Tag Archives: white girl problems


I think I just must be allergic to “crushes”.

I realize that writing that sentence is the closest to Carrie Bradshaw that I’ve ever sounded, but I’m feeling that it is true. I don’t write this blog from a sappy doe-eyed girl perspective on relationships, (although I have been there once or twice) but I just feel like admitting it- I find it hard to just ‘like’ someone all of the sudden. And I don’t say this from a temporarily-scorned-i’ll-never-love-again point of view, I really mean that if my history shows anything, it’s that I don’t get all jumpy jittery and crush-crazy over boys. Not notably often, at least. We can call this a white girl problem, but hey, this blog is my tiny corner of the internet, and so I will illuminate it with whatever is on my mind, and today it’s this predicament.

I know people who say they get this “crush” feeling too often or just accept it as a part of life, but I feel like I’m neither or like I’m doing something wrong for not constantly having a beau to talk about or steal gazes from or dream of. However, feelings can’t be manufactured, and so I’m stuck being somewhat comfortable on my own.

I mean, I do love people; I do have feelings, I swear! My family takes up a huge part in my heart, my friends make me sing happy-go-lucky songs about them, and most of my favorite songwriters evoke feelings of attachment. Heck, I even write little love letters to SONGS. But for some reason, I happen to lack the crazy butterfly-like rush, or at least its popular frequency.

I feel like I’m supposed to be more boy-crazy. Does this sound crazy on its own? DOES THAT MAKE ME CRAAAZY?

I can count my so-called past ‘crushes’ of my short 20 years on one hand.  I’d go as far to say that I feel like I relate to Cady Heron and her African love ‘Nfume’ in this sense. Take that as you may.

So, now that you’ve made it this far into this post, you must be wondering- why am I jumping all over the place with my words and emotional run-on sentences? Two words: The Wombats.

Yes, I’ll blame this fantastic song by The Wombats that has been on repeat for days for bringing it out of me, so, internet, turn up your speakers and let me lay it on you-


Maybe I was spoiled by movies and tricked by tv shows into thinking I should have my own complicated love triangle happening by now. Maybe it’s because I’m at the age where I’m apparently supposed to have my five-year plan mapped out, including my picturesque wedding and marriage. Maybe it’s because for years I wanted to have someone to giggle about at 7th grade sleepovers but lacked a muse. Maybe it’s because I have to keep promising myself that I’m not a freak for not giving my little affections away so easily.

But all I have to say is that-


Because, honestly, I just have to think that it’s not about ‘crushes’ and mind games and that I’m NOT weird for not constantly having someone I dream about.

When and if this whole stomach-butterflies-flapping-and-crushed -to-the-ground event happens, I’m serious when I admit that you’ll find me with my eyes glazed over, listening to Ella Fitzgerald on my record player and sighing and giggling like a lucky sap should, but for now, I’m not there. And after all, I’m sure you’d much rather read coherent sentences rather than “OMGHEISSOHOTANDPERFECT<3<3” over and over again.


(And internet, I promise you that when this rare crush feeling stumbles upon me, rest assured that I do turn into a bumbling idiot. Did that happen this week unexpectedly and maybe prompt me saying all of this in the first place and remaining confused? Ehh, I’ll let you decide, internet. But aren’t you glad you read the small text? So illuminating, I know.)

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)


(Preface: Sometimes I have white girl problems, or problems that don’t really matter and are silly and not life-threatening in the slightest. Also, someone on twitter has this field covered completely. If you need to learn more- click here. Genius.)

Ultimate White Girl Problem of my life: I don’t know why I don’t already have a professional photographer following me and my friends around paparazzi-style and documenting our everyday existence!

Seriously, there are so many moments that, I think, when captured on film, might just change the world.

Well that, and I’m a little selfish and I like looking at my friends and having cool vintage-y deeply focused shots of every little thing I do. I blame this visual now-generation I was born into. I also blame you, blogosphere. I mean, really, there’s so many blogs that exist simply to put richly-colored 3x5s out there for the viewing public to admire.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, this little blog will never be that way. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE photos and try to take as many as I can, but I’m no professional. I adore photoblogs and google image search obsessively, but when it comes down to it, I am most often a woman of words. That, and I’m a college student, so expensive cameras evade me. However, I will try my darndest to mix both mediums! Collaboration is key.

Anyway, this dream of being followed by multiple Canon EOS 5D Mark IIs (she’s a beauty) and getting every little stoplight reaction, walk to and from class, fill up at the gas station, dollar store run, high five, nap, and all the rest captured in high definition is still a work in progress. For now, a photo booth at our good friends’ wedding a few weeks ago will have to do the trick in capturing just a little snippet into the life I feel beyond blessed to have.

Thanks, Central Texas J-Booth! And psst…wanna start following us around? Just thought I’d ask.