Throwback Thursday: Young Ashley gets her heart broken

Every Thursday, I dig out an old diary and share an entry sans editing (in hopes we’ll all see my grammar and apostrophe use improve) with a short commentary. If you like laughing with/at Young Ashley, feel free to use the handy search bar to the right and simply type “Throwback Thursday” and you’ll find the whole archive. Thanks for reading!

Friday September 10, 1999

Dear God,

Oh, I’m confused. At first I thought everything was great with Austin, but now I’m not sure. 

After dinner, Corey and Austin went to Taco Bell and then they went to Walgreens to buy Gelly roll pens. Ali and I went there too. 

On the way home, Austin yelled, “let’s ditch ’em!” So I rode ahead of him and yelled back:

“I’m the one ditching you!”

So we got home and went inside. The boys went outside and Ali and I spied on them on Corey’s balcony. We came down and talked awhile. 

We rode bikes around, nothing much, so I’ll skip ahead. 

Katie called me when Austin and one of Corey’s friends, Caleb were still over. We talked awhile (Me and Katie) Austin kept inturupting me, so I’m like, “SHUT UP AUSTIN!”

After I hung up Austin’s like, “You talk to much on the phone.”

And I’m like, “So? What’s your point?”

“I don’t know.”

Then later Austin was talking to me. He said, “Has anyone ever asked you out.”

“Yeah, why?”

“What did you say?”

“I said no, because or otherwise I’d be grounded for life. I’m not allowed to go to dances.”

“Well what would you say if I ever asked you out? Which I’ll probably never do.”

I just stood there, stunned. Then he rode his bike. 

I went up to my room, kept the light off and looked out my window, I heard Austin say to Corey, “I know! Tell your sister I think she’s really hot! And make it sound real!”

I almost burst into tears when I heard that. I ran to the bathroom and cried my heart out. I put my heart into this crush only to find out that all he said was just talk? Dad was gone while all this happened. 

Dad wanted us to wash dishes so I had to wash dishes. The sink was right below one of the kitchen windows. Right below that window were Corey, Caleb, and Austin. 

I looked out at Austin as he looked up at me and smiled. I didn’t get all worked up because I knew it was a joke. 

As I washed, Corey dried. I knew he was waiting to break the joke to me. He was just waiting for the perfect moment to say his line: Austin likes you. 

He finally said it and I say, “No he doesn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. I heard you stupid conversation so shut up.”

I have reicived my first heart break. End. 

Not unlike Young Ashley's cry face, I'm sure.

Not unlike Young Ashley’s cry face, I’m sure.

It would be nice to go back to the days when overhearing a plans for cruel joke constituted heartbreak. I don’t mean to minimize Young Ashley’s pain – it was all I had really known at the time. I hadn’t yet experienced the collapse of a relationship, so it was as real as a heartbreak could be.

I never really wanted my parents to know anything about my “love life,” so I’m sure I didn’t mention anything to my dad.  The whole ordeal was too humiliating to verbalize. I was already self-conscious, so telling my father that I had overheard my crush tell my brother to tell me he thought I was really hot wouldn’t have helped that.

I said last week that Austin is the reason I’m attracted to men with dark curly hair. We’ll also blame my inability to accept compliments on him. A few weeks ago, I was in an elevator with a man with shifty eyes. He told me I looked very beautiful. I thanked him and then made sure my purse was zipped completely. When he asked if he could buy me a drink, I told him I was on my way to meet somebody.

“He’s a very lucky man to be meeting with a woman so lovely,” he told me.

I thanked him again and then made a mental note to stop inviting conversation with people at public libraries.

Since I’m running on about 4 hours of sleep, my brain isn’t allowing me to follow the trains of thought as they develop. However, the following notes need to be made:

  1. I’m so glad that I no longer write dialogue with “and he was like” and  “so I was like.”
  2. When he asked, I had never been asked out. He was pretty smooth with his “I’ll probably never ask you out” save. I mean damn, that kid had game.
  3. I hadn’t yet understood the difference between plot and story. Everything was told chronologically (unless we’re talking about my father’s presence, apparently that’s something I mention as it’s necessary) and characters were introduced but never developed beyond physical (yet dynamic) description.
  4. HOLY SHIT GELLY ROLL PENS WERE THE GREATEST.
  5. Lea Michele has a great singing cry face. There’s even a Facebook page for it. And it has 700 more fans than my page.
  6. Next time a guy approaches me, I’m going to use Young Ashley’s technique: “I’d like to buy you a drink.” “I’m the one buying you a drink!”

My message for Young Ashley this week? “Interrupting” and “received” are not difficult to spell. You weren’t even close. Get your shit together.

…introducing the new look.

As you can probably tell, Everything is Blooming looks a little different today. It’s not a major change, but just a slight face lift. I wanted the look to better represent the tone and style of my blog. What do you think of it?

If you’re a fan of Everything is Blooming on Facebook, you know that last Saturday night I had plans to drink wine and work with my brother, Corey Otto, on a new picture for my blog. Corey has always been a bit of a perfectionist, and this is reflected in everything he does.

"Paper Cranes"Solid ash coffee table18x38

“Paper Cranes”
Solid ash coffee table
18×38

Eye - Closeup2010Pencil

“Eye – Closeup”
2010
Pencil

Panel 2 of a 5 panel piece titled "Mon Carnet"15"x30"Watercolor, Ink, and Sharpie on canvas

Panel 2 of a 5 panel piece titled “Mon Carnet”
15″x30″
Watercolor, Ink, and Sharpie on canvas

"Show Your Bones"200818"x24"Graphite, Ink, Sharpie on paper

“Show Your Bones”
2008
18″x24″
Graphite, Ink, Sharpie on paper

As you can see, his expertise lies mostly in drawing and painting. Pretty incredible, right? This is also the same guy who can run 5k in under 20 minutes, just to make you feel inferior. Corey studied photography at UW-Milwaukee but got sidetracked by the painting classes, where he really found his stride. He’s continuously working to develop his craft by trying different materials. He makes a deliberate effort for each piece to be absolutely perfect before calling it complete, which is why his studio is still full of paintings he’s not quite ready to part with.

Most of the drawers in the green cabinet contain a piece in progress.

Most of the drawers in the green cabinet contain a piece in progress.

Corey’s art has a sense of softness that contrasts sharply with an urban edge. Some of the pieces are extremely sensuous – especially those in which he studies the female form. But even in these gorgeous drawings, there is a meticulousness to them. I don’t know much about art, but I think he creates a great juxtaposition between darker base instincts and idealism.

"Another Day"201022"x30"Graphite on paper (Strathmore 400 Bristol)

“Another Day”
2010
22″x30″
Graphite on paper (Strathmore 400 Bristol)

Corey also has a talent for photography – something I had almost forgotten until I saw a self portrait he did recently.  It took me about thirty seconds to call him up and tell him I wanted help his with a new photo.

"Self Portrait"

Self Portrait that says “I’m an understated badass. Deal with it.”

So he brought his camera and flash over to my apartment where we turned on some music, drank a few whiskey drinks (not wine), and I goofed around in front of the camera.

Much like Stoic Balloon, Solitary Chair is judging you.

Much like Stoic Balloon, Solitary Chair is also judging you.

Most of the shots we posed made me look like the chubby author of a self-help book. Thus the “Make me look less fat” comment. Eventually, the whiskey kicked in and I got a little dorky. That’s when he got some good shots. Candid is always the way to go. 

Just ignore the ghetto air conditioner.

Just ignore the ghetto air conditioner.

I’d like to thank Corey for helping me out with the photos and the design for the new header. Since he’s always well-versed in Photoshop, Corey brought my idea for the original Everything is Blooming header to life. He also helped create the new one.

If you’d like to see more of Corey’s art, please check out his artist’s page on Facebook by clicking on the image below. There you can view more of his art, works in progress, sources of inspiration, and price information for some of the pieces if you’re interested in purchasing an original.

Corey

I’m like Fat Amy but with introversion.

It’s Friday night and I’m in sweats. I’m alone on my couch. I just inhaled a personal pizza. I’m halfway through my first cocktail. I’m listening to Norah Jones’s discography on shuffle. If I were trying to out-sad you, I’d tell you I was contemplating the beauty of the partially deflated balloon my roommate got for Valentine’s Day.

It’s sort just hovering around a single light. Sort of like that scene in American Beauty with the plastic bag being tossed around by the wind. Poetic, the way it mocks my loneliness.

Judging balloon is judging you and your loneliness.

Stoic helium balloon knows how you really feel

Just kidding. I’m not lonely. My pizza was delicious and my cocktail is refreshing. Vince offered to make me dinner tonight, but I declined. I’ve been craving a night to myself. I say that like I have this incredible social life. Really I’m just figuring out how to be an adult. I don’t know how they do it. I feel like I deserve a parade when I work a full day, go to the gym, shower, AND put my dirty clothes in the hamper.

But I’m not trying to out-sad you. I did that a few months ago, because I didn’t know how to deal with it. I use self-deprecation as a tool for self-preservation. I make fun of my loneliness and sadness before other people can ask me how I’m doing. Sort of like Fat Amy.

Fat Amy

If you’ve been reading for a while or if you know me well enough, you know that about a year ago, I went through a breakup. I was sad and lonely for a big chunk of time. I drank too many whiskey drinks and listened to Ok Go too many times. I ate too much bread and just avoided looking in the mirror. While my roommate was out with her boyfriend, I would find myself sitting alone, unable to do anything but make fun of myself.

True story, just use the search bar to find all my posts on heartbreak and breakup and love and relationships and all those other uplifting topics.

The optimist in me says I was dealing with my situation head-on. But the realist in me knows I was denying the issue and pretending to be stronger than I actually was. But eventually I started to believe myself. I don’t know (or particularly care) what this says about me and my coping capabilities, but eventually I got through it – I became strong on my own. Now I value my alone time. Maybe a bit too much at times.

But you know what? All that matters tonight is how quickly I can get in bed with my heating pad for my hip (I skipped training last week, ran 3mi on Tuesday night, 3.5mi on Thursday and decided I was too cool for stretching), and start reading. And anyway, I’m being responsible. My boss requested I stay in.

Well, sort of.

Well, sort of.

The last time I volunteered to help her out on a Saturday morning project, she (and several of my coworkers) saw my painful recovery from the night I went to a rave. I was so out of it that morning that I didn’t have the mental capacity to lie about where I had been. So when a coworker asked what I had done the night before, I told her, “I went to a rave.” Now, almost two months later, they’re giving me crap for it, constantly making jokes about glowsticks and E.

I bet they’ll have a hard time thinking of something to tease me about when I tell them I read the last 130 pages of Gone Girl alone in my bed.

Bye bye, Nutcracker

For the last four years, I’ve played with my string quartet at The Paine Art Center’s production of Nutcracker in the Castle. What on earth is “Nutcracker in the Castle,” Ashley? Basically all the rooms in this mansion are decorated with Christmas trees and festive touches (nutcrackers). It’s sensory overload in a very festive (and nutcrackery)way. From mid-November until the January, guests are free to go on self-guided tours during the week or go on guided tours on the weekends.

We play on the weekends for the guided tours. Groups are taken by Godfather Drosselmeyer (who is usually mistaken for a pirate at least once a night) through the “castle” to see the rooms and a performance by a local dance studio. Before the guests go on the tour, they gather in a large gallery room to eat cookies, drink punch, play with toys, and take pictures in front of a gigantic tree. This is where we play.

We play the same music for each of the tours (seven on Saturdays, eight on Sundays). It gets old very quickly. Since the tours start the weekend after Thanksgiving, I’m usually in the Christmas spirit and feeling cheerful. But by the time Christmas comes around, if I hear Waltz of the Flowers, I’m about to go ape shit on somebody.

Playing the same music for eight hours each weekend for two months takes a certain stamina. When you’re playing Miniature Overture the 500th time, you recognize that you’re going insane, but you have to stop yourself from actually doing so.

Over the last four years, we’ve found ways to entertain ourselves. Though the players have changed (we rotate a few different violists, just got a new cellist, and now have two different first violinists to pick from), we still sort of do the same things: gratuitously long improv sessions during Arabian Dance, staring contests, adding ridiculous flourishes (super fast single octave scales), and lip-syncing the Drosselmeyer’s monologue. New forms of entertainment this season included the violist signing the monologue, Fruit Ninja battles on my Kindle,  blowfish face ambushes (two of the musicians make blowfish faces and stare at me till I laugh), and stifling laughter at the expense of children who fall over for no apparent reason (yes, that happened).

Last weekend was the final performance of the season. Now that it’s over, I’d like to say that I’ll miss it, but I won’t. I’m not sure I’ll know what to do with myself. If anything, I’ll miss seeing the group. We bonded, not completely unlike the way soldiers do. Hopefully there will be more gigs and even more after-gig beverages.

Nutcracker

Nutcracker at sunset. This was before we got a foot of snow.

 

Music

Curious what my weekends looked like? THIS.

 

Tree

I think this tree is 25ft tall, so it’s probably really easy to decorate. Also, in the foreground is the coolest dollhouse ever. I would have cut a bitch to have this when I was a kid.

 

Nutcracker

These 5ft tall dudes line the perimeter of the first room, so if you’re creeped out by nutcrackers, I’d advise not arriving early for the tour.