Posted in In a Small Southern Town

Dating a Marine in a Small Southern Town

Hello humans of the internet! As you might have noticed, I’ve been dating my marine for a little while now. And let me tell you the people of this small southern town, have a thing or two to say about it. The following are real conversations I’ve had with real people.

  1. The most common among adults who know both of us. Not that we aren’t adults but people who were adults when we met.

When people find out I’m dating someone they are first, relieved because I’m 24 and they thought I’d die alone, then they ate very, very curious.

“Anyone we know?”

Yes it’s Schulz. We were friends growing up his parents live just over there.

“Oh, I thought you went to public school.”

“Yes, I did. We met at the theater.”

“What’s he doing, did he ever go to school? I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Well he’s a Marine.”

“Really?” They are always incredulous, “they skinny boy? He’s so little.” Or “I must be thinking of someone else.” Or some other variation of surprise. This is about the time I feel like I’m dating Hiccup from How to Train Your Dragon.

2. The most common among peers who know both of us after seeing our relationship status on facebook

“Wow, did not see that coming”

Thank you?

“No like really. I had know idea you liked each other. That’s crazy.”

We do, I say while thinking, I mean, we’ve liked each other since high school, it’s not like we were flirting subtly back then, we were 17.

“Seriously, though, you like him? He’s kinda you know….”

Yep, I like him, that’s why we’re dating.

“I was shocked when I saw that on facebook. I just don’t understand it.”

This is the point where I feel even more like I’m dating Hiccup from How to Train Your Dragon.

These interactions make me want to scream because they are clearly still picturing the awkward 18 year old he was the last time they saw him. The thing is, that wasn’t yesterday, that was 5 or 6 years ago. Also, I thought he was cute when I we were 17, please stop insulting my man.

3. This one is usually well meaning people who only know me.

“If your boyfriend is a marine, why aren’t you married?”

That’s kind of a personal decision.

“I’m not being ugly, I’m just asking. I mean wouldn’t it be better for you to just go get married.”

We don’t think that’s the best decision right now.

“I just don’t get it. Why aren’t you married?”

Unfortunately, it would be rude to scream, why do you care so much?

4. This one has only happened once. I was wearing Schulz’s shirt because he’s deployed and I like wearing it.

“I love that shirt.”

Thanks, it’s Schulz’s.



“Just eww”

I am still confused by that interaction.

5. This one has also only happened once. I made a shirt that’s red with a gold glitter Marine symbol and the words “I will wait.” I wear it every Friday while he’s deployed.

“That’s kind of an ugly shirt.”

Thanks, I’m wearing for my boyfriend because he’s a marine.

“It’s still ugly”

Well, I’m wearing it while my boyfriend is deployed.

“That’s a dumb reason to wear a shirt.”

Unfortunately, this interaction happened at work so I just smiled and continued asking about their order.

6. The ever popular

“Why is he away?”

Because he’s a marine

“Why is he a marine?”

That is his job.

“I could do that”

Be a marine?

“I mean that either, but I can’t imagine dating one. Why would you want to do that?”

I love him and that’s just what his job is.

“I would never let (husband/ fiance/ boyfriend) do that.”

Honestly, I have no idea how to respond to that. And frankly, that’s rude. Why would you say that?

This has been my experience dating a marine in a small southern town. I know some of these are true of any relationship. But all of them feel a little invasive.

Posted in Dys-Adventure

Thoughts while opening boxes

Hello humans of the internet! As I’ve mentioned before I work for a company that primarily screen prints shirts. Due to the nature of the work, we get a lot of shipments. We have to order shoes to be screen printed, ink, a bunch of different chemicals, vinyl, office supplies, ect… it takes a lot. Anyway, I open a lot of these boxes. I don’t know if you’ve ever opened 8 boxes of t shirts, but it gives you a lot of time to think so here is what I think about.

  • That’s a lot of boxes
  • 1..2.3..4.5..6…..7…….I lost one
  • Nevermind, 8 is just small
  • Okay *checking packing list like I can read*
  • Dang it, I don’t know what that says
  • Okay pretend you have to pee, walk away get centered, you got this. You can totally read.
  • Alright so blue, 12 blue
  •….. that one’s folded weird.…..8? Oh wait. Okay
  • 15 blue ladies.
  • You know, the tag always specifies when it’s ladies cut but not when it’s mens cut.
  • I guess anyone can wear mens shirts but not ladies shirts.
  • There’s no real reason why men can’t wear ladies shirts.
  • They’d have to adjust what size they buy and it might not be as comfortable.
  • But when women buy mens or unisex clothes sometimes they have to adjust the size and aren’t as comfortable.
  • Women ordering shirts always have to sit and figure what size they need to get because of the different cuts.
  • I hate wearing mens or unisex xsmalls because they fit everywhere except over my hips and then they’re just stretched tight the and do the thing where they are determined to become a crop top.
  • Isn’t there something in the bible about not wearing men’s clothes?
  • Is that a miss quote?
  • I don’t think I’ve read that part.
  • Honestly I’ve missed a lot.
  • I need to get a audiobook bible.
  • An audiobible
  • Oh my God is that a spider.
  • No that’s thread
  • I need groceries.
  • I need an audiobible

I hope you enjoyed this little stream of conciousness. I feel like I write these a lot because I like to, is almost like poetry in a way that is very little like poetry.

Much love


Posted in Dys-Adventure

Am I Disabled?

Hello humans of the internet! Let’s all just take a moment to laugh at several months ago me who thought that she didn’t have to be defined by dyslexia. Today I am asking a question that I have been asked and that I have asked myself. Rather, it is a question that I have been forced to ask myself after rather uncomfortable encounters. As you see from the title the questions is: Am I disabled?

So, am I disabled?

Well that’s a complicated question, isn’t it?

What brought this question into my mind?

That’s a lot easier. Several years ago now, I was in an airport. I don’t think I’ve told this story before but it was quite a while ago, so maybe. I don’t think I’ll include which airport because outside of this one man, it was a fairly comfortable airport experience. But, this one man was very stressful. As you might have noticed, I’m dyslexic. I’m about to go on a brief tangent about what my personal dyslexia is. If you don’t care about that, skip the next paragraph.

My technical diagnosis is an orthographic processing problem/dyslexic. I had to sit through more than 6 hours of testing. Yes you read that correctly, 6 hours. I was diagnosed at 15. The doctor told me that she had consulted with 9 of her peers while reviewing my tests in order to come up with my diagnosis. It was explained to me as dyslexia, but I had developed a lot of coping skills so, I didn’t show up as quite dyslexic on the test. So, potentially, if I’d been diagnosed younger, it would have been a lot easier to diagnose. Basically what it means is that I have all the symptom of dyslexia, but somehow I managed to learn some kind of weird way to read. Now, this is important I feel for the first question: am I disabled and the story about the airport.

So back to the airport, when I got the ticket we called the airport and they gave me number that I was supposed to present at the special assistance desk and then they would take me to my gate. This was something that I really needed because having reading difficulties makes it really hard to find large colored signs with numbers on them. When I’d gotten through security, I started looking for the special assistance desk. I couldn’t find it. I eventually went to a security gaurd and asked them where to find the special assistance desk. He pointed and told me to look for a sign. I ended up asking another security guard and he looked a little confused and pointed at a giant sign with an arrow that was about 4 feet away from me. I followed the arrow. And here’s the thing: it was nearly impossible to find the special assistance desk and it was quite a long walk from the front. Finally, I found the desk, I wasn’t sure that this was the desk because it was so isolated and hard to find. I reached in my purse and pulled out the number I was meant to present to the special assistance desk. I held out the paper with the number and said, I was told to find the special assistance desk and give you this because I need help getting to my gate. The man sneered “you don’t look disabled.”

I froze. The man just went back to what he was doing and completely ignored me. I didn’t know what to do. Honestly, I just sat there for a second. Then I turned around and walked away. I didn’t know what to do. The signs were all yellow with blue and blue with yellow and that’s one of the hardest color combinations for me to read. I ended up following my own advice and finding someone who looked grandmotherly and asked them. I walked up to someone and said, I have dyslexia and I can’t read. Then showed them my ticket and they pointed me in the right direction.

Which brings me back to the one statement that has been bugging me for years. “You don’t look disabled.” This statement has slowly evolved into “Am I disabled?”

For a long time I didn’t know the answer. According to the Learning Disabilities Association of America, dyslexia is a learning disability. And unless I severally misunderstood, which is possible because *dyslexia*, under the Americans with Disabilities Act dyslexia is typically considered a disability. So, I guess I could be considered disabled by the U.S. government, but I would have to go through a bit of a process. I don’t know that dyslexia is considered a disability in every country, honestly deciphering the “easy to read” version of one set of rules was hard enough for me.

Am I disabled?

The short answer is yes.

The long answer is I am affected pretty much every day by being dyslexic. Dyslexia is a relatively noninvasive disability. I am able to just sort of pretend that I’m not dyslexic when I first meet people and am still getting a feel for how they would react. I don’t do that anymore, I am way more straight up because honestly if you’re going to act like I’m suddenly stupid the moment you find out I’m dyslexic, I don’t want to waste time being friends because that’s not a friend. So, I’m disabled, but I don’t care? Potentially because I’ve always been dyslexic, it doesn’t actually bother me if I’m disabled or not.

Obviously, people’s reactions to dyslexia bothers me. And the things that I can’t do that a “normal” person would be able to easily do still stress me out.

If I could be dyslexic and only encounter people who weren’t bothered if I asked for reading help and not being asked to do any of the things that I just can’t do, then I would be 100% fine with it. It’s hard to explain. Dyslexia is part of the person God made me. This might be a little rambly. To sum up, I’m dyslexic, that means I’m disabled, that’s not a bad thing.

Are you disabled? If you are and feel comfortable sharing, what is your disability and what is the rudest thing a stranger has said to you?

much love

especially much love to anyone who isn’t feeling particularly loved right now.