them feelings.

you know that feeling when you figure out what you want to do with your life?

yeah, me either.

but I have an idea. and I will make it happen. I want to spend my life helping other people, in absolutely any way I can. I'm starting my own homelessness project. I got to spend a couple of hours picking my mom's sweetest friend, Patricia's brain. You could say she works in the human services field :) and she's the best. I was probably in her office 2 hours and it felt like 20 minutes. You know the people you can just talk to? she's one of them. Did you know that Asheville has more resources for homeless people than almost anywhere else in the state? but it's not enough. Did you also know that once you become a felon you're ineligible for food assistance? because criminals don't need to eat. I feel that the sarcasm in that last statement is almost tangible. I have so many thoughts running through my wee little brain that it's hard to get them all out. Thus, I blog. Did you also know that public housing has really strict leases, and say, if Rebecca and I were both homeless and I got public housing, if they found out she was staying with me that I could potentially lose my assistance? I mean, if that were really the case, Rebecca wouldn't be homeless for at least one night. I'm lucky enough to have a family that I know will always be there. We may fight and disagree on things, but I know I won't ever be homeless as long as any of my 4 parents are alive. I know that I (probably) will never be able to eradicate homelessness in Asheville (and the world) but damn, I want to try. My first project is just handing out toiletries,snacks and donated jackets/mittens/etc. Let's be honest, I may cry when I'm helping people out, I mean hell I cried when I was telling Patricia about everything I wanted to do. But it honestly just breaks my heart to know that right now while I'm mentally complaining about how stuffy my apartment is, someone is sleeping under a bridge with possibly an empty belly. No one should have to live like that. America is probably the richest country in the world, if we aren't my guess is England is the richest. Let me just say right now that I'm not very smart when it comes to a lot of things like I have no idea how factual that statement was, I just know that with the amount of money America has, we shouldn't have the problem we do with people not having a place to sleep. So somehow and someway I am going to spend my life working on this problem.

In more fitness related news, I have started weight watchers for the 4th time. I also will be participating in a unsanctioned meet on October 18, and a sanctioned real life spandex required meet on November 1st. maybe. I'm having second thoughts. I think that me and my 32 kilo snatch PR might not be ready for a real meet because I'm pretty sure most girls in my weight class 75+ are snatching much more. I also have successfully completed maybe 1 clean. I like to jerk (that's what she said), but I get nervous I'm going to hit myself in the chin again. In more positive news I can front squat 56 kilos which I believe to be 123 pounds. 135 is my short term goal. Oh! I got my singlet via the amazon for like 30 bucks and I feel like a giant blue m&m in it. I'm a lot harder on myself than I feel like is normal, but that's another story for another day.

I know I don't blog a whole lot anymore, but I get busy with life. I'm going to be 25 years old on the 4th of October. TWENTY. FIVE. What in the actual fuck?! I'm definitely not a kid anymore, even though I feel like one. I wonder if this is what getting old is like? like I don't feel a damn bit different now than when I was 18 except I have a lot more "drawings" as my papaw calls them, on my body and I can legally drink. Which I don't really do, ever.

Anyways, this is where we at. Pretty much where we always are, in a never ending circle of crazy. But for now, I'm off to eat some ice cream and read. Until next time, enjoy yourselves my friends.

nessie out.

I just got famous, ya'll. kind of.

http://weightliftingacademy.com/simply-looking-mirror-brings-tears-eyes-vanessas-journey-obese-athlete/

Ya’ll, my coaches asked me to write a guest blog for their super popular blog portion of their website known as Weightlifting Academy and I never dreamed people would respond so kindly. Thanks for all the support and kind words about my journey, it’s much appreciated. So go check out my write up and let me know what you think!  

all the adventures.

So, it's been a second since my last post. I moved over to a weebly account but I kind of hate that website and I miss the ease of use on blogspot. So now we here, again.

I survived my trip to the north, I act like I went to space. It was such an adventure. The airports were huge (with the exception of Asheville) and I experienced a lot of firsts. I finally got to spend some quality time with Kirsten and Ali, and I got to meet Taylor. Saturday night at the hotel felt like we were old friends. It was seriously one of the coolest things because it's amazing to be around people who make you feel so comfortable, and we were laughing (all riding sugar highs from the cheesecake and various other sweets) and it was in the top 8 best nights of my life. The show was a whole new beast too, I'd never watched a competition live, I've seen hundreds from the world of instagram but that doesn't really count. I got sick before finals because the smell of spray tans, body odor, vendors having various things for you to try, and it was just something I never want to smell again. Kirsten got fourth, and I am so proud of her! she worked SO hard and it definitely showed. I can't wait to watch her compete again!

I have this mental defect, where I get tattoos with little to no thought beforehand. I, honestly, think WAY more about a haircut than a tattoo and it doesn't make any sense. To me, I'm like....it's just skin. But with my hair I'm like OH GOD WHYYYYYY if I get a bad haircut (which has happened more than I'd care to admit) and it's borderline silly how quickly I'll have a seat in a tattoo parlor. However, I am so proud of these tattoos and I love them so much I could cry. My sister had saved letters Zack had sent from rehab, and so on my right wrist I have "I love you, -Zach" and on my left wrist I have "I love you, -Rebecca." and they are by far my favorite. A little piece of them that I will always have. A reminder that my brother loved me so much and my sister always has my back. Let me be clear though, these hurt like a bitch. Brody has done a couple of tattoos for me and he's my favorite artist. He's a super chill guy and OCD about your tattoo. He redid the outline for my left wrist 3 times because he didn't think it was centered. We were talking about our pets, and he was in the middle of the o and v in "love" and I was like "my dad had a dog named boboFUCK FUCK FUCK" and he had to stop because he was laughing so hard. Brody KEPT going over part of mine and he was right, he was like, I know right now you're like damn hurry up but it'll be worth it. And it was. Check them ouuuut

Wednesday, September 3rd 2014 will be approximately 365 days since my brother passed away. He was 25. I can't even put in to words the heartbreak I felt and feel, and will always feel. When you go to look for someone who isn't there, or you see something that makes you think of that person. I saw a thing on pinterest that says "my memory loves you, it asks about you all the time" and wow, mine does. My memory is a blessing and a curse. I remember the morning he died like it was yesterday. Everything started at 430am-ish and by 530 we knew he was gone. And I was sitting in my grandparents kitchen eating an oatmeal pie, and I was upset because it was still dark outside. I felt like it had been dark forever. I couldn't cry, I couldn't do anything. I was making jokes to Kalynn. You know what will never leave my mind, ever? having to call my dad and tell him. I felt like the phone rang forever and when he did pick up, I felt like the words weren't coming. When I heard myself say "Zach died", then I started to cry. Because when you say it out loud, it became real. There are too many questions for me and not enough answers. Was it suicide? was he scared? did he know what was happening? I want to believe that my brother knew exactly how loved he was.  I hope he knows that I would have given anything for him, but right now I wouldn't bring him back if I could. He's not dealing with addiction anymore and he has the peace he so desperately needed. I believe that some people use drugs as a cover up for something you don't have the coping skills to deal with or don't want to deal with. Drugs, alcohol, food, they all can do that. But they're just band-aids over a gaping wound, and until you get some healing for that wound it's always going to be there. I think my heart will always be broken, and I will always wish things had turned out differently. My twin sister was a hero that morning, she did CPR until paramedics arrived when I couldn't do anything but stand there in the kitchen. I wish I could have been as heroic but I don't envy the aftermath of the situation she has to deal with. No one can save you from yourself. My brother succumbed to his addiction, but sometimes what is hard to see is the fact that healing comes in many forms. His demons are conquered and he's finally okay. and I'm left here to pick up the pieces. I'm going to start a tradition. Every year on September 3rd, I'm going to do something for my brother. Be it cook his favorite meal and listen to all his jamz, let balloons go with messages to him, whatever. Something to say that I haven't forgotten about you, and I still miss you. I used to get so damn excited about my birthday, but it's really hard to be excited now. I feel guilty, because I'm like damn my brother is dead YAY I'M 25! I know he would want me to be excited but it just feels so different.

and that my friends is the end of my sob story for today. I'm still lifting as often as I can, 31 kilos is my current snatch PR. I'm not sure about clean and jerks because I just learned to clean like 2 weeks ago and have maybe done it 10 times. I kind of suck at it, and it's not really my favorite thing to do. I think snatching or jerking are tied for #1. Can I also just say that being an adult is way less fun than I'd imagined? Taking care of yourself is exhausting and stressful at times. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, paying bills, working, whew. But I'm also really proud of myself that I have my own car, my own apartment, a job (even if I dislike it)... and I have 4 wonderful parents who always have my back, and I get to live with my best friend. I think all of the above can be summed up like this.

 Life is rough, but it's still good.