Fifteen Year Old Me

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Have I ever mentioned the fact that I've been a blogger since I was about six years old?

My first blog was called the Kitty Kat diaries. 
Jk. But that's definitely something I would have gone for back in '93.

Although in my day I didn't call myself a "blogger", I was actually a "diary'r."
And posts were written in a star covered Limited Too journal, rather than this fancy interweb site.
I will admit, the term "blogger" is much easier (and prettier) to use than "diary'r."
For whatever reason, that term always had slighty negative/disgusting connotations.
When you're sliding into first and you feel a little burst... diary'r. diary'r.

While back at my parents house last weekend I started flipping through some of my old "posts."
I landed on the year 2002. I was fifteen years old.
And because I'm one of those creepy people blessed/cursed with a very detailed memory,
 it felt like it was just yesterday I had written some of that shit down.
(Trust me, it was shit.) Fifteen year old Taylor was such a dbag.

But it's pretty funny to look back and read about what I
thought/worried/got excited about back then, as compared to now.

15 Year-Old-Me
"There is like nothing ever fun to do on the weekends..."
Yes there was, you just weren't invited. Remember those girls who always knew what was going on? They got the call, or the text, or the 411 about the party for the weekend. Yeah, that was never me.

"Why do all my friends have boyfriends and I don't..."
Because you wear XL Mens basektball shorts and Converse tennys to school every day.



"My mom only lets me use her cell phone on the weekends."
Thus the reason you never know what's going on.
But it's okay, she'll let you borrow it to  play "Snake" any time you want.


"Sometimes I just wish I wasn't in sports, then I would definitely be a partier."
No you wouldn't, don't kid yourself. 
 And that feeling you got in sports after a great game or practice is a feeling that no buzz will ever compare to.
#keepkidsoffdrugs
If you google "Homely Nebraska Kids" this is the first photo you'll find.

"I hope I get asked to Homecoming."
You won't. But life goes on. You'll get asked to much better things in the future.

"Why does everyone think I'm so stuck up?"
Who the hell cares.

"I wore my hair in french braids, and then she did the very next day. She totally copied me!"
I think my greatest cause of stress from the ages 7-17 revolved around who I thought was copying me.
It drove me nuts. Why was I such a loser? And why did I still wear french braids as a teenager?

"I just really wish he'd call me."
He won't. Nobody likes to call a cell phone with a mom's greeting on the voicemail.
(Yeah, that's totally why no one called me...)

"Forget college, I'm just going to move to California and get famous."
-said every girl from Norfolk. Or any other small town for that matter.


Yo, Greasy McGee, lay off the bronzer, you got enough natural teenage shine goin on.
But seriously, how cool is my Puka necklace?
Does anyone else feel like my neck looks huge and my cheeks look puffy?
 Perhaps I should have layed off the steroids, after all.

I wonder what 35 year old me would like to say to me now?
I hope it's something along the lines of...

"I told you we'd make it."

Yeah. That's definitely it.


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The Birth Story of The Daily Tay

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Well, it's about that time of year I reflect
on the fact it's my three year anniversary with this here blog.
I know what you're thinking, three years and you already have 590+ followers.
Impressive, I know.
is what someone might think if this was 1993 back when computers were only used for
the Oregon Trail and Where in the World is Carmen San Diego.
I assume this was taken in 1993 so it felt right to post it.
And thank God I got that heart tattoo removed in 2005. 

500 followers in three years in 2012? Not so impressive.
I see all of you with your fancy blogs boasting
"1,000 Followers in four months!"
or
"Help me get to 800, I've been doing this since May!"
My favorite is the,
"I started this blog because all of my friends told me I should and
I'm so blessed for how fast it has grown."
A. No one told you to start a blog. Stop lying.
And if they did, your friends probably need better hobbies, I mean who really goes around asking people to start a blog? Then again, maybe I just have the wrong friends.
and
B. "Blessed" would refer to God.
So if you really think God is responsible for growing your blog....
Well then you also probably believe God is on Facebook, as well. He has better things to do...
(Like Instagram)
Lighten up, I'm kidding.

Truth be told, the reason I actually started "writing online" is a very cute story.
It's probably a very similar story to why all of you started your blogs, as well.
I was in college...
and was locked up in a hospital with several homeless people doing a medical study for money,
and had some extra time on my hands.
(I was saving for Europe, but I'm pretty sure the homeless people were saving for meth.)
I was there for five days and had nothing to do in between blood draws so I started writing "posts."
Although back then I just posted them on Facebook as notes.
Here's a few excerpts to give you an idea of what my posts were like back in '09:

Day 2:
Well I was woken up at 6 a.m. and told that I was no longer an alternate because two of the girls' lab work did not come out okay... Mixed feelings really. This place is getting to me. I've done one blood draw today, have another in a bit. The courtyard is the size on the 8 man room at the sorority. I might go walk laps out there in a bit. My spirits are low today, I realized I only packed one flip flop for the showers.

Day 4:
"The male patients are quite "rugged" looking, they dont wear a uniform or anything, at least I don't think, but then again maybe it is required of them to wear acid wash jeans with a light denim jean jacket over the top of a Nebraska Cornhuskers championship Tshirt. I just try to steer clear of that group. I havn't been able to walk in the court yard lately because there is a new group out there testing something to do with smoking. I think the test might be more of an endurance test really, see who can stand out in the rain and smoke cigg after cigg with out fainting. So to pass the time my bunk mate, Tara, and I sat in our room and searched jcpenny.com looking for Care Bear room decorations for her youngest daughter, youngest of four by the way. Tara is 19, she's a real fighter. Literally. She fights people. So I'm glad I'm on her good side. Well it was a lazy afternoon to say the least. Two more blood draws and two more ECG hook ups and I get to come home. See you on the outside."


See, I bet you those lovely blogger gals at The Daybook or Rockstar Diaries
started their blogs because of a very similar situation. 
I wish I had some cute photos to post about this experience but unfortunately
camera phones weren't allowed in the "hospital" on account of the fact
many of the patients had sexual assault records. 

But like I was saying,
I blogged for a pretty long time without even letting it be known.
I mean that's normal, right?
Lot's of people keep an online journal without announcing it to blogworld.
Yeah it's called Myspace, creep...
I wasn't aware of all of the great blogs in this cyber world 
until about six months ago. No joke.
I thought Perez Hilton was the only blogger.
But once I figured out there were others out there like me I decided once and
for all to give into the politics of blogworld and see what might happen.
I got a button.
Then I took your button.
Then I tried link-ups. And comments. And sponsors.
And in about four months I finally went from 80 followers to a few hundred more.
Of course I'm nowhere near the numbers of the Mormafia, but a girl can dream.

Mormafia: rulers of the blog world.
They're well dressed. 
They're way too cute.
Their families are even cuter.
And if you're not in a good spot in your own life, don't read about theirs. 
Because it will make you feel worse.

And this is all meant as a huge compliment to the Mormafia. 
I mean I would never be stupid enough to insult them in their own territory.
Would you go to L.A. and insult the Crips?
Exactly.

Would you look at that. I've rambled on for too long now.
That's the other thing I've had to learn about Blogging101: people don't like to read.
Check out my archives and you'll see I used to write novels.
I can't help it, I'm old fashioned.

Three years later I continue blogging because I enjoy it.
So to the asshole on Twitter yesterday who posted,
"I'd never read blogs. If I wanted to know all about your life, I'd ask you."
Nobody asked you to read our blogs.
And just an FYI- usually bloggers aren't the ones who are talking all about their lives
at the dinner table, commanding all of the attention.
We just write about it instead.
And then we politely sit and listen as the rest of you ramble about yours. 

Thanks for reading.







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Big.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

I had a total Tom Hanks "Big" moment earlier today.
I was sitting in training,
someone in charge was rambling on about
"margins and expenses and spread sheets and cutting costs"
and I was munching on all the snacks that were given to us in goody bags.
I was busily singing along to "Wake me up, before you go go" in my head
(which is pretty typical)
when somewhere in between  "take me dancing tonight"
and carving my pretzel into an anchor-
(a task harder than it sounds)

when I looked around the room and started to notice a few things.
First of all,
I was the only ten year old in the room who had 
eaten my entire goody bag.
And I was definitely the only five year old in the room
who was turning my food into various objects.
Everyone seemed to be incredibly engaged in what boss-man talking about.
And then I realized how old everyone looked.
What was I doing in this room full of old people discussing spread sheets?
No way was I old enough to be here. 


I knew I shouldn't have played that damn Fortune Teller scratch ticket last week.
It really messed up my life.
The only difference between Tom Hanks (Josh Baskin) and myself
is that at the end of his work day he got to go home to a super sweet apartment
with a trampoline inside.
It doesn't get much better than that.


Most of the time I still just feel like I'm elven years old.
I'm in fifth grade and my plans for when I grow up 
still involve participating in the Olympics,
maybe the WNBA,
and possibly writing a few best selling novels that all involve ghosts of some sort.
(The Goosebumps series changed my life.)

Oh life.
Seriously though, this isn't meant to be a deep dark post about how life is so dissapointing.
Not by any means, I'm quite happy with the way mine is folding out.
I'm think I'm just saying I still haven't gotten over the fact I'm not, 
and never will be,
 Shannon Miller circa 1996.

1996 Olympics Gymnastic Team FOREVER!!!


And just to be clear I'm really liking my new job this far.
Let's just say it's going to be quite entertaining...

And this post is about as random as it gets.



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Shit Bloggers Say

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Alright, so I'm really trying hard to immerse myself into this whole blogging culture.
 For reals,
I had NO IDEA how in depth the blogging world is.
Every day I learn something new. 
And every day I'm reminded how my blog seems so old school still.
But I'm working on it.
In the midst of my research I've come up with this:

Shit Bloggers Say



So how do I get more followers?

Html is like really complicated.

I'll google the code.

I need sponsors.

Do you think I have enough followers for sponsors yet?

Do you have a button?

You totally need a button.

Button swap?

I got over 1,000 views today!

I hardly got any views today.

Do you think if I leave a comment she'll follow me back?

Omg ____ just followed me! That's like a big deal!

Why didn't ____ follow me back? I don't get it.

I just really have to write a post tonight.

I have nothinggggg to write about.

For real, what should I write about?

My post was such a force today.

I have a feeling this post is going to get a lot of hits.

Blogging is actually a lot of work.

That's totally going on the blog.

I just really want to get more followers.

Should I pay someone to design my blog?

Have you noticed a lot of the popular bloggers are Mormon?

Maybe blogger Gods just like Mormons more. (Or maybe I just say this.)

Why won't this format right? 

Why is the text being so weird?

Why won't this center?

It's like frozen.

I am going to freak out on blogger right now.

Blogging is actually pretty hard.

She has like so many followers.

Will you take a photo of me real quick?

Hold on, I need to get a photo for the blog.

Yeah, it's for the blog.

I just wish my blog was prettier.

Blogging is like my full time job.

I wish blogging was my full time job.

I'll just do a giveaway.

Did you sign up for her giveaway?

I really thought I was going to win that giveaway.

I just really wish blogging was like my job.

I got three new followers today! That's like a lot in blog world.

I need more followers.

I think I might write a book...

Everything I Should Know, I Didn't Learn In Kindergarden

So I'm still waiting to hear if I got the job...
I got word that I made it on to the final round, but I thought Monday's interview was the final round.
So now I play the waiting game.
and I am not good at this game.
I actually hate this stupid ass game.
You see, patience for me is not a virtue,
it's a myth.
I just don't have it.
And here I was so looking forward to posting on Facebook "I got the job!" Jk, I wouldn't post that. 
Yeah, I would. I love Facebook gratifcation.
These are going to be the longest days as I sit and wait and wonder.
Why oh why didn't I listen to my Kindergarten teacher when she told me,
"slow down, you need to learn patience, Taylor."
Had I learned that way back then I wouldn't be in this predicament right now.
Come to think of it, almost all of my bad habits started way back when and I was told to fix them from an early age but never did.
Even as a five year I was a hard headed little SOB.

I feel like my expression here just says, 
"take the damn photo already, I got shit to do."

1. Lacks Patience-
Which will lead to inability as a 25 year old to wait and find out if they got the job which will lead to stalking emails and phone calls to prospective employer which will lead to ... not getting the job.

2. Does Not Play Well With Others-
Which will lead to spending a majority of time on a Blog/Facebook/Twitter as an adult due to lack of socialization with peers.

3. Makes Sassy and Sarcastic Comments Toward Teacher-
Which will lead to a 25 year old who has problems with authority. Also see #2.

4. Speeds Through Work Too Fast, Needs To Slow Down-
Don't act like you haven't noticed my grammar errors on here.

5. Does Not Settle Down During Nap Time-
Which will lead to a 25 year old who requires a good glass bottle of wine or two every night in order to wind down. This one isn't so bad...


6. Asks For Help Before Trying to Solve on Their Own-
Which will lead to a 25 year old who often gets in fights with call center people from India. Sorry, I usually get very bitchy and then immediately apologize. But why does setting up an internet router have to be so damn difficult?

And I'll stop right there before I find myself in a mini counseling session regarding various childhood decisions that have led me to the person I am today.
And also because the internet at Starbucks is being super flaky and I'm about to flip.
See, there goes the whole patience thing again.
Isn't it weird how we've all adjusted to technology and rather than appreciating it we just demand it now?
Like yesterday when my Pandora wasn't working on my run and I was beyond mad ready to throw my phone against the tree.
Settle down Jenny Heart Attack.
Five years ago I was happy just to have an iPod. And before that an MP3 player.
Before that, dare I say discman?

Funny how that happens.
Catch ya later.



My dad's weekend is here: State Basketball.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Today is my dad's favorite day of the year: the start of Nebraska Boys State Basketball. The tournament of tournaments for the finest high school boys teams across the good state of Nebraska. Hopes and dreams will be realized this weekend. And not just for my dad, for teenage boys as well.
Some of you may not know this, but my dad was pretty much the Lebron James of high school basketball officiating in his day. He added the black stripe to the official's uniforms, before him they were just white. Fans didn't boo him after a questionable call, they applauded him for being bold. Tv reporters didn't interview coaches after a game, they went straight to my dad. He was the only Referee in state tournament history to get the MVP award. Twice. After a game security escorted him out not to protect him from unruly fans, but because so many people wanted his autograph.
When he retired, they hung his perfectly black and white striped jersey on the wall for all to see, black nylon pants lying neatly beside it. And it's still hanging in that very same spot in my basement today if anyone would like to come see it. He retired in hopes of one day seeing me play at the tournament. But for reasons I'll never understand, I never achieved this goal. Haunts me every day. I guess maybe the Nebraska State Basketball tournament only has room for one Wolfe in the spotlight.
So this weekend in the good town of Lincoln, Nebraska as the young teams strut around the Devaney Center in their retro Nikes, baggy sweat pants and hooded sweatshirts, my dad will be strutting around in his pumas, denim jeans, and probably some sort of Nebraska Husker shirt. The silly players think this weekend is about them. Little do they know, there's a young 24 year old referee out there giving himself a pep talk in his mirror at the Town House hotel right now, because today is his first appearance at the state games. He got the invite.

Sure, the young ref might only have the D3 opener, where the towns weren't big enough to bring an entire team so it's actually just going to be a little game of 3 on 3 played at the Lincoln East middle school. But he's here, that's what matters. And today he feels like Jay Wolfe.
Good luck to all of the 2012 State Basketball Officials. May none of you make the jack ass call of "stepping too close to the free throw line" like someone I know in 2004. I'm too classy to say names, but I know who you are, and I’m pretty sure so do you. Jack ass.