They say the last thing you think about before you go to sleep is what your heart truly belongs to. My heart belonged to Basketball. When I was in 9th grade, the coach moved me up from the Shepton team and allowed me to play varsity at West. That year was the best of my life.

I remember the constant suspense of whether the ball was going to swish for success, or clang with the loud sound of failure. I remember the roaring crowd, shouting for a victory. I remember my team. My girls. One team. One goal.  The tap tap tap of the ball against the court. The magnificant swish. The final buzz of the alarm. Crowning a champion. My heart belonged to the tap tap tap and the glorious swish! I remember. I remember my craving for perfection. I remember love.

Basketball and I were supposed to stay together through college, but I made a choice. I chose to walk away. I chose to leave my love for myself. I came down with chronic bronchitis, was hospitalized my Sophomore season, and I lost everything. I was too heartbroken to continue, and when I started school at West my team had moved on. So had I, grades were more important. My academic achievements would carry me through college. I would no longer rely on my love.

Today I fell in love again. My sister finally found someone athletic enough to join her at the CC for a game of racquetball. She's good, was on the Squash team in college. Their different sports, but Squash is more complex and I am somewhat familiar with racquetball. I used to play with my friends at my Grandma's church.

With each rally I felt the boom boom boom in my heart I am so used to, and have been longing for. Suspense was no longer a recluse. Is Julia going to return my shot? Am I going to return hers? Who will win the epic rally? We weren't scoring per-say, but I won. I discovered a new place for my heart.

Tomorrow we're going to meet my young love again. Julia wants to finally kick out her baby weight, and I am so infatuated. So addicted, I cannot leave my love for long. The day I chose my long-term health over basketball, my other half left me. Basketball had moved on to better lovers, the NCAA.

Today I felt love again. The sickness in my stomach when the rally rejected me, and I could not return a shot. I am again week at the knees. I feel the burn of passion as I write to you. I have a sport again. Racquetball is my new love. My stomach flutters thinking of our next encounter. My heart warms as I dream of my new affair.

I've always been under the impression that my sister's husband kind of liked me. He's never been rude, or complained about having me around. Never, until today. When I touched his junk.

I was rummaging through a drawer full of crap in the kitchen looking for tape. I'm going to live here all summer. I should at least get to mount a few pictures. So I'm looking through the drawer, and her husband (Conner) comes in. Face to the name:

Anyway, this drawer is pretty full, and my sister clearly said this is where she keeps the tape. I'm digging, but all his junk is in the way. Finally I decide to take everything out one by one until I find some effing tape. Shot gun shells, a bunch of tools, screws, nuts and bolts, and a hammer. Yes, finally, there was tape in there too! I put everything back and look over my shoulder. Conner is pissed.

"What if a screw had fallen on the floor for the baby to get at it?"

'They're in a box.' I think, but only shrug.

"I know what would happen. He'd be dead. You wanna carry that with you?"

I just shook my head.

Julia decides to walk in, because evidently Conner was screaming so loud that he was upsetting his daughter. Julia asks her husband what happened to make him flip out.

"Your stupid sister touched my junk. That's what happened." Conner said then stormed out the kitchen, flopped on the couch, and started watching "My Names is Earl".

All I wanted was some tape to hang a few pictures of my friends from AC, and some stuff from the Royals. If I'd known that meant touching Conner's junk, I would've waited until I could make a trip to the container store. Because even after this fiasco, tape isn't doing it's job.

I have my first day of work on Monday. That means I'm spending all of this evening and tomorrow morning moving in with my sister Julia. In fact, I should probably be packing now. Why does it feel like I just moved back to Plano less than a month ago?

Originally I was only going to live with her during the week; but since dumbass has three kids I get to stay on the weekend to help with her brats. I don't care if she's twenty-seven. A mother of three should not run around in skinny jeans, cut offs, American Apparel, and Tyler's. Last time I visited her she wanted to take pictures of us in the hot tub.

Woman blue is baby-less. Woman in red has three kids. I am so tired of "Omg your baby is so beautiful!", and I'm pretty sure Jules will eventually tire of "hot babysitter". This is going to be an embarrassing summer.

There's no way I can commute from West Plano to the boutique so I'm going to have to stay with one of my sisters, but I'm really really excited! It's a cool store, and it turns out I won't have to work at Tom Thumb after all!

My dad sent me to Holland for memorial day to hang with his ex-wife (my mother)... It was a weird time.

It's clear the farm needs some work, but this is where my mom and that side of my family grew up. Just a few shots of the farm taken with my iPhone. How bout that contradiction?

My mother took me here, either Sunshine or Sunrise Cemetery. She has a son, so I have a brother, buried there. I tell you there is nothing more creepy, sad, and bizarre than looking over the grave of a little baby that's twelve years older than you. His name was Henry Cale N. and he died of a heart condition that I've never fully understood. Oh, he just had heart problems. I think he was born with a hole in his heart. He lived for four months and died at Children's Hospital attached to Parkland. It's sad, but that's all I know about him.

This is what I saw when I rode into downtown on my bike to meet my cousin. Literally meet my cousin, I didn't know him before this weekend.

If you're wondering why everything is so run down, there is a Wal-Mart about a block over.

My mother, Alexander, Penny, Makali, Cassie, Julia, Valerie, Adam, and my cousin Matthew all went to high school in that little building.

My cousin Matthew and I hung outside the school for a while. I wish we'd gotten a picture together. He really did try to jump that barbed wire fence. He landed right on it, laughed like a dingbat, then introduced me to my own aunt.

It's just hard to believe that my family came from a place so... decrepit. But this is where we (most of us) are now!

Driving into Downtown Dallas...

Gotta love the LBJ

My family's house in West Plano.

My high school.

My Senior High School.

It seems like Dallas and Holland aren't even on the same planet. It's hard to believe they're both in Texas!

I've been having a hard time sleeping since school let out. The job hunt isn't going so well. I haven't heard back from The Gap, Hollister, or anywhere at North Park for that matter. I don't want to work at Tom Thumb! I shouldn't have to. I have years of work experience. I go to the top college of education in the state! Number 11 in the nation! I'm from West Plano! Basically, I'm smart, rich, and hot! Why can't I work at somewhere cool?
My boyfriend wants to nail me before he graduates. Really? Before you graduate and try to find a job with your English/Poly Sci degree? You have plenty of time to nail me, and I'm starting to think I'm too good for you.
That song "Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men is stuck in my head, and it's only the part where the trumpets start playing and the girl sings about the stairs creeking in her sleep. Plus, I can't help but wonder how cool (no pun intended) it would be to study abroad in Iceland.
Hmm. Am I developing some kind of summertime insomnia, or am I just home away from home sick? Who cares. I just wish I could sleep.

First off his name is Lukas. He's from Austin, Texas and he's 21. He is a rising senior at Austin College, majoring in English and Poly Sci. He's made it pretty clear that he wants to fuck me.

Reasons are as follows:

1) I'm a virgin. How super special would his penis feel if he were the first in? I'm not a guy so I don't know.

2) I'm Catholic, and he's not. Catholic girls aren't prudes, but hey - I think it's quite clear that guys feel some sort of extra accomplishment after they fuck a Catholic girl.

3) I live in Dallas over three hours from Austin. He could do the whole fuck and run thing. Something I'm pretty sure he has planned...

4) I'm a lot younger than him. Maybe he thinks he'd be teaching me something? Also, he can purchase alcohol and I can't. I've seen what happens after my friends let a guy get them drunk, then do the nasty. No thanks.

5) I don't want to be fucked yet. No, I'm not playing hard to get. No, I'm not saving myself for marriage. I'd just rather wait until the wanting to fuck is mutual. C:

Nineteen. I'm nineteen - the last girl in my giant family of ten kids. I've learned to live with the hand-me-down pajamas, bras, and shoes; but one thing I still haven't gotten over is being treated like a baby one minute and then being told to grow up the next.

I understand that I am an adult. I do adult-type things. Ex: attend college, cook dinner, take care of babies (that don't belong to me btw), drive myself everywhere, go grocery shopping, go to my little brother's baseball games, and more.

I understand that I haven't been an adult long, and that to many people I'm still a kid. No one over the age of thirty values my opinion. I'm nineteen. I can't possibly know what I'm talking about right?

My dad still pumps my gas for me, but gets irritated when I ask him to drive me to Ft. Worth. I bought that car for you! Use it and grow up! My mom is obsessed with my whereabouts. Where are you? Who are you with? Is your boyfriend there? But anytime I want her to take me to eat, or to go shopping for fun, it's You're an adult. Go yourself.

I'm not getting very clear signals from my parents, and my siblings aren't any better. Sometimes I feel like they really think I'm still a baby. Shh! Don't talk about s.e.x. Amanda's in the room. I can certainly handle conversations about s.e.x.

What does growing up even mean? I've had a year to adjust to adulthood. Honestly, adulthood feels a lot like childhood. At least in my family.

I thought this was interesting. Seems like there's a pill for everything now.

and came across this. Scrape away, Clint.