grow, if it’s allowed.”

When I say, “where I was a year ago, is not where I am today” it’s because I truly believe that. My first year in college, I was able to feel emotions I had never felt before. I was able to accomplish things I never thought I would ever do. I stopped being apologetic for things I no longer felt the need to feel sorry for, and I stopped validating my actions. I decided to not think twice, and just go with my first gut instinct. For the first time, I finally felt what it meant to be confident, sexy and beautiful. I don’t say anything to feel pity, because I am proud of who I am, and who I was. To want pity would mean that I would loathe, or find what has happened to me to be discouraging. In the past year, I have had so many great people come into my life and show me what it means to be family, and to be friends. I have changed for the better, and that’s all I could ever ask of myself.

 

-S.B

P.S: Among the many moral changes, I also stopped wearing bras and I will never put on something so tight and wired ever again.

Recipe: Buttery Pecan Cookies

1 Cup of softened butter

1 teaspoon of maple syrup

3/4 cup of sugar

2 1/2 cups of flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

an egg

1 small bag of pecans.

 

1.) In a mixing bowl, add the butter (softened) and sugar together. Continue mixing until the mixture is fluffy.

2.) Add in the (1) egg and maple syrup.

3.) In the same mixing bowl, continue mix the flour, baking powder, and salt.

The mixture at this point should seem like dough.

4.) kneed the dough into a ball, wrap in plastic wrap. Then place dough into the fridge for 1 hour.

One hour later….

5.) Preheat oven to 375 degrees

6.) Roll it thin with a rolling pin, into shapes.

7.) Cookies go in until bottoms are a tad golden brown.

 

  • S.B

 

 

My Christmas Traditions.

One thing I have been thankful for is that my family was rich with tradition. Growing up, during December, we had a special thing going on (almost) weekly. Christmas was my mother’s and my grandmother’s favorite time of the year. My grandmother would start putting up her Christmas village in November. Her Christmas village, as a child and even as an adult, was the most fascinating time of the year. This year, to my dismay, she is only putting up one table (her village typically is over five tables). Below I have listed my holiday traditions, that I have been doing since I was seven years old.

25 days of Christmas – Starting the first of December, I would receive a candy box, that would have chocolate hidden behind the numbers. Every day after dinner, I would search for the correct number (day in the month) and I would pop open the door and a small piece of chocolate would be there.

Kathy Treats – Last year I made a blog post all about Kathy Treats and how to make them. Everyone knew it was Christmas season when my aunt would bring home, salted pretzels, M & M’s and Hershey Kisses. This year, I did not shop early enough for the Hershey Kisses, they go into stores starting in November, and they stop selling the last week of November. They are impossible to find in December. Instead this year, I will probably find white chocolate melts, and do it that way.

St. Nick’s Day and Ornament giving – On St. Nick’s Morning, we would receive an ornament to place on the tree. This ornament would be specific to the year you had. The year I learned to play guitar, I got a guitar ornament and the year I learned how to drive, I got a steering wheel. The ornament would have my name on it and the year that it happened.

Christmas Eve – On Christmas Eve, we would get to open one gift. Which was always fresh new Pajamas to wear on Christmas Day.

Santa’s Hat – on Christmas day the person to hand out the gifts would be the person wearing Santa’s Hat. It was always really important to me, because I came from a huge family, and I was considered one of the youngest.

Tis the season to be merry.

  • S.B

Speak Love: Donation Post

In the next coming months, I will be able to make a greater impact in my community, specifically with my college. As many people know I am part of the movement called, Speak Love. Which is an all-inclusive group that focuses on love and accepting one another no matter what our walk of life is. Nick Jackson, who started Speak Love, is also my friend and mentor who has helped me through this journey with setting up the Gateway Branch. Although, we primarily focus on suicide prevention speeches at high schools and colleges, we would be taking a new route with Gateway.

Not only will we be focusing on suicide prevention, we would also be focusing on poverty within education. Many of the volunteers for Speak Love understand what it’s like to only have a few bucks in our pockets, trying to make ends meet. Hopefully, through donations we would be able to donate the little things that mean a big thing. These times would include socks, diapers, pencils, notebooks, ext. However, we cannot make this part possible if we do not have people willing to donate the items.

Which is why I am now asking those who read this blog to donate to this cause. Every penny counts and I know that Speak Love and Gateway would be grateful knowing that there are people out there willing to donate. Below is the link if you can do so.

 

With much love and respect,

 

  • B

 

https://www.gofundme.com/gatewayspeaklove

 

Dinner Conversations (Short Story)

     I’m sitting at the dining room table. It’s been a long day of school, and my parents expect me to say something more than, “It was boring.” Which, no matter how true it was, apparently saying it seems worse than telling a lie. “It was great. I learned new things.” I could tell them that, however that involves another conversation… which includes saying what I learned.

What did I learn today? In second bell Marcus decided to throw an eraser at Isabell, who then made a huge scene, which the teacher bought. In study hall, I finally finished my sketchbook, with my own version of Vincent van Gogh’s Starry Night. At lunch, I again sat by myself, but that’s mainly because my group of friends no longer exist. Well, Maria still has my back. You rat a kid out once for cheating and suddenly you’re the snitch of the eighth grade.

It was at that moment that I realized that my parents were staring at me. I had a plate full of chicken, rice and broccoli and hadn’t touched it yet. It was father’s favorite meal, which meant mother was up to something. “Placement tests for the art school is a month.” My mother said, while looking at my father. This was an argument which they had been having for a month now. Mom wants the art school, and father wants the public school, which he attended. The issue with both was that I wanted to get far away and just live a bit. And as usual, they go off into their own conversation on why the other is right.

There is no time like the present.

“So, as it happens, I found a really good school for next year.” My parents look at me clueless. This had been the longest running conversation at the dinner table. The conversation about my future beat out our conversation on how we would beat the apocalypse. Which is a conversation we’ve been having for over a year now, due to all the apocalyptic shows my father watches.

“That’s good sweetie!” She’s trying to be supportive, but every word is cracking because she doesn’t want me to go to the district public school.

“Wherever you want to go, is where we will send you.” He says confident that I’ll pick the cheapest future for myself, go into the family business and still be highly successful.

There is no time like the present. I play with my fingers and scramble the words out. “There’s a boarding school, about four hours away, located in Nevada.” My parent’s jaws are dropped. For once they can agree on one thing, I was going crazy. I have an opportunity to live my life outside Roseburg, Idaho and be proud of it. I don’t have friends here and it will be hard enough going to high school.

Many moments pass.

I start to eat. I’m scarfing down my plate, so I can leave the table and go to my room. Nobody is talking. They both can’t be thinking that much, they barely think that much in general. As they continue to sit in silence, I get up. I push in my chair and clean my dish.

“Sweetheart, wait.” My father, holds out his hand. He’s going to give me that, father side hug and tell me what a huge mistake I’m making. That boarding school is for teens with issues. I don’t have issues, obviously, because I’m their little girl. But I please him and walk over. Leaving my dish in the sink.

“May I ask why you’d want to go to this boarding school?” If I knew he was going to ask questions, I would have prepared for them.

“Well… um…” How do I put something so cruel, into the nicest words for such fragile people? I’m fourteen years old, that’s not how the world is supposed to work.

“I want to move away, be on my own. I want to experience new people, and can say I enjoyed it. Staying here, where the sun hardly shines makes me depressed. I don’t have friends at school, my teachers keep sending home notes saying they need you to sign off on things, which I then sign. It’s not that you two did anything wrong, or that you messed up… But secretly I’m wanting more.”

My father hugs me, and for once he’s on my side. “Okay, I understand. I’m not hurt, and if it’s what you want then I’m sure your mother and I can get –” He’s cut off right in the middle of his heart warming speech. A speech I desperately needed from him. Why would my mother do such a thing? This may be the only time I get this from him.

“No.” The most understanding person in this room says. She gets up and walks out of the room. I sit down at the table once more.

Father looks at me and says, “Maybe next dinner she’ll be alright.”