Number 13

13. Finish writing a book with C.

At the end of May, C and I sat down over glasses of (one of) our favorite wine(s), and she asked me one of my favorite questions any one person can ever ask:

Will you write with me?

Specifically, she asked me to help her write a particular story she was burning to tell. It was a true story, but she planned to change names and embellish, making it what we dubbed faction (fact + fiction). So with the doors open, candles burning, and our planners wide open, we made a way to find enough hours over enough days to finish a book by the end of 2013.

The deadline, while unrealistic to some, was good for us. We both needed the pressure of a due date, but we didn't need to feel so pressured that we caved and gave up. Giving the book as a gift for Christmas was a perfect reason to finish, as well as a solid goal to work toward.

The process began pretty regularly: Wednesdays after work, there we were, writing and editing. We quickly realized that since it was her story, she should spend the week writing, and our time together would be spent editing and adding whatever I thought would be helpful or funny. We pedaled along pretty quickly with a title and 15 single-spaced pages before life interrupted.

Between our vacations and family get-togethers together (she's J's sister), we had events to tend to separately as well. She was embarking on a new journey of competitive running, while I was balancing my work and school. It started to look like someone was conspiring against us and our words, but somehow we still always found a way to meet. In some instances, we had to move the time; others the day. There were even some missed weeks here and there, but somehow we found ourselves in the dead of fall, 30 single-spaced pages in.

At the beginning of November, I was in full-blown new-job mode. On top of that, I had to balance a full load of grad classes. Inconveniently, Thanksgiving found its way into our schedule as well. We saw each other only twice that month, a striking difference from the normal 4-8 times a month we had seen each other since living in the same town. I felt horrible, not only for abandoning C, but for abandoning our book. It was our baby.

December rolled around, and shortly thereafter, I got an email from C.

"IT'S FINALLY DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I knew she had been writing, but the last time I'd seen her, our little novella lay in the 30-something range. The piece she had just sent me was 20+ pages longer..... and all that was standing between releasing the book to our friends and family was my editing every single word with the same diligence I'd had in prior months. The only problem was I also had hundreds of papers to grade AND two giant projects due in less than a week. Shit.

In a zombified stupor, I got through all of my work duties and all of my projects. I started editing until my eyes bled, but it still took me three days to finish revising the final pages the way they deserved. I rushed over to C's house four days before her departure to the Great North where she'd be delving out the first round of the books on flash drives to the family. It was close, but somehow, we did it. And after all was said and done, we ended up with an 83-page novella.

Writing this little book taught me a lot about a lot. I had to learn to be ever-so-reliable because the success of C's story depended on my editorial skills. I had to learn to be patient because quality work takes time, despite my need for instant results. I had to learn to let go of the reigns because this wasn't my story, this was C's story. I had to learn how to work as a true professional team for the first time in my life because no one else has ever treated me as a professional equal before.

Our book might not be Gatsby or War and Peace, but it IS a labor of love (and a little Sedaris-y if I do say so myself). It is one of those gonnas we all talk about doing, and damn if we didn't actually do it.

I am glad I got to help my friend tell her story, but most of all, I am glad to know that with a solid friendship, anything is possible.

If you're interested in reading our little tale, I have a PDF version ready and raring to go! Email, as always, is imgonnadothatgirl@gmail.com.

Pulse Check

If remembering me after my admittedly prolonged absence is not too hard to do, you might remember I turned 26 a few months ago. In honor of that, I decided to evolve the gonnas once again into a cute little list of things I was gonna make happen in the course of a year. I've had the fortune of crossing one of the to-do's off my list multiple times, but I realized that as often as I pulse check my list, you guys might be a little left in the dark. Without further ado, here are my charts, people! Please feel free to peruse them, and definitely let me know if you see signs of infection or impending death.

1. Wake up with the sun at least 180 days over the next year.

I've only woken up with the sun for about a week total so far, but thanks to a new job opportunity, this gonna will slowly start melting away!

2. Fly to visit my sister in Japan.

Not yet, but truly hoping the aforementioned job opportunity will be my ticket to this gonna. I can't wait to see all the beautiful scenery in person I've seen in her photos so far.

3. Finish my screenplay.

I've made some progress here! I'm still closer to the start than the finish, but I am also further from the beginning than I was before.

4. Don't let items I have gathered to create a project sit on my shelf for more than 2 weeks... ever.

This 26-for-26 gonna has been an epic failure so far. I have reminded myself that with all that's going on, it's okay to let this goal slide....... but I still can't help but wish I had the time to stick to my guns. I have done a little better about downsizing and working on what I can here and there, but there is definitely room for improvement before next July.

5. Diagnose and solve my voice problems, then sing publicly when I have the all clear.

I have actually DONE the latter half of this goal (karaoke nights DO COUNT, especially when you sing Les Mis by yourself) without doing the first. While I feel liberated and more ready to tackle this goal, more than anything, I now know that there is absolutely a REAL problem with my voice, and I need to take care of it now rather than later.

6. Get my teaching license.

As long as I keep my nose to the grindstone (and learn to accept that a perfect 4.0 might not be possible with a full-time job AND classes), I should have my license in May!

7. Write one blog every week!

This is the one that really spurred me to update everyone since I obviously haven't been blogging weekly. However, I have been writing a little more here and there overall, which is really what's important to me. I think a more properly worded goal would be "Have 52 new blog entries by next year," meaning if I have the time to write five times in one week, I will. If I have no time to write for a month, that's okay, too.

8. Learn to drive a manual car.

My handsome teacher is currently out of stick-shifting commission, so this is on hold for the time being. 

9. Make 50 YouTube videos.

I've made one. ONE! I've got work to do...

10. Get over my fear of heights by climbing a lighthouse, ziplining, both, or more!

Whereas I once dreaded this gonna, I'm actually kinda looking forward to getting over this fear, or at least diminishing it in my mind. The question remains: what exactly will I be doing to get over this fear? Skydiving is out, but I'm open to other suggestions, y'all.

11. Teach someone something life-changing.

Hopefully I will be doing this every day in my new position. And hopefully, it'll be somewhat tangible so I can report back here.

12. Make a Southern road trip to Texas and back.

See #2.

13. Finish writing a book with C.

We are so, so close to finishing this gonna. We have a self-imposed deadline of early December so we can distribute these bad boys as presents. It's so crazy to think that months ago, this story was just an idea, and now, it's almost finished!

14. Learn how to sew.

I have no idea how to even begin this one, but I REALLY, REALLY want to learn. Help?

15. Go legit camping for a weekend with J and the pups.

This has almost happened a handful of times, but life keeps getting in the way. We must make a note to ignore it for a weekend before it gets too cold!

16. Spend more time with my family.

I feel like I've been doing this, but I don't think I'll be able to properly gauge this until next July when I see the progress I've made over the course of a full year.

17. Do some photoshoots (at least one!) with a professional photographer.

18. Get something published.

I've found some contests for publishing, but so far, none of my already written material meets the criteria. Since I'm not in the position to write something brand new, the search continues... for now.

19. Raise $500 for my business, Southern Sheek.

I haven't raised anything so far. I'll most likely have to save this gonna until closer to the end of the year!

20. Do a Goodwill-level cleanout every 3 months until I only have what I (for the most part) need.

I have done this in off-beat ways, but there is definitely more to do before I can cross this off my list in good faith. I've been consigning some of my stuff with my favorite local store, as well as gathering random items here and there before loading them in bags in my trunk. I guess I need to actually make my way to Goodwill now, right?

21. Let go of toxic people in my life.

I've had to do some of this already, but whether I've really cleaned out the toxicity closet (and whether I've done it well) remains to be seen.

22. Make a weekend trip to a new place, any place.

I've made a lot of weekend trips, but none to a new place so far! Still waiting to find the perfect, cheap destination.

23. Write and send fanmail to all those people who have inspired me along the way.

I have addresses; I just need to get to writing!

24. Meet a sloth!

I actually attempted to do this with J, and my friends L and B, at a local science museum...... BUT THE SLOTH HAD INEXPLICABLY BEEN MOVED TO THE AQUARIUM, which was under construction. P.S. Sloths are great swimmers, so I mean, I GUESS I GET IT, but I really almost cried.

25. Really make 10 people's day - five of whom I know and five strangers.

Hopefully I've done this without knowing, but now that I have the means to pay it forward, I'm really going to try and do a better job.

26. Be thankful and say so at the end of every day.

Despite this one seeming so easy, it's actually the hardest for me. Most days, I am thankful and say so. But there are days when {most} everything seems so bad that it's hard to remember to be grateful for the things that remain intact. I have been doing better lately, and I'm hoping I've trained my brain to stay in that spot of thankfulness.

j WOWW

Sometimes luck finds me. Sometimes that luck is a crazy dangerous infection that only afflicts about 2-3 patients post-wisdom tooth extraction a year, landing me in the hospital for a week on IV antibiotics + another surgery. (MORE ANESTHESIA?! YAY!)

It is a tale I will one day tell with a lot of laughter, but since my face is still semi-swollen and there are many more antibiotics to take, I will just leave you with this video of my transformation into a Jersey Shore character.

You're welcome, America.

But Really...

The other day, I left a comment on my friend Kacey's blog mentioning we should start our own online magazine in case our semi-dashed dreams of being writers start burning at our fingers too badly. I said it in passing, but it stuck with me for some reason. I guess you could say it got me thinking.

Why shouldn't we just go ahead and do that? Why wait for that finger burning? With the insane amount of free web space available and the AMAZING bloggers-turned-friends we have, why not? If we want to write, let's write. Maybe 10 people will read it, maybe 10,000 will. At the end of the day, our little online hub might be filled with just the right voices someone out there needs in a dark moment.

I have a few obvious people in mind for this project – you can find them in my More Words You'll Love section – but I want more of you to join us! If you're interested in really giving this the ol' college try, email me at imgonnadothatgirl@gmail.com.

There's room for everything: humor, videos, art, love and life columns, fashion, pop culture (LOTS OF POP CULTURE), photography, fiction, and everything in between. There are already voices from all over the country, spanning in age and experience, that have something to bring to the table for this project. If you have anything you think the world might want to see but have been holding close, now is the time to let it out into the universe.

The only thing that will need to be decided upon is a theme. There must be a universal something that ties us together as a publication, even if only the fact that we're all bloggers. Help a sista out if you've got great ideas.

No pressure, friends. We're going to do this for fun. We are going to write what we want to write when we want to write it, and you can still publish every word you write on your own blog. If our untitled project takes off, we'll take it from there, but my main goal is to get all of us writing in one place for an audience of other people just like us. They're there. We just have to help them find us.

Whata'ya say?

Video Update Time!

An update of what's going on here at the Gonna blog!

Catch y'all later...

Things Making Me Laugh

1. Parks Bloopers

2. Bad Lip Reading of Twilight

3. A jolly stranger on the elevator who told me to "Have a good day, God bless!" while laughing a rich, throaty laugh, and I could tell she meant it.

4. Revisiting one of the best YouTube videos of all time.

 

5. People stopping their bodies/strollers/walkers/trucks, etc. in the middle of the street at the Moravian Festival and not even noticing that I am about to club them with my fists.

Days in Pictures, Pictures in Days

I feel like I have SO MUCH TO SAY, but never the adequate time to say it anymore. I'll catch everyone up soon, and I'll absolutely have so many gonna and miscellaneous entries set up in a queue ASAP, but in the mean time, my iPhone snapshots from late will have to do.

Miss you all! I'll be back at it soon, god hopin'.

On How to Deal with a Quarter-Life Crisis

If you've been wondering where I am, make sure you're following me at Southern Sheek. I've been posting there a lot to vamp up for a fundraising campaign I just launched last night! I'm trying to be proactive in making my dreams come true. All you women, who independent, throw ya hands up at meeeee...

I've also been a little... how do I put this? Ah, yes... insane. I'm bouncing off the walls with the aforementioned time management struggle, not to mention working my ass off while also trying to start my own business, all while looking like the god damn picture of perfection. Oh, and did I mention I'm turning 25 in less than 10 days?

Quarter-life crisis is a term I became familiar with around my 15th birthday. I'd been listening to that John Mayer kid a lot and when I heard him sing "Might be a quarter-life crisis" in that JAM "Why, Georgia," I thought "Damn, that's stupid. What could you possibly have wrong with your life at age 25? Must be a guy thing."

But as I've been edging closer to the line, piled on years of listening to that song, that album, that singer, I realize just how right he was. How right he is.

In that essence, I have been doing a lot of things to avoid thinking about the big 2-5, or rather, think about it in a glorious light instead of a holy-shit-I'm-old kind of flicker.

• I have decided to dye my hair for the first time in my life. That's right, my hair is straight VIRGIN, and while I'm not trying to completely change my hair identity, it would be nice to change up my look for the next quarter of life.

• I have been trying to replace everything in my immediate space. I'm not going to buy a new family or dump my boyfriend, but I do want to buy a new computer, and paint all the walls everywhere, and redecorate ALL the things, and make new stuff, and buy a totally new wardrobe, and finally get a "new" car, and...

• I have been questioning my life choices. Like "Maybe I should be a pauper, attempting to act my life away," or "Maybe I should have kids because I'm so close to death now and all of life's fun is gone." You know, the good stuff.

• I have reaffirmed my life choices. But then I remember I want to drown most kids in a bath, I am already poor so I can do whatever I want anyway, then drink a beer and watch "Steel Magnolias" while crying my makeup off.

• I have been making everyone around me question their own sanity. I can't tell you how many times J has looked around a room, searching for real life, when I've been on a diatribe about how annoying it is when girls wear sandals to float down the river. BUT REALLY, WHY AREN'T YOU WEARING TENNIS SHOES?!

• I have been sleeping really early then really late. I go to bed really early. I go to bed really late. I don't know.

• I have been hobby crazy. I am remembering my love for photography, design, crafts, video, writing, baking, etc. all at the same time. It's an avalanche pressing harder and harder on my brain as they all compete for time and space.

• I have been trying to make giant life plans. Trip back to NY? Trip down south to meet and visit friends? FINALLY take an adventure to Europe?! Buy a house? SURE, LET'S DO IT ALL RIGHT NOW!

• I have realized that my life sucks. I am 25 and have barely had a year of job experience under my belt. I don't have my own things. I don't live like a Kardashian. Life!!!!!

• I have realized my life is AWESOME. I am 25 and I have done an entire mountain of things, I have crazy cool people who love me, I have ambition and drive, a giant to-do list, and I'm on my way to greatness. Besides, I still have five more years before I have to give up that title of "20-something."

All-in-all, I've realized 25, while scary, is going to be the best yet. Ring in my quarter century at the beach with my family, good food, presents, and cocktails? Don't mind if I do.

Come home to celebrate 1-year with my lover boy? I'll take it.

SURPRISE PARTY FOR THE BIGGEST MILESTONE BDAY OF MY LIFE?!?!? There better be, bitches. There better be...

Crazy Optimist

The other day, I thought about all of the weird things that happen to me and the even weirder way I react to them. I realized that even though I hate insensitivity, unkindness, bigotry, etc., that I am still kind of this crazy optimist. Case in point: my adventures learning how to ride a motorcycle.

I mean, hell yeah, I got frustrated and cried at one point because THE BOYS WERE LAUGHING AT ME, AND THE KICK STARTER WAS REALLY HURTING MY LEG, AND THEY WEREN'T EVEN TELLING ME HOW TO DO ANYTHING?!!#@* But after that mild set-back, some water, and some teaching, I was ready to get back on that beautiful vintage piece of ass.

I had already ridden unassisted twice, and now that I had an idea of how to get the damn thing going, I was feeling good. I decided to drive around the yard before we returned to the trails, just so I could get the hang of it all. I took off, kept control, and did my first turn cleanly and without fear. I got a little excited, almost pushed the wrong brakes, and instantly freaked out as I realized the giant magnolia tree was getting bigger and bigger. I tried to get my foot to the back brakes in time, but all I could do was scream and thank god that little bike stalled out the moment you let go of the throttle.

I instantly started laughing. The boyfriend came running over, friend in tow, and they were already in tears as well. We finally rolled the bike out of the branches and I think invigorated by the humor of it all, I immediately kickstarted the bike for the first time all day. I felt better than ever, so excited that I could maneuver a machine I'd never been on in my life, I was in control, and OHMYGOD MY FEET AREN'T EVEN NEAR THE BRAKES AND THE TREE IS ONLY FIVE FEET AWAY!

Bam. I crashed again, this time two feet from my previous crash site and about half a foot from an incredibly "I'll impale you" looking branch. We all laughed again, documented it for posterity, and I decided to walk the bike well away from the tree before giving it another go.

At the end of the day, I walked up to the tree and searched for the perfect bloom on that bitch. The boys got it down for me, and I took it home.

Moral of the story?

(Many more of these self-created Crazy Optimist memes will make their debut soon, so stay tuned!)

The Life of an Afterthought

It's hard to admit you might be least loved in a group of people, but it's something I've always struggled with. This might sound whiny or paranoid as shit, but either way, it's something that I've dealt with my entire life and only recently come to terms with.

I am the last on the call list for almost every one of my pals. I don't blame them, what with my horrid phone skills, but I also don't really understand it. I don't know if their behavior is actually punishment for my independence, a double-edged sword that spawns a lack of reliance on others for periods of time, but it sure seems deliberate. Maybe I'm crazy, but I'm tired of finding things out from some mental case I don't even like or a website. Really, I'm just tired of being the last kid invited to the sleepover.

I know everyone purportedly feels this way. My family members have told me they've felt like this before. A friend told me recently everyone feels like this and it's never true - maybe she's right. My boyfriend challenges to say that he is even lower on the totem pole than I. Still, even with J in tow, I can't shake the feeling that I'm right about this whole, shitty thing.

Because I've dealt with this for years, in recent months I've just been trying to let it go. This has involved a lot of random tears and upsets, because in a sense, I'm mourning. I'm mourning the relationships I thought I had and accepting them for what they are. That's not to say they are any less important to me now, I am just no longer functioning in a delusional tunnel of "OHPLEASEPLEASEMAYBEEEE!?!?!"

It's okay that I get the last phone call, the last invite, the last plate of food at a restaurant. It's okay that I am an afterthought. It's okay because that means I can choose my forethoughts instead of feeling obligated to stretch myself until I'm too thin to be any good to anyone.

This is not a declaration for pity because I don't want anyone's. I've finally stopped pitying myself, and that's all I need. Sure, sometimes this notion of afterthoughtness makes my blood boil or a tear fall from my eye, but I know after that feeling is gone, I will no longer wallow in my one person pity party. Why? Because I've made peace with it, and I finally put on my god damn big girl panties.

I quoted the Avett Brothers not too long ago. You know, the one that went "I wanna have friends that I can trust, that love me for the man I've become, not that man that I was?" That's been running on a pretty consistent loop in my head in recent days. And just like that song, it's a little sad, but mostly true. All of this just means one thing: I'm growing up... again. I'm ready for it even if my inner-psyche is still a child who wants to play all day and eat a gross amount of junk food.

Adult Rachel will carry on in her life of an afterthought and in her workday now (more on that later), but Kid Rachel will daydream about television and another beachy vacation (more on that later, too).

The Full Gonna Experience

Since I recently signed up for another service, I figured now would be a good time to get everyone caught up on where exactly The Gonna Girl is hanging out on the Internet. I know most of you who follow me have long known about my various media outlets for this blog, but I have to keep my new readers in mind! Bear with me, Gonna Vets.

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

If you're not using bloglovin', do it. I seriously don't understand how I lived without it! You can follow my blog there as well.

If you're not already following me on Facebook, Twitter, or Pinterest look for the buttons to the right with their coinciding names. These will lead you to the accounts so you can follow me for updates and exclusives not seen here!

 As for Instagram, my site button will lead you to a Hashgram account so you can actually see all of my photos, regardless if you're an Instagrammer. If you are the latter however, follow me directly on Instagram at – what else? – thegonnagirl.

My contact information is found here. Use it!

Now that'll be all for a while, folks. I'm going on VACATION!!!!! I'll be at the beach in a swanky little house with my man and a bunch o' pals. It's gonna be amazing, but I'll miss my blogees!

(I've got some entries on deck, but who knows if they'll actually publish when/where they're supposed to. I guess you'll know before me, right?!)

Have a lovely week, darlings. I'll be back!

P.S. I've hit over 10,000 views! Thanks, y'all.

Gonna What?

While waiting patiently for some dentistry coverage war to fizzle out, I haven't really known which of my harder hitting gonnas to work on. Sadly, I haven't the money for most of them. Others of them need tons of preparation, both mentally and physically. I pondered over my little list, which hasn't grown at all – oops? – and realized I've already done one of them.

I know, what? Like why haven't I been toasting champagne to myself in celebration?! Why am I not lying on a chaise lounge, being fed grapes by lots of admirers from the far ends of the earth? Because I didn't even realize this gonna was on my list. My bad.

See, I'd kind of slipped it in there in this extremely vague fashion. The bullet "Bad health" with some indecipherable-to-everyone-but-me notes parenthesized beside it could mean a million things. Do I want bad health? Is it the name of a shitty little rock band I love?

Though I'm sure you've picked up on my myriad of health issues, and the anxiety it's caused me, and the hatred for most doctors I now have, and my inability to do anything I want, AND... anyway, I digress. The point is, I made it a gonna goal to FIX what I deemed as my "bad health." While I have miles to go since I was so deep inside the pit that is rock bottom, I'm happy to say I'm now bivvying on the mid-side of that pit. Inadvertently, of course.

It all started after a holiday season of overindulgence. J and I were tired of looking at our newly transformed bodies, despite the fact my mouth still watered thinking about all of the awesome food we'd ingested over the months prior. We decided to do something about it, and it didn't take us too long to arrive at the inevitable conclusion of gym membership.

We signed up in February, and though we've had our fair share of obstacles here and there, we've done pretty well keeping up. We aren't there everyday (yet), but I can see the changes, and oh man, can I feel 'em.

The fact I have to pace myself due to my ever-sensitive heart gets me weird, judgy looks from gym snobs, but I don't really care because I'm feeling so much better. I've found what works for me and will continue to work at it 'til I find the optimal regimen. Oh, and just because I pace myself, Tapout Frat-King, doesn't mean I haven't lost almost 20 pounds, toned my muscles, increased my strength, and decreased my heart issue flare-ups. Suck on that, penis breath.

In addition to working on strengthening my body inside and out, I've been trying really, really hard to kick my sugar addiction. The one food I crave all day long is ice cream, and I could literally eat an entire quart without feeling regret or nausea. Not only did I want to move off of my toning plateau, I wanted to stop waking up with the shakes for birthday cake every morning. I still nab some sugar on special occasions, but otherwise, I keep Stevia in my cupboard and only take shots of juice instead of my favored Big Gulp serving.

So with the help of some lean protein, a pretty nifty little gym, a distinct lack of sweets, and cutting out all of that gross-but-I-love-it food I randomly crave, my once fragile little body is actually kind of normal again. I can run sometimes! I can help my boyfriend lift huge boxes without straining! I could challenge Michelle Obama to an arm off! (She would win, but I'm almost there, thanks to her inspiration.) Rawr.

Ladies and gents, another gonna off the list. However, this is one I'll always be working on, and I'm starting to love doing just that.

Health, love, and happiness... or some shit like that.

Amendment One

Down here in lil ol' NC, there's an amendment being voted on today. While it is masked as an amendment concerning gay marriage, its wording has far more repercussions than that. It threatens the well being of all families in this state, no matter what color, sexual preference, or religion they may be.

After trying to calmly stand against this amendment and its harmful implications, I finally released my inner-lioness on a bunch of strangers when they started using shaky evidence to "support" their discrimination. Despite the fact it felt really good to take them down a peg, I know there is no reasoning with unreasonables, and I should maintain my intellect (and my temper) when trying to sway someone from being an asshole.

The point is, I'll be walking out my door in a few hours to go to the church where I'll vote AGAINST this amendment. I will vote against it to protect strangers across this state, to stand up to bigotry, and to protect my own relationship, as well as my sister's.

I'm in a hetero relationship. My sister is in this thing people have dubbed as a "homosexual" relationship, though I can tell you there are many more terms she and others like her would rather you use. I'm slightly luckier, but not by much, because there isn't already a law in the state constitution that could one day ban me from marrying. Yes, you read that right. There's ALREADY a law in place that makes gay marriage illegal here. It's in the NC state constitution. So why the extra discrimination? What's up with the double-up on prejudice? Your guess is honestly as good as mine.

See, the reason I'm only slightly luckier is because if this law passes, my relationship will be be just as invalid as hers under the eyes of the law. If my live-in boyfriend gets injured in our garage while working on his bike, I can't ride in the ambulance and give the EMS his medical history because we're not married. It doesn't matter that we love each other deeply. It doesn't matter that I could maybe save his life with the information I have. None of it matters if this amendment becomes law because our relationship will be, frankly, imaginary to them. Comparing our extremely real relationship to the likes of mythical creatures like unicorns because we don't have a sheet of paper validating our relationship doesn't sit well with me.

From what I've read, seen, and listened to, the people who are for this amendment have based their opinion heavily in one religion. Not only does this go against our country's entire foundation of freedom of religion, but it vastly oversteps the idea of church and state ABSOLUTELY being separate. The small group of people in this particular sect of religion are not even backed up by the majority of their brethren because most people, despite religion, call discrimination when they see it. If you're unable to realize that kind of thing, let me tell you: Amendment One is an overreaching law that is 100% discrimination. It's 2012, not 1912.

I understand how scary it is to embrace change, but some of the best things in life come from it. Most of the people who think this amendment is a good idea are so uncomfortable with the unfamiliar that they are willing to risk the lives of thousands of innocent citizens to stay protected in their "safe" little bubble. That's not right. They are not only hurting the rest of us, but severely damaging themselves. I feel sorry for them because they will never find true happiness by staying the same and hurting others. Love and compassion are where it's at.

Even if this amendment threatened only gay marriage, – it doesn't, (see the list below for other parties who will be impacted) – who is anyone to say that someone can't love who they love? Who is one person to say that another person's relationship is less valid, less "right?" One woman I came into contact with said she "believed in her own marriage, but didn't understand why 'they' needed to get married? Did the paper mean that much?" I told her to rip up her own marriage license if it didn't mean anything. It's not right for this woman to believe SHE can get married, but anyone who does things she doesn't understand or is afraid of, can't.

I'm voting against Amendment One today to protect the people who could lose everything with this amendment's passing. I am voting against to protect my own relationship. I am voting against to protect the rights of my fellows citizens, not take them away. I am voting against to give my sister a chance of one day being able to marry who she loves, because good god, why not?

We have given women the rights they deserve. We have given other cultures and races the rights they deserve. We should not hesitate to give NC children, women, elderly, and citizens of all sexual persuasions the same rights and protections. We need to move forward, not back. We need to love, not hate. We need to ensure equality for the future.


I have lost friends over this and am not afraid to lose more. Standing up for what is right is more important.

Happy Star Wars Day!

“There was an old man in a cloak carrying a glowing blue sword, a man dressed entirely in black with a helmet like a dog’s face and a glowing red sword, a young blond boy in pyjamas, a cool-looking guy in a waistcoat firing a big pistol, a similarly armed girl in a white dress, a gorilla, a dustbin with legs, and a gold homosexual.”

- Simon Pegg, on first seeing Star Wars at age 7

From that sexy scoundrel to the moment I KNEW Darth would finally come around, Star Wars has been a huge part of my life. I've already admitted my love for Han, started a Yoda blog, and boasted my picture with Chewy, so I don't think I need to say how often SW runs through my mind. These pieces of art and photos can declare my love more brilliantly than words every could.

May the Fourth be with you... always.

(R2D2 in Helvetica - David Benoliel)

(via canv.as)

(Behind the Scenes still)

( A note from George Lucas to James Cameron when
Titanic dethroned Star Wars at the box office. )

And the grand finale...

(AT-AT Day Afternoon - Patrick Boivin)

... And Now for Something Completely Different

As erratic of a blogger as I can be, this is what I love to do. I love to write, and I find myself struggling over why I'm not doing more of it. I'm struggling to find out why I'm not making a living out of it when frankly, it's the only thing I have worth giving to a company or a consumer. I'm a jack of all trades in other veins, but I am only a master of one: the written word. I'm tired of pretending I'm not. I've got to surrender to the letters, darlings.

I am doing the best I can by creating relevant social media accounts for the duality of this blog, the spicy (Gonna Girl) and the sweet (Southern Sheek). I update Facebook frequently, I tweet when I find something particularly fun, and I pin my heart out when I find the best of the best photos, crafts, and fashions. I spread my blog by word of mouth, though admittedly, some business cards would help the lengthy domain name stay with peeps a little longer.

Candidly? I just can't do it alone any more. I'm not getting the response I want, the response I've come to find I need to take a real shot at this thing.

This means that while I want to keep my site as personal and interactive as possible, I need the help of all of you to spread the word about my blog. That's right, you! You lovely folks can help me without much effort at all. And did I mention I'd be appreciative beyond compare? I would consider turning you into an item of worship. Oh, and probably find a way to set up some awesome giveaways when we all meet our goals. Eee! I love teamwork.

Ways My Readers, Far and Wide, Can Help My Dream Actualize

1. Talk to me. Tell me what you love, what you hate. Tell me things on other sites and blogs you love that you would really enjoy seeing here. Tell me everything! I have a tab dedicated to Contact Info, and have included a link to my email address in the first sentence of this numerical bullet.

2. Spread the word to FIVE of your friends, family, pets, frenemies, etc. If you just send them a text or an email, or jot down my web address on the back of their Walgreens receipt, we can make this happen. (Don't forget to tell them to pass the word along if they like what they see!) I've even taken a moment to write a very basic template of what your emails could say if you're lost on words:

"Hey there, friends! I know some of us talk everyday. Others of us are catching up! Whatever our status, I'd really appreciate it if you checked out my friend Rachel's blog. I enjoy reading it because [insert your opinions]. You will too! I've included the link below:
The "I'm Gonna Do That" Girl [and/or] Southern Sheek
Thanks for your time and spread the word if you like what you see!
xoxo, [insert your name here]"

3. Promote both blogs if you wish, but no obligation. Most important is to PICK WHICH BLOG YOU WANT TO PROMOTE! While I'd love for it to be this one, I realize Southern Sheek has more appeal as a "themed" blog.

4. If you do want to promote The Gonna Girl, please make sure people understand the kind of language I use and the topics I cover. While you all know most of what I say is from a place of humor or passion, some might not understand without a warning first. If you don't want to bog down your friends with all of this info, just tell them to check out the About page when they first arrive. That's what it's there for!

5. Submit, submit, submit! I love to share the words, photos, jokes, advice, etc. of others. You can do that at the Submit page.

6. Let you blogger pals know that I promote my friends/reads in a lovely area called More Words You'll Love.
==

I promise if you work with me a little, we will all feel a great return. I will feel indebted to my readers, which means I'll hook you guys up with some pretty sweet blog features and giveaways. You will get more entries out of me with better material since I will be able to dedicate the amount of time to these partner blogs the way I have been longing to. Together, you, me, and the new arrivals, will create a great, interactive community where we can all support one another in our vast array of creative endeavors.

So please, take the time to help out your friend, the writer of this blog you keep returning to day after day. If you guys love it, there could be more souls out there who are missing it. I can't stand that thought.

I'm kicking off this May with a feature on my Twitter, Photo A Day May by Fat Mum Slim. Follow the experience on my Twitter, and check it out for yourself if you'd like to participate.

Expect many more great things to come.
I know we can all do this. I'm rooting for us!

A Love Letter to Aubrey O'Day

And by love letter, I mean I want to fist fight with you in a parking lot, high school style.

Alright, yeah, I did go through the Danity Kane phase because that's when I was single and liked to dance around a lot with my girlfriends, and you guys had some catchy tunes. You opened for Christina Aguilera when I finally got off my ass to go see her, and you didn't lip sync, so I was like "Cool, whatever, I guess I don't hate any of these reality-turned-pop star bitches even though my intellect totally wants me to."

You vanished from my consciousness as fast as your band did from the media's eye. I don't even have your tracks selected on my iTunes anymore because I kind of don't want to be reminded of you. Your band is one of those "I'll listen to it with my BFFs when we're drunk and feeling nostalgic for crazy" kind of things. DK isn't even tied to anything in my past that means, well, anything because you and your chick back-ups were reserved for nights of black-out drinking.

I happened upon you again when my boyfriend started to record Celebrity Apprentice. Aside from finding the show extremely out of character for J, I decided to watch. Hey, if he likes it, maybe there's something there aside from an extremely laughable combover in a board room.

And there was. There is. It's you. And I don't mean that in the same way as I do your co-stars. I want to snuggle Arsenio Hall and Clay Aiken and their bromance close to my bosom. I want to become Dayana Mendoza's best gal pal because she's the cutest motherfucker I've ever seen. I want to punch Debbie Gibson in the nose, sure, but you take the blood-boiling cake. You are the craziest bitch I have never met in my life, including but not limited to a pool of women like your co-HBIC, Lisa Lampanelli.

Last night as we were catching up on our not-so-guilty pleasure, I had to soothe J from throwing the remote into our TV, more accurately at the precise spot your face was appearing. You set us off into discussions about two-faced women that last the entire two hour duration of your show, impressing us more and more each moment with your unfaltering capacity for selfishness. You think you are the queen of the world, but I don't think I even have to take the time to say you're not.

Not only do you look like you were born and raised on the runways of a gentlemen's club, you stand for literally everything I don't like about mankind. Talk about a gal who needs to read everyone's Everything Card! You are egocentric and cruel, with zero regard to meaning what you say. I hope you're sobbing on your couch over a tub of ice cream, crying your shitty mascara off as you watch footage of yourself from this season of "reality" and realize what a suckage of resources you are.

So here's to you, you orangey-red beast of plastic. I hope somewhere you're stumbling around on your trashy lime-green stilettos, singing about yourself in the voice that's a former shell of its once debatable glory, because I know no one else is. I guess when all you've got is yourself and your Playboy spread, you have to become your own BFF. Stay crazy, girl!

Guest Post: The Inaugural One

I started thinking not too long ago about how many great storytellers I have around me. Seeing as I often go through times where I can't quite get the words out, I thought "Why not let someone else?" Ladies and gentleman, I introduce you to the newest Gonna Girl feature: guest posts. Feel free to submit your own stories to imgonnadothatgirl@gmail.com.

For the inaugural submission, enjoy this lengthy but hilarious piece by BF's sister. If you like the style of David Sedaris, read on. If you just like to laugh your ass off, read on with the fury of a category five hurricane.

--

Wedding Fun

Thursday

We are to be at Duane’s mom’s house at 8 a.m. to make 14 GALLONS of salads for the reception. Jenny had bought several bags of cubed cheese, and then decided it was too big for the salads and told me to cut it. I ask if she wants it quartered. She gets a confused look on her face and said, “No, honey, I want you to cut it in half, and then half again, and then you will have four pieces the same size. Quarters are big and round like the cucumbers, there is NOTHING round about this cheese!” If a car is traveling 80 miles an hour… never mind.

Friday

'I am not telling you how to do your job, but I am.'

After spending all day Thursday making salads and food for the reception, we head to Salisbury at 8 a.m. We are supposed to check into the hotel at 9:30 a.m. and be at the church at 10, according to our “Ternary.” I assume she meant itinerary. By the way, you cannot make this shit up:

We arrive at the motel and Jenny has a 40-minute discussion with the poor hostess at the desk on what rooms we are supposed to be in. Jenny changes the arrangement four times and keeps saying, “I am not telling you how to do your job, but it is MY WEDDING and I require it THIS way.” When it was my turn to pay for my room, I have a choice of three that are available for our group. The hostess asks where I would like to stay and I reply, “In another county.” I am put in the room RIGHT beside the bride... damn!

Classy

We arrive at the church late after the drawn out check-in process. We begin to unload the fifty boxes of crap that will be used to turn the church into a “dreamy island oasis.” Jenny goes up to the altar and immediately gets into an altercation with the music director because he will not move the drum set off of the altar. Jenny stomps her foot and shrieks, “This is fucked up!” Right there on the altar in front of her future in-laws, Jenny’s true class shines. She proceeds to have one of MANY meltdowns. Relatives rush her out of the church and off of the premises. We continue to unload and try to decorate the church to her taste, or lack thereof.

She returns about an hour later more calm and collected. After taking her father’s credit card for some retail therapy, she is willing to accept the fact that the drums will not be moved. Since eating is not on the "ternary" and we are all scared to leave our designated places, we are all shaking with hunger (and some with fear). Finally, we are provided with pizza. After a 10 minute prayer, we each get a few pieces of pizza before heading off to the reception hall to turn it into an island oasis, too.

Going Off Like a Bottle Rocket

In October, Jenny and her husband chose to have their reception at the local VFW hall. They toured it several times and determined it was the best place. They negotiated an excellent price and my check to the organization was quickly cashed.

We arrive at the VFW hall, sweaty and tired from decorating the church. When we arrive, I am surprised how many tractor trailers are there. Jenny had arrived before us and I see her going off like a bottle rocket. She is running through the parking lot, shrieking and threatening to sue this SOB for everything from “defecation of character” – perhaps he did shit on her character – to “libel and slander.” It turns out that although the organization cashed my check, they forgot to hold the hall for her and rented it out to another organization that would be there through Saturday evening.


The bride is uncontrollably upset and the manager's offers to assist only seem to agitate her more. The whole crew pulls out cell phones and start a mad scramble to find another alternative while taking turns consoling the bride. At this time, I call work and offer ALL of my vacation for the year if they call and request that I come back NOW! I know if I start walking I could be there by the next morning. 

Collections

Duane manages to find a place for $600. It also requires a $600 deposit that is fully refundable if the hall is left clean. The bride is outraged at this amount and has a MAJOR meltdown because if she spends $1500 (her math, not mine), she will not have enough in her fund for the honeymoon. After almost 20 minutes of screeching and crying, her sister wisely offers her $600 if she will shut up and calm down. We all second that motion!

Volunteers

The bride remains inconsolable and it seems that no acceptable solution can be reached. She begins to shriek that SOMEONE is going to DIE for this, and I stand up and offer my services as the first sacrifice. Others in the party quickly volunteer for this option as well.

Praise God

One of the girls in the group is married to a Nazarene minister, and she calls the local Nazarene church. They have agreed that for a “love offering” of $100 we can use their hall tomorrow. The bride agrees and we all sing "Hallelujah!"

Apparently the entire town spells just like the bride. I cannot locate the church, and I am told again and again that it is on "Eisenhower Road," like the president. Turns out, it is on "ISENHAWER Road." At any rate, we locate the hall.

Most of the crew has to go to the rehearsal dinner. I am one of the few who does not have an official “job” at the wedding, so another girl and I are left to turn a gymnasium into a “dreamy island oasis.” I spend an hour assuring the pastor that I will leave everything as clean or cleaner than I found it, and I will put everything back just like I found it. I pull 27 tables and 158 chairs from every corner of the church and arrange them in some sort of functioning design. I arrange it to have a dance floor, a food line, seating for 158 guests, a cake table, and a gift table while being “island flowy.”

I Hate Girls

Just as I am finishing putting up the 158^th chair, the brides’ friends from her hometown arrive with the wedding food. They decide that the entire layout was flawed and have me rearrange it, and that doesn’t look just right, so move it over here… Um, you know what? I liked it better the first way, or was it the second way?... The most ironic part was a 20 minute heated discussion on the parent table. Some of the girls were upset that it was not at the center. I am biting my tongue because I do not know these people and I am praying that if I am nice enough I might get to eat SOMETHING. It is now around 9:30 and the only thing I have had all day is two slices of greasy pizza.

At 10:00, Duane and the crew arrive from the rehearsal dinner. Duane tried to get a plate for me, but the caterers had already packed everything up and left by the time they walked down the aisle FOUR times! The bride hates everything, and we have to change the layout over and over. The “good” news is that there is cold pizza in the van, and I get to have two more pieces of cold, greasy pizza. I was told that the wedding food was off limits. I snuck a cookie and a piece of ham.

REALLY?

By 11:00 my bad knee is swollen to two or three times its size. There is a good chance I am facing knee surgery, and my knee has caused me issues for more than a month. I have an appointment right after the wedding. As I peel off my jeans that I fear may have to be cut to release my knee, I ask Duane to get me some ice. He goes to the ice machine on our floor and it is broken. He goes to the one on the lower level and it too is broken. He inquires at the front desk and is told that they have been broken for quite some time, but he can check the convenience store right across the street. He goes to the convenience store and they are out! They state that with the motel’s ice machine down, they cannot keep it in stock. He brings me a cold soda so that I can lay the bottle on my leg. I am too tired and in too much pain to even complain or have more than one glass of wine. I go to sleep to the sounds of the room next door, a fairly constant cycle of crying, shrieking and laughing…

Saturday

Mine Mine Mine

According to our “Ternary” for the wedding day, we are to be at the sanctuary at 7:30 so we have plenty of time to get ready. Mind you, the wedding is at 1:00. I stop for a BIG bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit at the risk of the bride’s wrath of my lateness.

Additionally, I make the best decision I have made in weeks! Due to the knee pain, and the pain I knew was coming, I took two vicodin pills. They not only took the edge off the pain, but took the edge off of me.

When I walk into the sanctuary the bride is jumping up and down, shrieking at the top of her lungs that this is HER day and EVERYONE is going to do EVERYTHING SHE WANTS. Believe me, none of us have any doubts about that.

Mama Gopher

The bride selects three minions to be her “Gophers.” She selected a little gopher, a big gopher, and I had the “privilege” of being the MAMA Gopher. As a gopher, you have to get the bride everything she needs. This includes but is not limited to: ice, drinks, make-up, moving her luggage around from car to car as they decide what vehicle to take from the ceremony, putting her in her wedding dress, helping her pee in her wedding dress, and all other duties as assigned.      

As the Mama Gopher, I have the added bonus of babysitting the men who are getting ready on the other side of the sanctuary. My first duty is to block ALL of their doors with chairs and tables – the hell with fire codes – so that they can not see Jenny in her wedding gown. (Heaven knows she is not fearful of them HEARING her!) She also wants every window to the classrooms covered and some of the exterior windows covered. I cannot find any tape anywhere, so I enlist the help of her father-in-law to be.

In All Her Glory

The unfortunate father of the groom is sent on a tape hunt, while I coral the men to keep them on schedule. I hear a scream that does not belong to the bride and a red-faced father-in-law returns with tape in hand. Apparently he had opened a classroom where he knew there was tape, walked in on a bridesmaid getting dressed, and saw her “in all her glory.” As the Mama Gopher, it is now my immediate job to ensure that the men no longer leave a certain two room area.

Penis Envy

Another of my duties is to check on the men every 15 minutes to make sure that they are getting ready. We had to arrive at the church at 7:30 and pictures are at 11:00, so you can understand her concern that the men cannot put on their tuxes in 3½ hours. As I make my way to the blissful peace of the men’s side, I have my first true experience of penis envy: the men are playing ping pong and poker, having fun and laughing. Damn them! As I report back to the bridezilla, ping pong became “prayer” and poker became “spiritual discussions.”

Can’t Stand The Heat

The anointed hour FINALLY arrives. No, not the wedding hour, but the hour that the bride has to be locked up so no one would see her. I head over to the church across the parking lot for the wedding. I am immediately corralled by the pastor’s wife and locked in the kitchen. Apparently, there is some Southern Baptist law that the mothers cannot be seen by the wedding guests until they are walked down the aisle... lest they catch on fire? A few moments later, the other mothers and grandmothers are put on lockdown with me. Duane comes to check on us, but Jenny’s shrieks and screams from another room cause him to run back to keep her quiet.

Nothing better than sitting with the mother-in-law, the future mother-in-law, and the ex-wife in a kitchen that is about 150 degrees! The hour of stifling heat and even more heated conversation (you can only IMAGINE how disenchanted my mother-in-law was) gave me a glimpse into what hell would be like. Just as I questioned that phrase, MY mother came in to join us. Yep, hell…

Hot Stuff

Surprisingly, the actual ceremony goes off without a hitch. The best man ALMOST catches his jacket on fire with the unity candles that were “wisely” placed at a three foot height. (I swear the jacket was singed when we returned it!) And of course, there is a classy deep throat make out session when the couple is told that they can kiss.

Smurf-like

After a million and half pictures, we venture to the reception hall. It is my job to give each guest a small bag of blue rose petals to shower the bride and groom. I open my bag and hold the petals for a few moments, and notice my fingers are turning blue like a Smurf’s. I look around and notice EVERYONE’S fingers are blue, as well as a few kids’ mouths. I lean into the bride’s sister and inquire where they got blue petals. I am told they had to make them. The bride purchased white petals and colored them with bingo dobbers. As my jaw drops, the bride and groom walk in.

The petals are thrown and I can FINALLY eat! I get into line and fill up my plate. I put my plate at the parent table and the Church Lady – the church was “kind” enough to leave someone from their congregation to babysit help us with any questions or issues – comes over and tells me that the petals are staining the floor. I grab a broom and some kids, and clean up the blue petals, their puddles, and the stains.

I return to the parent table to find a drink dumped over in my plate and Duane is nowhere to be found.

To Dance or Not to Dance

Just as I am dealing with the blue petals, Duane is pulled into the church office by the same Church Lady and told under NO circumstances will there be ANY dancing in HER church. Duane explains that the pastor authorized it and even suggested where to put the dance floor. The Church Lady will NOT be deterred. Duane suggests that the Church Lady contact the pastor and speak with him. The Church Lady states if there is dancing, the pastor WILL be fired and she will make sure of it. I think Jenny might have met her match here!

The pastor cannot be reached, so they go to a higher authority: his wife. It is agreed that they can do the bride and groom dance and the daddy/daughter dance. Duane breaks the news to Jenny while dancing with her. I wonder if anyone got a picture of that face...

Thud

After trying three times to eat SOMETHING, I finally give up. Every plate I make is spilled, taken away, or set down as I go put out another fire. I never once sit at the parent’s table that caused such a ruckus. I am shocked when it was time to cut the cake. The bride and groom have decided to be mean and rub the cake in each other’s faces. “Unfortunately,” Justin misjudges his wife’s weight or lack thereof, and while smearing her face with cake, ends up slamming her head into the wall with a resounding THUD. Once it is confirmed that she is ok (I swear, I think she has a concussion), a deafening cheer goes up in the room.

Awkward

As if the day has not been stressful or tiring enough, we have to add awkward. Before all of the guests leave, but as the party was winding down, Duane’s ex-wife, Arleen, grabs my arm and drags me into a closet. Now, Arleen is a close talker – I have made out with people before and not been as close as she is when she talks. Here I am locked in closet with the ex, scared to death that she is going to make a move. Surely you go to hell for making out with another girl in the Nazarene Sanctuary hall...


While she is speaking to me, her lips are LITERALLY brushing my face. It turns out that she wants my opinion on tipping the girls who worked in the kitchen. I mumble a “sure” and run out of the closet, feeling the stares of the guests and the Church Lady. I smile at her and wipe my lips off! She left shortly thereafter. I can only imagine that her prayer list is longer than a floor-dragging skirt.

Silkwood Shower

The party has ended, the guests are gone, and more importantly, the bride is gone and it's time to clean up. Duane is dragged to the church by the in-laws to clean up their sanctuary, and I am left to clean up the reception hall. With help from many of the kids, I clean 158 chairs (only 60 guests showed) and 27 tables. I put everything back just like I found it.

I head to the ladies room to make sure it is clean. I am displeased with the condition and I work to leave it cleaner than I found it. I move on to the men's room and someone has taken a poop in the urinal! I am beyond appalled. I go into the supply room and don a garbage bag over my clothing and gloves. With the urinal clean, I go into the stall and finally understand why someone pooped in the urinal. Apparently, after a child pooped in the stall, he must have “wiped” with his hands because I could see EVERYTHING he touched: the toilet handle, the stall, the entrance door handle. Notably, he did NOT touch the sink or soap, and now I am glad that I missed out on the buffet. I finish cleaning the bathroom, praying for a silkwood shower.

'Communion'

At this point, Duane returns from the church with our vehicle that has two glasses of wine left in a bottle. I pour it into a coffee cup with a lid and go back into the church kitchen to finish my cleaning. One of the family sees me and states that “God will smite you!” She stops and laughs and says, “Oh wait, he already did!” I take my communion into the closet where I don’t have to share it.

Are You SHITTING Me?

Hallelujah, Praise God, it is DONE. Everything is cleaned up, closed up and we are going home! It is 6:00 and we are only an hour away. The caravan starts, and we end up in the back since we are hauling a trailer with all of this wedding crap. The rest of the crew gets about two miles ahead of us and then there is a nasty accident. The rest of the caravan made it safely past, but Duane and I sit in park for a full hour and 20 minutes while the accident is cleaned up. As I sit there dying for a shower, a meal, and a bottle of wine, I threaten Duane’s manhood if he has any more girls.