Songs My Mother Taught Me

The other day I looked in the mirror and lamented my weight. I frowned at the way my stomach rolled when I stood up or sat down or moved or breathed, I cried because my favorite pants didn't fit anymore, and I pinched at the fat under my chin. I hated my reflection, I hated myself. I wondered when I had gotten so large. Why I suddenly took up so much space. And then I remembered being a little girl and watching my mother do the same thing.

I do not admit this often, but my mother influenced my life a lot. After all, I lived with her for 13 years. How could she not? But sometimes, I feel her essence in the way I speak, or the way I look at the world, and more importantly myself. My mother had a hard life. She still has a hard life. I hope some day her life is better. She taught me that sometimes you cannot escape your sad reality. She just lives her life, does she think her life is good? I do not know. But watching her struggle and not work and fall into an endless cycle of depression and drugs taught me one thing. I never wanted to be her. I never wanted to be like her. I would never be content with just existing in my circle of hell. I grew up competitive because I grew up needing to know I was succeeding. Succeeding in ways my mother never would.

My mother constantly changed herself for men. She because skinnier, louder, more quiet, wore more make-up, went without make-up, dyed her hair, did different drugs, ignored her kids, loved her kids, made more kids, it depended on how the guy she was with wanted her. I hated her for it. I never knew the mother I was going to get. So I stopped needing a mother. I taught my brothers not to need a mother. We taught each other how to read, how to tie shoes, ride bikes, cook simple food, do math, write thesis statements, remove lice, wash clothes without a washer or dryer and only a sink. My mother taught me to never want children because I was terrified I would never be able to provide them with love that mothers are supposed to give their children, because how was I supposed to know what that looked like?

I didn't learn to eat fruits and vegetables from my mother, or that you should brush your teeth twice a day, or even how to braid my hair. She taught me that escapism is the solution to a shitty life, parents pick favorites when it comes to children, and men are more important than family. She taught me that fat isn't okay, that to lose weight you should do drugs or diet dangerously, that school isn't important, that children don't deserve fathers, that no one cares about good grades.

We leave marks on peoples lives that we will never know about. I doubt my mother knows she taught me to hate looking out the window or to be afraid of commitment, but she did. I doubt Rose knows that she is the reason I proclaim myself a failure before anyone else can, or that I am a perfectionist to the point that if it isn't perfect, I hate putting my name on it. I cry when I can't learn dances, or songs, or new skills, because I hate feeling like I'm heading down her path. She doesn't know she did this to me, just like I don't know how I have affected someone else's life.

What are we teaching our sons and daughters and mentees? What are we leaving behind?

What songs will they sing about us?

Random Thought Spill

1. Whenever I pass an ex's house or somewhere we used to go together, I get the urge to march up there and tell them how much better I'm doing now. I want them to see that I've become better since I've cut them out of my life. Look at me, accomplishing things I could never do with you. Look at me, challenging myself, facing my fears, finding myself.

2. I always thought that by this point in my life I would be farther along into a career, teaching kids about books and proper sentence structure, while becoming an actress on the side. Now that I'm here and I'm a bank teller and not a teacher, I can say that not accomplishing your dream isn't as bad as you would think. But don't think I'm content with where I am in life. I'm going back to school. I will be a teacher. Don't worry. Never worry. Good enough isn't where I want to exist.

3. When I was younger I always sat in the window, silently waiting for my dad to come home. Now I never open the curtains. The light hurts my eyes.

4. I held my grandmothers hand when we went into the store until I was 14. I was terrified of the crowds. Now I'm 22 and I don't go to Wal-Mart without my boyfriend because the crowds are still there, but my bravery still hasn't appeared. 

5. Boys used to look at me like I was someone to help them grow as a person. Like they could one day say to a different girl "Yeah, I'm sensitive, you should have seen the girl I used to date. I used to hold her after every nightmare and flashback and I didn't even complain. Of course I can handle a few tears when your dog dies". Now I demand they look at me like I'm a force to be reckoned with. I'm more than a stepping stone. I am a destination. 

6. When I was in high school I just wanted to be popular. Now I just want people to appreciate me for who I am, and listen to my opinion. I really like being liked, though. 

7. Most of social media is a lie. I posted on Instagram today that a cupcake made my whole day better. It was a lie. I had a shit day. Most of my posts are like that. Most of your posts are probably like that. We try to have these lives that are effortless, perfect, snap-worthy. No one has a life like that. Yet here we all are, pretending, editing, filtering photos to present our lives in the best light.

8. Drinking hot coffee and/or tea while wearing a baggy sweater over some leggings is a fantastic way to spend an entire day. Or 7 days. Or forever. Why get out of bed, really? 

9. The whole "live authentically" movement is bullshit. If you're trying to do something for something's sake, you're not really doing that thing. You can't be authentic for authenticity's sake. It doesn't work that way. Don't be a poser. 

10. Being on stage alone with a single spotlight and only the orchestra to accompany you is a fantastic place to spend five minutes. Having the stage to yourself during a show is breathtaking. 

11. Sunrise, sunset. The two most beautiful realities in life. 

Dear Younger Me

If I could back in time and tell myself something, I would go back to 1995 and tell two year old me to hug my daddy tighter, to ask him to hold me more, to try to tell him how much I would need him 20 years later. I would tell Baby Alexis how someday she would be singing Over the Rainbow in rehearsal and someone would ask her what her "over the rainbow" was and she would think how it was that time, when he was there, with you, and he loved you more than anything, and you would realize you would never get your "over the rainbow" because that would be like reaching into the void and bringing someone back from whatever lies beyond this life.

I would tell 13 year old me that its not her fault her clothes are too big and smell bad, its not her fault mom uses drugs, there's nothing we can do to stop her. I would tell her not to let that boy kiss her in
the stairwell, to raise her head high when that girl calls mom a crack whore. I would tell her that soon her days will shine a little brighter, but no matter what they say she doesn't deserve any of the horrid things she has to endure. This is not karma from a past life, this is not atonement for sins, this is a horrible sequence of events that she didn't get to choose. I would beg 13 year old me to ignore everyone that called her anorexic, it is a synonym for malnourished, not beautiful, you do not need to strive to hear it everyday.

If I could go back I would tell 15 year old me that just because dad was a cross country superstar and apparently a genius doesn't mean that you have to be either of those things. I would tell myself there is life after not making football cheer freshman year, and to not let that girl do your eyebrows in the locker room between classes. I would explain that anxiety is normal and should be addressed the moment the walls start closing in and the lights go dark and you feel that roller-coaster stomach feeling, just because someone asked you to demonstrate something for the class. I would tell this wide-eyed 15 year old to cherish every friend, every joke, every embarassing moment, every carefree laugh, chance encounter with friends, and smile that experience while in Oroville, soon your whole world will be flipped upside down.

Honestly there are so many moments where I wish I could tell myself to laugh louder, hug longer, speak up more. I wish 19 year old me kept her promise to call Carissa, because 22 year old me

remembers every cancelled coffee date as a regret, a chance to say "I love you, please don't leave me" one last time. Current Alexis wishes 13 year old Alexis told mom how much high school Alexis would need her. Fourteen year old Alexis should have ran back and said goodbye to Uncle Dean before she left for school that day. 22 year old Alexis misses her dad just as much as 20 year old Alexis playing Dorothy did, and just as much as 9 year old me missed him at every ballet recital and every play through the years.

We take so many things for granted.
I took so many things for granted.

I'm Feeling Twenty....Something.

Recently I celebrated my 22nd birthday. While 22 isn't a birthday of note, like its predecessor 21, for me it was a turning point. No longer will people look at my ID and laugh at the newly minted legally drinking adult. No, that is a thing of the past. Yes, people still triple check my ID. Especially since I've colored my hair and started make-up regularly since the photo was taken a week before I turned 21.

21 was a big year for me. I learned a lot about limits, both in regards to alcohol and my life, and developed a love for wine and learned about the magic a Jack and Coke holds while also being educated on the evils of Tequila and Fireball, not counting the taste.

I started my 21st year by leaving Washington, DC and my wonderful best friend/sister Nadia to hop on a plane and come back home to little old Omak. I sat next to a soldier named Travis on the plane and we celebrated our birthdays together (his was September 3rd) by drinking wine and whiskey. It was pretty cool, even if I got stuck in Denver for an hour and didn't have any Seahawks gear on hand to really make it fun. I did, however, pay for wifi, so there was that.

Once back in Omak, after taking a plane, train, and bus to get there, I went back to work, and got fired. Yeah. It was embarrassing, it hurt, especially because I had been wanting to quit but hadn't found a new job yet. Don't worry, I had another job within the week. But still. So my first lesson came quickly. Never get so comfortable in a job that you quit watching out for yourself. I will contest the reasons I was fired for until the day I die, but the fact is, it happened. I got lazy and quit making sure that I was looking after myself professionally. I cried for a couple hours, laughed in spite of it all (with some help from my "Big Sister" Nicole), updated my resume, and moved on. By the next day I was primped and ready to find a new job.

And I found a great one in The Corner Bistro. Unfortunately, I quit to work at a big box improvement store and regret that move to this day. Here's the thing, I quit because I needed more hours to pay bills. However, had I stuck it out, I would have started getting more hours at The Corner Bistro, I was told just before I quit I was getting an extra day, which would have been just enough hours to make bills work out. And while I'm thankful for the job that led me to meet my boyfriend, I will forever regret leaving The Corner Bistro family. So, sometimes it pays to keep your head down and move forward until you come out on top.

I also gained weight while being 21. A lot of people don't admit to gaining weight. But a lesson came from me uh....filling out. Yeah, that's what we will go with. When I was in high school I was currently on the move. I was in plays, I was on two cheer squads, and had a ton of other extra-curriculars to keep myself busy. I ate healthier because I couldn't afford to get sick, and because I wanted to be the best physically I could be, so I could push myself harder. My fast metabolism had a lot to do with my average weight, but after 4 years of not doing any of those things, your metabolism slows down, and eating fast food every day tends to cause weight gain. So the day before I turned 22 I started working out again. Now I'm on a road to being in shape and a healthier human. If you don't take care of yourself as a person, you won't be happy with who you become. This is a physical and mental/spiritual truth. Keep yourself in shape in every way and you will be happier in the end.

In my 21st year I've been an assistant cheer coach and watched a group of girls start out at the very bottom of the progress pyramid and end up at the top and even go to competition, against almost all odds, and learned that sometimes you just have to sit down and shut-up and watch Head Coach/Mama work her magic, because delivering constructive criticism super positively can be hard sometimes, but working with a group of amazing women to make your dream come true is an amazing feeling. Thanks Mama Jen, for letting me be the note taker, the Candy Queen, the assistant and making all my cheer dreams come true.

I learned the importance of building your own family, and only allowing those who make you feel good about who you are as a human while holding you to a general standard of goodness in. So Thank you Leeses, and of course Clicks, and the Flores family, and all my close friends, and the Miller-Mercados and Vanessa and Makisha and Emma, you're all so incredibly important to me.

Before and After. Look at those brows.

I also learned the importance of good/filled in eyebrows. This is how I'm wrapping up, I'm not even kidding. Okay, so I've plucked my eyebrows for a very long time (starting with the infamous incident in 8th grade where a friend plucked half my eyebrow out). But recently I had my eyebrows filled in for the first time since my Aunt Crystal (my first MUA) did them for a dance in the 9th grade. While I've always been proud of my eyebrows (one friend described them as perfect) I didn't know how godlike one could feel when the arch and definition of their eyebrows were on fleek. I looked in the mirror and thought "this is what Beyonce feels like every day". And while I still don't fill in my own eyebrows, because I'm terrified to, I have a best friend who will gladly do it for me and she makes them look perfect, and more importantly makes me feel like SuperWoman. So if there's one thing you're afraid to do, but know you'll feel better for doing it, do it.


Now I'm 22, and there's a whole new year to learn more crap about myself, especially my age. I still stutter when people ask how old I am. "Oh yeah, I'm twenty-wo...two. I'm twenty-two. I know how old I am, I swear".

Alexis Olmstead is a 22 year old blogger, photographer, and stage extraordinaire who is training, living, and working out of Okanogan County, Washington. When she isn't singing along to everything (much to her cats chagrin) she is coaching cheer, working behind the scenes or onstage on theatre things, and reading. For more posts about this, that, or the other thing, check back semi-regularly. 

P.S. Alexa Gee does all my make-up. Check her out on Twitter, Instagram, and at her Younique website. 

Alexis Attempts Baking

Today I tried to make cookies. Just in case you were wondering, baker I am not. But lately I've been trying to find new ways to entertain myself as I sit at home and ponder my existence. So after watching a super cute video of these adorable heart cookies being crafted, I decided to try my hand at making something colorful and happy and seemingly medium in difficulty.

So, after watching the short video like, 1,000 times, I went to the store and got everything I needed. 

-unsalted butter

-confectioner's sugar (also known as powdered sugar)

-vanilla extract

-eggs

-cake flour (unfortunately, I couldn't find cake flour anywhere, so I used all-purpose flour)

-food coloring 

-sprinkles

Then I got to work. It wasn't until I was sitting down to write this blog post that I discovered that there was actually a website with complete instructions. I literally just got all my instructions from the video, so there were a couple of key points, like whip butter into mayonnaise-like consistency that I skipped. There were also helpful hints like "all-purpose flour and cornstarch mixed together make cake flour" that were included that I could have used had I known about the site. AUGH, tumblr, you failed me. 

Also, Wal-Mart failed me, because my Wal-Mart only had flower cookie cutters, not the cute little hearts shown, which made my life way more difficult. 

So after layering the different colored doughs with a egg-white and water paste and letting it set for an hour I was ready to cut the flower shapes out of dough and stack them up and glue them together, again using egg-white and water. Because my cookie cutter was longer than the one in the video, I should have adjusted the number of layers accordingly, but I did not, and ended up having to stack two of the color stacks together to make it work, but it didn't affect the size of the cookie dough log in the end, so it was all worked out. But then came the hardest part. 

To make the log circular and able to be rolled in sprinkles, each of the spaces between the petals had to be filled in with dough and then wrapped in dough again to create a log. One of the tips I wish I had known before was that vanilla butter dough is insanely sticky when warm and if it gets TOO sticky, it should be refrigerated for an hour. BUT I PREVAILED, and got the whole thing surrounded in vanilla dough and covered in sprinkles, which is a lot harder than I initially thought it would be. 

But, after washing my hands a zillion times and literally just dumping sprinkles on the thing a couple of times to fill in holes, I was ready to cut the dough into cookies and bake. There is nothing exciting about that part of the story, except that the bottom started to look flat from the pressure so I had to roll the cookie log a couple of times to restore the circular shape. So half my cookies look like the letter "D". 

At the end I had a lot of scrap dough from the colored layers that I didn't want to waste, so rolled it into a large sheet, cut out some more flowers from it, and made cookies from the scraps as well, just an easier, more tie-dye variety. Oh, and the cookies are SO GOOD. I've never used that recipe before, because as I said, baking is a no-go for me. Normally I get the hankering to make cookies, buy a tub of cookie dough, and eat it out of the container in a fit of laziness mixed with impatience. 

If you're gonna make these cookies, and I totally suggest you do because they are so cute and so good, make sure you let everything set in the fridge for an hour between steps. That's 4 hours of prep work, but like, the easiest prep work ever. I've watched almost an entire season of The Mindy Project while making these cookies. So, not a horrible process. I would also say to be prepared to use a lot of food coloring. They suggest using gel food coloring, which is what I did, and it works really well, the color is very vibrant, but it also gets all over your hands, and incidentally, my face. Yeah, I wiped my face with my food coloring hand and it was awesome. 

It is safe to say that I am still not the worlds best baker. But maybe with some practice I'll get to be at least okay. 

Photo by Shakanna Inman

Alexis Olmstead is a 20something living in Middle-of-Nowhere, Washington, trying to make herself better one teeny tiny step at a time. She doesn't have anything figured out in regards to "the big picture" but hey, her eyebrows look good, so that's a start. For more rants, raves, life experiences, and opinions, check back semi-regularly. 

Alexis Reads: "Gone Girl" by Gillian Flynn

I finished "Gone Girl" by Gillian Flynn in a candlelit room, the sickly sweet smell of caramel candles filling the house, lying on my back with the flashlight of my phone, which was held between my chin and my sternum, aimed at the quickly dwindling pages of the book. 

I've owned the paperback copy of this New York Times Bestseller for quite a few months now, but moving, starting a newish job, playing part-time actress, part time assistant cheer coach, and a recent addiction to Sid Meier's "Civilization: Beyond Earth" has left me little time to read. And that is a shame. Because as soon as the power went out and I settled down into the corner of my couch armed with "Gone Girl" and pure resolve to finish the book before the day was done, I immediately remembered why younger Alexis was such a bookworm. Books are AMAZING, people. Instantly I forgot that I am in a county being ravaged by fire and that I had no power, because I was in this tantalizing world of absolute insanity and there was no possible way I could leave until I had soaked up every last page. 

Nick and Amy Dunne are far from the perfect couple, a fact that becomes more and more clear as the investigation into Amy's disappearance on their fifth wedding anniversary goes deeper and deeper.In what I decided to call "tag-team storytelling" the reader gains valuable insight into both sides of the disappearance through the point of view of both Nick and Amy, who is mostly represented by past-dated diary entries. Through this diary we see Nick and Amy's first meeting, their first kiss, Amy's constant wish for Nick to be something more, her fear for their marriage, her anger at having to leave her luxurious Manhattanite lifestyle to move to Missouri when Nick's mother falls ill. Through the course of these interchanging narratives we begin to question ourselves more and more. Has Amy simply disappeared, or did something more sinister happen? What exactly is Nick's involvement in everything? Just like every true crime show, book, or movie, the husband is the prime suspect, with a trail of evidence leading directly to him, including wickedly clever details that not even he remembers or thinks of when speaking to the police. OR DOES HE?

Basically me, the entire book.

Gillian Flynn's writing is hypnotic at best, and thrill-inducing at worst. The whole book, which is

split into three parts that all end with the reader's mouth agape, eagerly turning the page to continue this story that has them reeling in disbelief, is clever, and perfectly thought out. As the story went on, I began to try to think two steps ahead of the narrator, searching for a flaw in all of these perfect plans, and I didn't find one. And where I  imagine the one plot hole, there was later a careful explanation and a few precautions previously taken to cover the necessary tracks.

Seriously, "Gone Girl" is such a smart book. It is full of twists, turns, pure insanity, and minute details that come back to haunt the reader later, but never for a second does this book let its guard down or let the reader out of its vice-like grip. Honestly, I didn't eat for 11 hours yesterday, because I forgot to, and honestly was a little scared that this book would get mad at me and exact its revenge if I put it down, even for a moment. 

I absolutely recommend this book, more than any book I've reviewed so far here on "I Am Unwritten", and I cannot wait to get my hands on Flynn's other two books, "Sharp Objects", and "Dark Places". 

Before I go, I would like to take a minute to thank all of the hardworking men and women that are out there fighting fires here in Washington state. This week three firefighters lost their lives protecting ours, and that is a sacrifice we, as a community, can never truly repay. So thank you to all the firefighters, from all of us.

Alexis Olmstead is a bookworm, actress, assistant cheer coach, and the mother of three fur children, Scout the Cat, and Haida and Brego the Huskies. She enjoys long musicals, anything involving Idina Menzel, Meryl Streep, or Anne Hathaway, spending time with her family and friends, and a good glass of whiskey. For more rants, raves, and reviews, check back sporadically. 

Let Us Talk of Love and Things.

I once had a family member tell me that I abuse the power of internet to the point of over-sharing, to which I rolled my eyes and snarkily replied "duh, I have a blooogg". I will not lie, sometimes I feel like because I have a core group of like, two, who I know will read everything I link to, I have a responsibility to not waste your time with pointless details about my life. But then I remind myself that this is MY blog and I will post whatever I want on it. This isn't one of those fancy "themed" blogs, this is one of those "random-rants-posted-at-three-in-the-morning" blogs. As such, it is currently 1:45 in the afternoon and I'm about to talk a lot about my boyfriend. So if you're not into that, go ahead and close the tab. I'm okay with it, really.

I have been with my boyfriend, Cory, for almost three months now and since we have already put the words out in the universe in our quiet little safe spaces, I'm just going to publicly announce that I'm very much in love with him. I know that putting it out there in such a public manner is a risk that could be easily regrettable if things go south in the future, but unlike any relationship I've ever been in before, I'm quite secure in the fact that we are going to last for a pretty long time. And if this wonderful, dizzying, beautiful relationship doesn't last, I won't regret it one bit. Because I am having the time of my life with this boy and all we really do is exist near each other.

Guys. I've posted before what I thought love would be like, it would be this cold lemonade on a hot summer day type feeling, to quote my younger self (hahahaha I'm only 21), but love, I found, while refreshing, isn't everything you need in life. We don't perfectly compliment each other. I mean, I think Cory is the yin to my yang, but there is a lot of tolerance that happens between us. He tolerates me singing show tunes on repeat every time I drive, and I tolerate his unexplainable love for the absolute dribble that the tv show "Rick and Morty" is.

This boy, guys, this boy makes my heart beat faster, and my knees go weak, and in one breath can tell me how much of an absolute diva I am being about not getting to watch "So You Think You Can Dance" while we eat dinner, and assure me that there is nothing wrong with me, except for maybe my compromising skills. He allows me to be my silly, sad, outrageous, obnoxiously loud self, and accepts me for all of those things, and tells me he wouldn't have me any other way. He tells me he loves me when my hair is all tangled and messy and in a knot on top of my head and my eyeliner is all smudged because I slept in it, and he tells me he loves me when I've just spent an hour trying to get my contouring right and braided my hair into a totally fabulous bun. He tells me he loves me because I am Alexis. I am who I am, with or without make-up and fabulous hair, and I love him because he is Cory, and he allows me to be lazy and not wear make-up or to be vain and put on all the make-up.

Plus he indulges my need to selfie. 

It is scary to think that I am 21 and have found the person that I know I was meant to find in this world. I don't care if anyone believes I can do better, I think he is perfect, and to me, there is no one better. Even after our first big fight, and our subsequent smaller ones that all ended with us laughing and drinking wine out of the bottle and giggling about how silly it all was between kisses, I still think he is perfect.

Cory isn't afraid to ask "what if"? Cory isn't afraid to go out and do things, he doesn't care what the world thinks. Cory is available to adventure with me into the great unknown and when I start planning extravagant travel itineraries, he is there right beside me, saying of course he will be there, but can we make sure to stop in such and such a place as well? Cory is my joker, my audience, my travel-companion, my guy who indulges my crazy fantasies and encourages me to make them realities, the guy who challenges me to think outside of my very small box, and my #1 fan.

I don't know what I am to Cory. He tells me he loves me, and of that I have no doubt. But I can't tell
you all the superlatives he has given me. I want to be his fangirl, his ever supportive girlfriend that challenges him to think about things from a different perspective, the girl who keeps him humble but never questions his character or how great he is, because c'mon folks, he is pretty great, and the person that he spends the rest of his life with.

So there it is guys, I am Alexis Olmstead, and I love Cory Forgaard, and that's the beginning and end of everything.**

Alexis Olmstead is a 20something living and working in Okanogan County, Washington. She spends her days scrolling through Instagram, playing with her new cat, Scout, and belting show tunes to her boyfriend and his two dogs. For more rants, raves, and opinions on life, check back irregularly. 

**original quote by F. Scott Fitzgerald "I love her and that's the beginning and end of everything".