Tag Archives: no point

Idle Hands Are So Last Season

I have a horrible habit of not being able to keep my hands still. They’re always moving along in some weird rhythm while I speak to emphasize a point I’m talking about, playing idly with a necklace or bottom hemline of my sweater, spinning and sliding my four rings off and on and twirling my curls. I tap my nails on tabletops endlessly, drum little patterns with my fingertips on my collarbone and constantly fold and unfold my hands. Add all of this to the fact that I’ve been told that I carry my arms up high sometimes like a T-Rex and I am one scary dinosaurlike lion.

I can’t be the only one of this species, right? I know I’m not alone in this, but recently I’ve become acutely aware that my little t-rex arms and hands are taking up a sizeable portion of my communication, so, now that I know I’m attempting to not look half as ADD. However, why couldn’t I at least direct and channel all the haphazard nervous movement to something magical like THIS?!!?!

I’m now auditioning for someone that can A). teach me how to do this or B). pull off a mean blue striped tee while sitting next to me. Applications welcome.

(T Rex photo source: here)

Spring Break; Day 1

In case you didn’t know,


This is the time when college students like myself are supposed to be irresponsible, right?! What is this lion up to? Look out, world!!

Okay, so I’m not in Seaside Heights, but I am enjoying my break. While this holiday is normally assuredly meant for college students like myself to make poor decisions, yell “woo!” and come back with sunburns, if that is the case, I will be leading a rather less-than-normal week. What’s in the plans? Who knows, honestly! But I can assure you that I’ll share with you, internet. (So kind of me, I know.)

So what has Day 1 of this magical holiday held? Well…not a whole lot that translates into excitement. You see, when I’m at school, I’m surrounded by people so I never really get much done. When I’m home, though, I can take that usually-booked free time and accomplish things on my to-do list, which includes APPLYING FOR INTERNSHIPS. This lion is growing up! My summer is currently banking on working somewhere, hopefully that has a great reputation and would be fun. However, because I’ve been typing cover letters and applications for summer internships all day long (cross your fingers and pray that this lion is hired!), I’m sparing you more typing and giving you a video instead of my CRAZY spring break so far. After all, internet, if I know anything, it’s that you love videos, especially featuring pugs with breathing problems. Enjoy!

(Sadly the Jersey Shore photo may have been altered. Slightly. Original photo credit: here.)

Two & A Half Small Victories

There were other subjects I was going to blog about today, but there is BREAKING NEWS that I feel I must share with you, internet.


While this may not be important news to you, this is life-altering to me. Perhaps I hype situations, but for many reasons, this is a victory on several fronts. In my little head, I sometimes aspire to do something crazy with my life like write for television, and for the past 7 years, the bane of my existence at times is to see the constantly number one rated comedy on television be the LAZIEST written half-hour in existence. The premise is so weak, the jokes aren’t funny, the acting is cringe-worthy and the laugh track feels so out of place. The characters are so sad and unchanging- Charlie Sheen womanizes time after time, Jon Cryer keeps being uptight and socially inept and Angus T. Jones is just a half-grown up kid who might mirror his uncle or maybe his father. Really? For 7 seasons now? It’s ridiculous! Sure, we can talk for hours about Charlie Sheen and his shenanigans, but that fact of the matter is that original, well-scripted, compelling and creative television shows get canceled or are never even considered because networks cling to what makes money, and frankly, what makes money isn’t usually the greatest. I know that we should please the public and I see nothing wrong with sitcom format, but Two & A Half Men just irks me uncontrollably.

So, receiving this very news that Two & A Half Men might receive cancellation? I don’t want to say that I’ve won, internet, but just know that I woke up breathing a little easier. Also, I wrote a song about this matter years ago. I even mentioned Charlie Sheen by name! (GASP!!!)

Just between us, maybe my music is prophetical? Perhaps I can predict the future with lyrical lines? What ever will I do with such power, internet?!?!

Remind me to write a song about The Beatles coming back to life and reuniting. That, and one about puppies staying young forever. Oh, and maybe one about me having a successful tv show in the future. Also, animals talking. Any requests?

(photo credit: here)


Dear Ukulele,

I don’t talk, or type, about you enough.

You are the least intimidating, cutest instrument on the face of the planet. You are easy to learn and people fall in love with you as soon as they see you, due to your size. I can sing along, I can make stuff up, and not a lot sounds bad with your four strings.

You were my companion to freshman year loneliness (and my new roommate!) my summer plaything and you have always been portable and fun. Now, you’re my ticket into coffee shops and venues. Because my dream to become the next  Janis Joplin or Envy Adams of The Clash At Demonhead is not a reality yet (unless you or the internet know any struggling rock and roll boys that need a slightly feisty female to lead), for now it’s ukulele and my voice, and recently, accompanied by guitar and another fabulous lady. I can play little ditties on you and strum patterns and on a sunny day, make everyone feel slightly like we’re in Hawaii…even if we’re just on the concrete apartment porch.

You could have been a trend, uke. I could have picked you up temporarily and then let go when the next tiny instrument craze came along, but you fit into my fingers so well and stuck with me and now I’m hard-pressed to go anywhere without you. My friends all got ukuleles too and now we’re a family! Or at least a group of enthusiasts. Or just that annoying band that won’t stop. Something like that.

Oh, and the internet LOVES you, ukulele! Seriously, you make every song better. Like this, this, this and especially THIS! With you in my hands, there’s nothing I can’t accomplish. So thank you, ukulele. I would be awful sad and a lot less musical if you ever left my side.



(Ps, that picture is by the wildly talented Victorio, of course!)

A Love Letter To Plaid

Dear Plaid,

I don’t know what it is about you, but things between us are getting pretty serious. My best friend is a rather huge fan of you, I’ve always been drawn to your lines, but lately it’s becoming a habit to wear you every single day. We can blame the weather, I mean, Texans such as myself are NOT equipped or enjoyable in temperatures below 60 already and it is near freezing, although I think now that we’re bonded, I would wear you anyway. I’m drawn to your best counterpart- long-sleeved soft flannels. Only problem is, plaid, I can’t stop! I choose from my ever-growing collection and throw you on like a proud badge. However, a question, if you will. Why do the menswear clothing racks always get the best picks, plaid? I search for you in women’s sections and always end up migrating towards the other side of the store, pretending to be buying for a burly timber-cutting amigo. Doesn’t matter though, I am an addict, and warm striped flannel-y goodness is my only fix, whether the price tag is marked for my own gender or not.

You know, plaid, maybe this new-found appreciation stems from the recent realization that the greatest profession on this earth is a that of a lumberjack? After all, you get to stay warm with layers, work with your hands, eat as many pancakes as you can for every meal, and most importantly, it’s plaid 24/7! Am I considering this profession seriously? Of course not…except occasionally I get this song stuck in my head when I wear you. But that’s probably my own fault, and possibly the fault of many high school choir performances back in the day.

Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for keeping me warm and stylish. I would be so much colder without you. Also, I would probably look less like a Nirvana groupie, but I guess it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

Caffeinated Conspiracy

It’s time to admit it- we as a society judge people based on their Starbucks orders.

  • Strawberries-and-Creme-Frappuccino-With-Extra-Whipped-Cream: If you’re over 14, don’t even try to order this baby without getting a few stares. It’s pink and fluffy…there is no excuse.
  • Tea of any kind: WARNING: YOU ARE CLASSY and someone who doesn’t need any extra caffeine because you’re considering the world’s biggest problems over this mellow cup.
  • Caramel Macchiato: Okay, okay, Sparky, did you have no originality? Everyone and their mom orders this.
  • Hot Chocolate: Are you kidding me? You held up the line for a sugar fix? We coffee elite are rolling our eyes in unison.

And of course, there’s the elusive BLACK COFFEE. BC drinkers are the hardest to pin down. What’s their motive? Are they trying to seem better than everyone else by insisting that they don’t need sugar and cream? Are they an adult with no need for excitement? Do they have taste buds?!?!

BC is a mixed message, but, giftcard in hand, I took the plunge.

Today; Starbucks; Approx 3:13 PM

Sauntering up to the cash register amidst a sea of Venti Mochas and Chocolate-syrup-based concoctions, I set out to order the most complex drink I’d ever encountered.

"Tall black coffee."

I’ll admit, I caved and got some sugar added, but I confidently said the order and instantly felt more refined. Staring out at my caffeinated peers, the effects of my soon-to-be-had drink started instantly. Look at these brainwashed consumers! Paying triple for frills and colors that I don’t need! I’m drinking the truth! I’m holding my cup up as an ambassador to living simply!

The barista who took my order approaches the pickup area.

"A tall bold?!"

I scanned the rest of the sea of patrons. Who is ordering styles of fonts in here?

"Did you have the bold?"

Suddenly the barista points to me. I walk over, high on my cloud of feeling black-coffee-betterness, smile his direction slyly and say,

"Oh no, I had the tall coffee of the day."

He rolls his eyes and then I feel it…the better-than-thou coffee tables have turned.

"Yes, this is the coffee of the day," he replies. "It's bold."

I stagger out an,

 "oh, umm...thanks!"

and hang my head as I exit quickly.

Sleeved-drink in hand, I turn back to face that green and black logo and realize that there’s no point in this coffee competition. As soon as I learn how to order something supposedly better than the rest, I’m knocked down again by the voice of reason, or this time, by the voice of a lanky blond employee who had no merriment for my mistaken order.

Starbucks-1, Kelsey-0.

But I’ll be back, Starby’s. I’ll be back with a vengeance…and probably with a silly order and extra whipped cream, cause that stuff is darn good.


Sometimes I remember that I love cliched girls-before-going-out-on-the-town pictures.

Sometimes getting stuck in traffic is wonderful, if it means getting to listen to an entire album and sing along with your best friend with hand motions at stoplights.

Sometimes looking at Christmas lights and hearing holiday greetings makes me get all sappy and over-emotionally happy. Thanks, X chromosomes.

Sometimes I spend an entire day glued to a book I cannot put down for anything in the world, only to feel both relieved and accomplished from the marvelous journey but also sad at the end cause I’ll miss the characters.

Sometimes I drink coffee four times a day and brush it off like it’s normal.

Sometimes I take the whole playing-music-for-a-living dream seriously for about ten minutes and it is both the most exciting thing and the most scary thing in my brain. So, when I’m stuck between taking music seriously and having fun, I strike a happy medium. And sometimes, more often than not, that results in a little happy song.

Merry Christmas Eve Eve! Feel free to send me some snow, it’s 75 degrees and humid here in Texas. Hopefully Santa packed a tank top.