Warroad Warriors.

Screen Shot 2014-08-16 at 10.31.20 PMIf you’d like to read about this ridiculous coalition that is threatening not only the Warroad Warriors but other pride rich communities in the United States, click here. I wish rich white people (the ones threatening the lawsuit) would stop acting like they are helping the American Indian population and let them stand up for themselves. If they have an issue with a mascot in a city of less than 2,000 people they can speak up for themselves which in this case they have and they are in full support of the Warriors symbolism not only on the school mascot front but as an entire community.

Advertisements

Forget Me Not.

My completely random thought of the day occurred on the way back to work from a relaxing lunch break listening to the best of the best Afilio hits. I’m no scientist, never will be and I actually hope that extensive research has already been done but here it goes:

Alzheimer’s and/or dementia is one of those silly things that I fear. There are so many things in this world to ultimately die from or some disease to get..heart disease, ALS, tumors, cancer, etcetera. But what could be worse than literally losing your mind? Losing the memories. Losing the ability to function day to day. How to dress yourself or know who your children are. It’s absolutely debilitating.

My great grandma had Alzheimer’s. Now, I don’t know if that’s what she actually died from, I was young. But I do remember her before the onset of the disease. I don’t know when it started, I don’t even know how old I was when she died but I remember her remembering me. I remember the buttered saltine crackers she gave us every time we came over. I remember her showing us the secret hiding caves in the upstairs bedroom. I remember her clothes and her cookies.

I didn’t think about it then or even in the years since she died..about why or how she died. Recently, I’ve been thinking about memory loss because it scares me. Is it hereditary? I’m almost afraid to do the research on it but I will. There are moments where I don’t know what I want to say so I say something else instead. It doesn’t happen often, really it seems to only happen when I’m at home. The other day I asked my boyfriend to get me some ice cream and ketchup when really I meant ice cream and a spoon. Why did I say ketchup? There was no ketchup in sight. Does my brain turn it’s dial down when the door to the apartment unlocks at precisely 5:17 each week day? My boyfriend calls me out on it whenever it does happen but what’s the matter with me? Is it concerning or is my brain just not trying hard enough when I’m lounging on the couch? I know what I want to say but my voice doesn’t seem to be connected to my brain.

I kind of got into a rant there. What I’m wondering is if the science world has asked about music in relation to memory loss. I’m sure they have. They had to have, right? As I said, I was listening to “Enjoy” by Afilio on my way back to work this afternoon. As soon as that track came on it immediately brought me to the street you turn by Domino’s Pizza in Bemidji. I flashed back to the lost search for the hilly road where the concert was. It was held in some dudes garage. I remembered the damp grass and the gravel driveway. Where we parked, who we were with. I remember standing two feet away from Rob Matrious. I remember it all.

Listening to “Cleanin’ Out My Closet” by Eminem brings me back to sitting in the front seat of the car with my mom and Nick. It was in Warroad by the beach. And she told us that we better never EVER talk to her or treat her that way. That way that Mr. Mathers talked about his mom. I remember when I first heard “Without Me” at my aunt Angie’s when she had that office/scrapbooking/reading room. There was a door leading out to the backyard and the river.

Hearing the Marilyn Monroe version of “Happy Birthday” brings me back to the earliest memories of my uncle Troy singing it to me in person. For years, he’s called me on the phone. For years!  But before that, when I was in young, it was in person. Maybe it was only once, I don’t know. But I remember it.

Music brings me back. I couldn’t imagine hearing a song from the past and not connecting it to something. Even the most absurd of songs; “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix A Lot,” it brings me back to the Roseau lunch room. Kristi, Alyssa, and I were sitting at a round table in the middle of the room and Kristi would recite the song word for word. She was wearing one of those velour t-shirts when they were cool.

Everything, everything can be brought back by a song, a lyric, or a beat. Can’t it?

A Mini Auto-Bio.

lgoI finally updated my “About Me” section. Included is the below text. I wanted to share a brief synopsis of my life. I don’t have a sob story and my life hasn’t been full of whimsical travels or anything; but I do have one, a life that is. I have a story. And through this blog; I plan on bringing my story to life. Bring my perspective and my thoughts to the surface. I plan to find me and this is the preface:

I’ve decided to start this new blog for the year twenty fourteen. I haven’t really made up my mind on the exact purpose but I just knew that I needed a fresh start and a fresh outlook. I needed to reassess my life and the way I was perceived based on the lack of life that I put out into the world. I’m on the track to find myself through writing and through living.

I was born and raised in a dinky area near the Canadian border known to most as Roseau, Minnesota. Anyone from that area knows that you’re really not from Roseau; everything around there is pretty much known as the ‘surrounding area.’ For awhile we lived in Salol but finally settled in the country near Wannaska, enjoyed our winter sledding in nearby Malung.  Spent summers in Hockeytown, USA (Warroad) and went to school in Roseau. We were rivals with the Warriors and the Gators but knew everyone from here, there, and in between. 

Looking back, I really miss the shit out of that place. I miss the people, the friends, the freedom. I miss the happiness and the school. The teachers and the sporting events. I miss my grandparents and the restaurants. I miss the memories. I miss it all.

When I was in 9th grade, we migrated to an even smaller town (more like village) called Viking, Minnesota. The same surrounding area thing occurred here. We were a mile from “town,” school was 15 miles (or 8 minutes if you know how to drive on country roads) over in Newfolden. Most everyone who needed or wanted a job would circle over to Thief River or Karlstad which funny enough are in opposite directions. We’d go to the fair in Warren and party by Old Mill.

Reminiscing about my high school days aren’t as enjoyable as my Roseau life. I had a fine time. I made friends, got into trouble, and acquired my fair share of memories but I didn’t love it. I was and always will be the outsider, the new kid. My summers weren’t filled with friendships and no one called me or wanted to hang out with me first. I was usually a last resort. Switching schools mid-high school isn’t really something to brag about unless you plan to be an all-star athlete. Life long friendships had already formed and your lucky to squeeze yourself into a long lasting circle of confidants.

It’s the past though and it’s a period of life that I firmly believe helped form me into the person I’ve become. 

Since high school and actually during, I attended college in Thief River. Due to the uneducated staff and quality of academic standards in Marshall County Central; I really had no clue what I wanted to be when I “grew up” so I just opted for my A.A.

I sometimes bitterly wonder where I’d be in life if we had stayed in Roseau. The school was better, I excelled in all my classes, I was in a great group of friends, all of that. I don’t like to think about it often because than I instantly feel guilt. We moved because my mom had been making a long commute to and from work daily for years and it had taken a toll.

I don’t resent my parents for moving, how could I? I love them. They did what was best for our family structure. It just really blows that I have constantly had the “what-if” jingling in my ears for years.

Setting that aside, I met the love of my life the summer after high school. We’ve gone through rough patches where the pain and distress in our relationship was worse than an amusement park ride derailing. Thankfully, we’ve been one of the few couples that have fought and fought hard. There were many and I mean many times where we had no one to believe in us. Our families, in their own right, “knew” it wouldn’t last and quite frankly probably wanted it to end. Through the years we’ve lost friends and I myself pushed a lot of people away because of love.

In short, we made it. We pushed through the hurricanes, the tornados, and the tsunamis. I really am not sure where my family currently is on forgiveness and acceptance but it’s a process. There were moments that I am not proud of and there are moments that Channing wishes he could take back but the past is the past. It stays there for a reason. 

What really matters is what is deep in our hearts. We make each other laugh, we see each other through the toughest and the best of times. We care for each others lives and the people in them. We are stronger because of our past and we look forward to another 5 years 9 times over.

I want to one day be a mom of two sweet, healthy, little babies, live in the country in a beautiful home with hundreds of acres of land. I want to have two dogs and a cat. I want my children to go to a good school and be raised with love, morals, and respect. I want to dream. I want to write. And I want to travel.

That being said; those are really the key points involving the people in my life. I live for my [family] parents, brothers, and Channing. They are my world. I have many dreams and goals both personally and professionally. You’ll get a peek if you just bare with me.