Tag Archives: no point

Miniature Marshmallows Included

I currently live in a house that is over 100 years old and in some passion of antique restoring or just getting tired of the same thing, my roommates and I decided to rearrange the furniture and clean the entire downstairs.

Did it teach me about history and classic architecture? Did I roll up my sleeves and learn the power of elbow grease, hard work, and perseverance? Did we bond in an unbreakable way as roommates through the dust flying? Did I get inspired to clean up the emotional cobwebs in my life much like I did the real ones in the top corner of the kitchen? Did I take the perspective of cleaning an old house with history, as a young 22-year old making her own history while caught between career and growing up, and turn that story into an award-winning screenplay starring Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling that revolutionized the lack of creative and heartfelt cinema written by young women currently in the industry?

Of course not.

But, in switching the pantry to the coat closet and vice versa, I discovered we have 7 whole boxes of hot chocolate mix, so, I guess life is pretty okay for now.

Olympic Sports I Would Actually Watch

Who Can Put Together A Cute Outfit Using Only Animal Print

Pie Baking

Which Puppy in this Group Of Puppies Can Fall Asleep Fastest

Speed Knitting

Miniature Pony Barrel Racing

Who Can Bedazzle This Jean Jacket The Cutest Way

One Big Worldwide Danceoff

Most “Honey Boo Boo” Quotes Spoken In One Minute

Team Fingernail Painting

Barista Latte-Foam-Art Finals

Dolly Parton Impersonator Face-off

Multiple-Language Karaoke

Making The Most Clever Tweet

Job Interview Relay Races

Speed Swiffer-Dusting

Team Grocery Shopping

80s Style Aerobics

Real-Time Playlist Building

Picking The Best Instagram Filter

Team M.A.S.H. & MadGabs

Who Can Make The Biggest Beehive Hairdo

Connect-Four Semi Finals

One-Handed Ikea Furniture-Assembling

Only Coverage of Ryan Lochte (#noshame)

If I Were A Boy

I would wear nothing but denim and pull it off

I would work on cars all day

I assume that I would crave steak and potatoes (more than I already do)

I would be sad that the world stereotypes me and tells me that I can’t have emotions or reactions to anything that’s not just grunting

I would make more fart jokes, let’s be honest

I might watch more sports, or I might just turn on golf and take a nap, because that’s what televised golf was created for

I would order tough sounding drinks even when I wanted the fruity margarita

I would worry about my hairline too much

I would eventually find a good cologne that works for me and smell amazing and not realize how much girls are attracted to smell, like seriously, that is a huge factor

I would complain about shaving and say I wish I didn’t have to, even if I actually hate my beard because it comes in red and patchy

I wouldn’t know exactly what I wanted in a relationship either, but would probably hate the double standard that I’m supposed to have it all figured out and take charge and “Be A Man” in the dating world

Maybe I would finally understand the appeal of Megan Fox?

I would try to be a Barney Stinson but would always end up being a Ted Mosby

I would feel overwhelming pressure to be the breadwinner in my family and that would frustrate me

I might, like a little bit, but for the most part, wouldn’t quite understand the complexity and anxiety that comes with picking the right hair salon, and maybe that’s okay

Even if I wasn’t a ‘fighter’ by nature, I would still defend my Mama’s good name and my favorite band, because some things are just sacred

I would listen to Beyonce’s “If I Were A Boy” and be like OH NVM, THIS ISN’T RELEVANT, BECAUSE I AM ONE

I would try to be a good son, a trustworthy father, a loving boyfriend and a man of honor

I would also try to have all the high scores in all of the video games

I probably wouldn’t use as many emoticons in my text messages, but hey, who knows

I would just be trying to get along in this world without being called a jerk, too masculine, too feminine, power-hungry, womanizing, overly-sensitive, a bad listener or simply “the wrong kind of guy” that I’m told about constantly from my peers, the media, and delusional women’s magazines

I would try to be James Brown, Han Solo, Mr. Rogers, Robert Plant, Frank Sinatra, Woody Allen, Ryan Gosling, Jim Henson, Indiana Jones, Lester Bangs, Jack White, James Dean, Albert Einstein, John Lennon, Stephen Colbert, J.D. Salinger, Bruce Springsteen, Marc Jacobs, The Old Spice Commercial Guy, Johnny Cash, Joss Whedon, Jimi Hendrix, Ron Swanson, Andy Warhol, Don Draper, Freddie Mercury, and Johnny Bravo all rolled into one.

And for better or worse, I’d probably still blog about all of it.

I Will Never Be Tan

There are battles I have fought for years in my life, but some were decided from the start.

It’s time that I face the cold, pale facts – I will never be tan.

White Girl Problems are my burden, literally.

My Grandmother is adopted so I tell everyone with certainty that I could really be any number of races, but I’m not fooling anyone with my exotic claims. In fact, I am pretty sure my ancestors quite possibly lived in caves most of their lives and/or underwater, because my skin is not suited for the open-air sun-shining outdoors. (Also, I sometimes think I might be a mermaid, but that’s another post altogether.)

I practically get a sunburn just from thinking about the sun. My skin is what you’d call “white with a tendency to turn red in 5 seconds” as a result of, but not limited to: sun exposure, excitement, nervousness, embarrassment, flattery, karaoke, allergic reactions to jewelry, allergic reactions to LIFE, etc. There is no middle ground – I’m red or white, always, like a delicious candy cane! (Okay, maybe not like a delicious candy cane, but I am all about seeing the bright side of things. Except, of course, the bright side of the sun, because I burn! Get it?!?!?!)

Now, I’m not the palest person you’d meet. I mean, I’m no Snow White (even though I do rock a red bow headband pretty fiercely). However, when the rest of my family can somehow achieve a little perfect summer bronze with no sweat, I stick out like a black sheep. Or rather, a very white sheep.

I was always the child at the neighborhood pool with my floaties on that attracted the attention of any mother within a 5-mile radius, including my own, making sure I was wearing sunblock. I’ve been lathered up more than once by strangers concerned for my epidermis’ well-being. Are you ever in the store by the sunscreen and see a ridiculous one marked with SPF 90 and wonder who is buying something with that much protection? Hint: it’s me, I am that crazy person.

Yep, I am the one who packs enormous sunglasses and a hat and an umbrella for a beach day and uses all three.

On a serious note, I completely believe that being tan is not at all worth the risks of skin cancer and sun damage to your precious complexions, so I’m not overly bummed out about this, but still, there’s that little twinge of jealously having grown up in one of the hottest and sunniest states in the free world and never matching everyone else’s obsession and achievement in being brown.

Self-tanner? I’ve flirted with it before.

Bronzer? I may own a few different shades.

Using my high-quality editing skills in MS Paint? I’ll let you be the judge.

oh that? it’s totally natural.

But really, I’m just ready for pale to come back in style. I know the world wishes they all could be California Girls, but let’s agree to let the cast-mates of Jersey Shore be a bad example of physical perfection and cheeto-colored skin. I mean, no one wants to turn into the lady that basically tried to tan her 5-year-old and whose face resembles a Cocoa Puff.

I am a young and carefree bohemian twentysomething who frequently wants to rebel against common practices and question authority, but sun protection and SPF is one of those things where I think responsibility isn’t so constricting to my creativity, and it keeps me looking (somewhat) more normal and healthy.

If you naturally tan, I’m not mad at you, just know your limit and don’t forget to at least pack some sunscreen, even if it’s a socially-acceptable coverage like SPF 15 or 30. Bask in your color, no matter the hue. (And if this post was a movie, “True Colors” by Cyndi Lauper would play right now. You’re welcome.)

So, if you’re pale and you know it, don’t be afraid to show it!*

*(Just make sure you throw on some 30 before you go outside, especially in the next few months, because, we don’t want that time you went to Schlitterbahn with your middle school choir and hung out with the olive-skinned girls who used tanning oil and pretended that “oh yeah, I don’t even wear sunscreen, usually!” wasn’t a lie to make you seem cool and then you became a lobster to happen again.)

Photo Credit: 1

Some Nights.

Some nights, I :

  • online shop and order shirts with eagles on them, heart-shaped sunglasses and Holly-Golightly-inspired sleeping masks
  • eat a giant slice of chocolate cake (#noshame)
  • delete 100 people from my phone contacts
  • become reminiscent about the past and work myself into this little crawlspace of emotions
  • bookmark and pin a bunch of craft d-i-y projects that i know i will be too lazy and impatient to actually ever make or do-it-myself, but that look so cute and practical
  • watch The Princess Diaries and High Fidelity on a neverending loop
  • have 3 intense crippling moments thinking i will forever be alone
  • have 24 intense crippling moments thinking i will never make it in the working world and music industry
  • cry while reading my bible
  • send picture messages of: baby sloths, corgi puppies and kittens
  • laugh so hard at the dinner table with my parents about our fear of the slow checkout lady at hobby lobby that i start crying
  • actually remember to moisturize twice a day like every magazine has told me for years and feel like a total rockstar because of it
  • paint my nails with OPI’s “The One That Got Away” from the Katy Perry Nail Polish Collection and feel like a total rockstar because of it
  • play guitar and ukulele for the first time in two months and sing until i’m hoarse
  • spend 20 minutes trying to get my brother’s pug to love me, and fail
  • make obsessive and ocd-esque playlists on Spotify for hours on end
  • think about Coachella and assume that since I’m not there, it’s probably not very good, I mean like, Gotye and Beirut and Bon Iver and The Black Keys all in one place? I’m not jealous or needy for live music. Nope. Totally fine. (ish)
  • go out and am the quintessential twentysomething social butterfly with loud music and trendy beverages and dancing, only to be wishing for my bed and its 7 pillows, all comfortable
  • sit on my bed with its 7 pillows, all comfortable, and yet wish i was out on the town like a quintessential twentysomething social butterfly with loud music and trendy beverage and dancing
  • look forward to getting home just so i can put on my moccasins
  • watch the latest episode of Mad Men and discuss it in depth with my best friend via text message and consequently, become so thankful for stupid things like text messages and technology and writers of wonderful television episodes
  • miss my friends and college so much that it hurts inside my very soul. like, inside and out, my whole body just seems to say “i miss you, i miss you, i miss you all.”
  • try on my entire shoe collection and, really, applaud myself on my great taste
  • tell myself i should read more books and end up reading the internet for the next 3 hours
  • read The Frenemy and feel less alone
  • make long list blog posts that might borrow their format from The Frenemy a little bit
  • eventually sleep, but, at least tonight, not before I listen to Some Nights again. (see what I did there?!?!?)
  • (goodnight.)

Photo Lackin’ (Sad Trombone)

The lack of photos I have of my life in Nashville is just plain sad.

Seriously, I’ve been here almost a month and there’s not much to show from it. I will attribute this to the fact that 1.) I’m lazy and 2.) I always feel so awkward in photos by myself BUT I’ve decided to make some little cheesy pact with myself to take at least one photo a day, preferably more. And in turn, I will do my best to share them with you, therefore hopefully encouraging me even more! Or at least turning me into a tourist with a camera everywhere I go.

For now, there’s one little gem-

Remember when I had the genius idea, “Hey, if I leave my yoga mat rolled out, it will remind me to do be super fit every day and I’ll be way more productive!”

Good call, me.

A Quick Safari


I am all over the place, busy like a bee, attempting to study my life away, BUT I have nothing but great news and SO MANY stories to tell you, internet! SO MANY- involving the two best nights of my life, Arcade Fire, my falling-into-place summer plans and a lot of things that are currently give me happy tears like crazy. But, until I have time to type it out, let me just share 2 very important things-

1). You should really start listening to SiriusXM Radio. I mean, they’re a great employer from what I hear…

and, 2).


Someday that will be me, internet.


(photos via earth age!)