Frankie 💋

Hi guys! I post way too much on here and I don't really have a niche but I hope you stick around anyways!!!

[nivolumab000q-deactivated202506]

can u believe cherries are real and we can just eat them

[frankie-xoxo]

Did nails for me and my friend!

[frankie-xoxo]

Rodeo Essay

This was yet another essay written for my AP Lang class during my junior year of high school. The assignment was to write an essay based on John Green's book The Anthropocene Reviewed.

Picture the perfect night celebrating a display of pure American freedom and a chase for adrenaline. Rodeos are a popular event for people looking to involve themselves in southern culture and support the athletes that constantly risk their lives in the name of entertainment and thrill seeking. Growing up in Fort Worth I was exposed to rodeos and cattle farming from a young age and I have always had a deep respect for the people who participated in every rodeo event but especially bull riding. Something about the intense feeling that filled the arena for that 8 seconds and watching the concentration filling the faces of the riders during their 15 seconds in the pen. It has been a while since I have attended a rodeo but every once in a while I find myself longing for that feeling again. However, I am not the only one who enjoys watching bull riders at work. The term “Buckle bunny” was first cited in “A documentation of rodeo culture” written by Linda Sue Rosoff in 1985. Since then the term has been used to describe a specific type of girl who “jumps from buckle to buckle” and intentionally attends rodeo events to sleep with cowboys. I have always hated being accused of being a buckle bunny because the term implies a lack of respect for the sport of bull riding itself for which I have always had a deep love for. There are many things I think people associate with me but the perception people have of me has always confused and intrigued me. Recently I have found out that the biggest concept my peers associate with me is cowboys and rodeos. I can’t help but wonder what they think of my fascination with the American south west. Bull riding has a long history with open-arena steer riding starting in the 1910s and a more commercialized version coming into play in the 1930s, many people have engaged in the sport including some of my close friends and family members. An ex-boyfriend of mine came from a family of die hard rodeo clowns and cattle ropers which was a large part of my introduction into rodeo events outside of my fascination with bull riding, But it also introduced me to how dangerous it can truly be. When I met his uncle he warned me to never date a bull rider because he would die young and leave me heart broken. I took his words to heart and I never have because unlike the athletes themselves the sheer idea of being bucked off of a 1,500 pound angry bull makes my stomach churn. At a rodeo I attended in Weatherford Texas I watched an ambulance carry away a man with a shattered hand and torn shoulder as another backflipped off of the center pen to celebrate his expert ride. I watched as several girls in cow print tops and felt hats cheered for the hot bull rider showing no sense of fear or concern for the poor rider being carted away in an ambulance. As with any sport it is custom for the athletes to appeal to the public with sponsors and cheesy smiles but the sexual advertising of bull riders has always been excessive. I am sure its enjoyable for the riders themselves but I can’t help but think that some people would much prefer to take the sport seriously without as much interference from obsessed fans with parasocial relationships.

Take J. B. Mauney for example, his online fanbase is one that rivals that of athletes from more mainstream sports. He is a serious athlete who has turned into a sex symbol online for teenage girls obsessed with the idea of a “bad boy”. I never quite understood the obsession but this idea that every athlete has to appeal to the public on a level other than pure skill is no stranger to me. Buckle bunnies and their methods confuse me as someone solely interested in the sport and not the somewhat provocative ideas they attach to the act of bull riding. This also includes how people view mechanical bulls, a common activity in bars that usually attracts a crowd interested in watching women buck their hips on the machine in impossibly tiny clothing. If I were given the chance I would not turn away from this opportunity but it is important to recognize the difference in the sport itself and a silly made up mechanical version of it. There is minimal danger when it comes to the back and forth rocking of a mechanical bull versus a real bull with intentions to hurt you. Which is why I think bull riders deserve the utmost respect when it comes to visiting the rodeo or watching events online. I give bull riding four stars

[frankie-xoxo]

Storm Chasing Essay

I wrote this essay as part of an assignment during my Junior Year of high school. I hated every part of it but I figured I would share my terrible writing with the world.

I have always been terrified of mother nature. Growing up on the cold and windy east coast sandwiched between mountains and the coast I was no stranger to any storm you can imagine, except tornados. Virginia is not particularly known for its dangerous weather and I felt safe and comfortable in my little pocket of the United States free from natural made tunnels in the sky.You can imagine my surprise when my parents announced we were moving to Texas. No longer was I protected by the Blue Ridge Mountains, there were no mountains like in Texas.

We moved in with my grammy and her husband. He had forecasted weather for the navy and kept four monitors constantly running radars and the news. I thought he was strange for focusing on something so unpredictable, “it’s inevitable, don’t bother” I told him. I spent many nights with my pjs and my tennis shoes on waiting for a tornado to rip my roof off…it never did. I remember when my neighbors lost their house to a tornado, I was only 8 and didn’t yet understand the significance of just how dangerous tornadoes can be. It all came to me however, when I was 11 years old. My first time home alone. When I heard the wind rattle my windows I headed into my bathroom…just in case. As time passed I wondered if there was even going to be a house left for me when I opened the door. Eventually I left the bathroom and looked out the front door to see a semi clear sky, sure there were pieces of debris flying in the air but I stayed under the awning. As soon as I stepped off the porch the sky blackened and a gust of wind pushed me back onto the porch, then came the sirens. I ran back inside slamming the door behind me but I wasn’t strong enough and the wind pushed it right back open. I kept running until I got to my bathroom and prayed that everything would be okay. When my mom got home later that evening she took me outside to see the destruction that even something categorized as an EF0 could bring. That day had completely changed how I view mother nature's wrath.

That is until October of last year. I now lived further from the famed tornado alley and presumed I would never have to deal with that again. I had also recently been through a messy breakup and was horribly torn up. I had seen the movie Twisters in theaters so when the guy I was talking to said he was a storm chaser my interest was piqued. He told me that his older brothers chased for adrenaline but he wanted to be a meteorologist and learn about why the atmosphere behaves the way it does. I thought back to my grandpa and how I thought his radars and trackers were silly. Now my path has changed and I have learned about how tornadoes form, what to look for, how to stay safe and they are much less scary. It is my goal to learn how to help people affected by natural disasters and provide as much information as I can to understand why mother nature reacts how she does, and yes, sometimes I sit in my garage with my computer and a cup of coffee watching the storms roll in.

[frankie-xoxo]

Early Bloomer

It hurts to be an early bloomer

When your legs are too long for your body and the spots on your face burn bright

When people say you look older, but you really feel younger and nothing ever feels the same

And of course they are staring and whispering and sharing

For them its nothing but a game

When you keep on growing and blooming and knowing that one day you’ll all be the same

Those same people will stare and whisper and share

And your body will bare all the shame

But if one thing is true about early bloomers

Once their shells have broken and crumbled away

a beautiful flower remains

[frankie-xoxo]

When you go to sleep tonight I will cry

And you won't stay awake

You'll sleep, you won't know

And I won't tell you

I can't tell you why

I don't know why

But there is something dark making me think

And it won't go away

So when you go to sleep tonight I will cry

[frankie-xoxo]

Thinking about human states of being

Gotta say one of my favorites is packing someone's birthday gift in the car after buying everything because you don't want them to see

[nondelphic]

i need my novel to understand that i am just a girl

[plumslices]

Can’t believe im adult now. Sometimes I feel like a teletubbie with a credit card.

[frankie-xoxo]

July Projects Update

I have been non-stop working on so many projects recently and I'm excited to share some of them with you! Hopefully in August I will get better at sharing things in real time but we will see. Most of the work has been coloring pages, scrapbooking, and journaling.

I apologize for the ATROCIOUS glare on the scrapbook photos, still working on getting matte scrapbook page sleeves.

Scrapbook and coloring pages below the cut!

[frankie-xoxo]

Bring back gatekeeping wtf, y'all are making me look ridiculous

[dramatic-dolphin]

please stop writing "viscous" when you mean "vicious", it produces the weirdest mental images ever

[dramatic-dolphin]

"a viscous murder" yeah i don't want to know what that could look like

[transmasc-wizard]

it looks like the Boston Molassacre of 1919

[krakenartificer]

#and vice versa btw#i don’t know what a vicious fluid would be like#and i don’t want to find out

it looks like the Boston Molassacre of 1919

[gyarugore-deactivated20260130-d]

[frankie-xoxo]

Ranch hand (part two)

When I woke up I heard music coming from the building I had rested my back against. Spending a night tucked between dumpsters was not in my five year plan but I had to make due. I crawled out of the crack and stretched my hands up to the sky as far as I could reach. I spent the night crying quietly to myself and scribbling nonsense notes in my notebook about what I would do in the most dire situations.

I decided wallowing in an alley was not the most productive so I started walking.

This town was small for sure but much prettier during the day. The sky was pure blue and bigger than I could comprehend, bigger than back home I was sure.

Sometimes there was a sidewalk and sometimes I hugged the side of the road praying people saw me as they sped by. When the day started to get warmer I knew I would need water if I ever planned on getting further than here so I headed to the only familiar place in this town.

“Goodmorning Jack” I said as I strutted into the rundown McDonalds.

He didn’t seem to have any emotions to my arrival which hurt my feelings more than I’d like to admit.

“Do you have the paper?” I asked with a nervous smile.

He simply nodded and went into the back. I settled down in the same cushy seat that I appreciated much more after the damp concrete I rested on.

He came back a few minutes later with a dew covered paper and set it in front of me, “Good luck” he mumbled.

I smiled at this sudden “Warmness” and got to my searching.

The paper was drier than yesterdays and made flipping through it a breeze. Right as I skipped past the cartoons and into the jobs I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Jack.

“You look sick” He said as he handed me a kids meal with a small water cup.

I tried not to be offended and I took his offering with a quick thanks. He scurried away again back to his place by the register.

I got back to the paper.

There, again, were many ads for babysitters and lawn mowers. I couldn’t be trusted with children or blades so I passed but when I turned the page I saw it. In big bold letters Help wanted, ranch hand, free housing I quickly grabbed a pen from my bag and circled the ad with a special underline under the phone number.

I could hardly contain myself from jumping out of the booth. I slid out from the table and ran over to the counter.

“Please tell me you have a phone” I begged Jack. He looked uneasy but eventually slipped a flip phone out of his pocket and handed it to me.

I silently thanked him and began vigorously dialing the number. Me and my new friend sat anxiously as it dialed and when it picked up I nearly squealed.

“This is Cade, what can I do you for?” said a man with a deep thick accent that made my lip tremble.

“I-I saw your ad in the paper” I stumble, “I’d like to question about the job”

He chuckled a bit through the phone and I held my breath, “Well I have some questions for you first”

I nodded frantically before realizing he couldn’t see me, “Yes sir”

Another laugh, “Well I’m free today for an interview, drive on up and we’ll see what you’re worth”

I looked at Jack nervously, I didn’t know how I would make it all the way to the ranch with no car and no money. But I took a deep breath and pulled the phone back up to my ear, “Yes sir I’ll be there”

“See you then darlin” and he hung up the phone.

I flipped the phone closed and set it in front of me before leaning my head in my hands. I would've cried had Jack not jingled his keys in front of me.

“Let’s ride” he said with a fake western accent that made me giggle.

“No Jack it’s not worth it” I laugh thinking he’s joking but the stern look on his face told me otherwise.

I raised my hands defensively and giggled, “Let’s ride”

[frankie-xoxo]

Ranch Hand (part one)

I was so lost. Everything had gone downhill and I was utterly lost. No literally…I had ubered as far as my money could take me and that ended up being a McDonalds that clearly had not been renovated since it was built. I had about enough change for a cheeseburger but I decided I didn’t have the bandwidth for such a frivolous purchase.

I sat on one of the cracked vinyl bench seats and rested my head on the table. I figured I would stay there until close and then i’d find a covered bench. The only flaw in that plan was the miles and miles of nothing that seemed to span in every direction. It would be impossible if not incredibly dangerous to find somewhere to stay once it got dark. I considered hitchhiking until I remembered I was small and alone. The severity of my situation slowly crept in on me until it seemed like there was nowhere else for me to go. Before I started to spiral someone came up to me.

“Hey can you move your bag, I’m trying to sweep”

It was a tall lanky guy who looked no more than 17 with a horrible mullet and starched blue jeans. He sort of pushed the broom at my bag until I moved it over with my foot.

“Hey do you know anywhere I can get work around here?” I asked cautiously.

He seemed to think for a minute before saying, “I can grab you a copy of the newspaper”

I almost laughed out loud, “A newspaper?”

He simply shrugged and continued sweeping. I assumed that was the end of that conversation but a little while later he returned with a thick newspaper covered in plastic.

“Oh” I sort of mumbled, “Thank you-”

“Its Jack”

“Well thank you Jack”

He didn’t acknowledge me and simply skittered back to the counter where he sat quietly, watching the door.

I looked down at the newspaper in front of me and began peeling off the slightly wet plastic. It must have rained here early.

I flipped through the damp pages and found nothing but ads for things I would never need, at least four divorce lawyers. When I finally got to the job section is was baren other than a few ads for lawn mowers. But I didn’t have a car so that seemed implausible to me.

I folded the newspaper back up and tucked it into my drawstring backpack hoping it would come in handy sooner or later.

The sun was starting to go down and while I didn’t know what time it was I knew they would be closing soon.

“Hey Jack” I yelled towards the counter

He looked up at me bewildered maybe at the sudden noise or the fact that this weird stranger was even speaking to him.

“What time do you close?”

He looked up at the clock, then at me, then at his watch, “Thirty minutes or so”

I nodded and began gathering my things. I didn’t know where exactly I’d go but I figured it would be alright. Maybe I’d get lucky and find that covered bench after all.

The door creaked loudly as I walked out into the cool night air. There was a bank and a nail salon across the street but no decent sign of shelter. I had never been away from home without a car and a plan, never like this and as the cool wind bit at my shoulders I realized I was honestly truly alone.

[frankie-xoxo]

12-gauge

(Part 2)

This time last year we were swimming.

She called me her hero, said I rescued her. She didn't know I planned on hurting her from the beginning.

No voice has been as sweet and no touch as motherly, as soft. Her fingerprints are burnt into my skin. The soft rolling country turns to quick highway and I turn my attention to the road.

After a while the silence becomes impossible to handle as her image flashes across my mind and I reach for the radio. As soon as the first note hits my ear I take in a sharp breath and curse myself. My grip tightens on the steering wheel as I lose control of myself and begin singing.

"She keeps on loving me-"

My voice comes out raspy and tired but the feeling remains all the while.

I could handle it a month or two after I left. I kept it on my profile, sang it to a few girls. Everytime the words left my mouth the tightness in my chest increased until I couldn't take it anymore.

I sang it to her on one knee, in her childhood bedroom, I held her hand and look into her watery green eyes. I told her not to be scared, that I was there. It was a promise that we made, that I couldn't keep.

Without noticing a tear slipped down my cheek.

[frankie-xoxo]

12-Gauge

(Part 1)

There is nothing sweeter than freedom.

That's what I tell myself as I take another drag from my blunt. It is six-fifty am. I would usually be asleep but a nightmare clung to my skin like a sticker only eased by the sunrise and a morning smoke.

Though it is late summer there is a chill to the air. I think in the city there would be a buzz of energy and the hum of a thousand machines but out here the only noise is a train horn and the dogs in the yard.

I look down at the phone, seven am

I take another drag, stamp out my blunt and do the routine. The same routine, but when I reach for my phone my heart hardens with the empty screen.

I grit my teeth and close the door of my truck Green bean but that doesn't feel right anymore.

There have been plenty of girls in this truck after her. Losing her was supposed to be a way to escape the monotonous lull of life yet I still leave my driveway at seven-ten am and I still turn my ringer up with no one to call.