some days

some days i see a penny on the ground but i pass it by because i figure other people could use the luck more than me

some days all i want to do is eat bread. and cereal. and pasta. and say screw it if carbs make you fat.

some days i'll wake up and turn on the shower before i realize it's the middle of the night.

some days i wonder if there really is life outside of the box i've been shut in.

some days i wonder if there is much life inside the box, either.

some days i dream of dark wood floors, starched white bedsheets, creamy walls and gauzy curtains. a pristine bedroom in a tiny apartment dangling above a dirty city that promises to swallow me whole.

some days i curl up in a chair and spend the day reading childhood favorites because i'm just too tired to worry about the future right then.

some days i buy fancy makeup only to put it on once, hate it, and never wear it again.

and some days i would be embarrassed to admit how often this happens.

some days i go through conversations in my head that i know i'll never have simply because i want to see how they would've played out.

some days i do absolutely nothing besides listen to music for hours.

some days i just listen the same song on repeat.

some days i cry for no reason. but more days i laugh out loud at random memories. some days this gets me awkward glances. but occasionally someone will smile as if they wish they had something to laugh at that day, too.

some days i'm not sure if anyone in the world actually knows anything, me most of all. but then i question if knowing you don't know anything is a form of knowing in itself. and then i wonder why i'm thinking about this at all.

some days the most basic of tasks seem foreign to me, as if by being so normal they've suddenly becoming confusing.

some days i briefly entertain crazy weird ideas before i come to my senses and think about more practical things. but some days i wish i didn't always have to come to my senses right before things could get interesting.

some days i catch myself dancing to music no one else can hear at work. and my coworkers will avert their eyes and look away as if strangeness is contagious.

some days i keep dancing anyway.

some days i'll stay up ridiculously late when i know i have to wake up early the next day. and although i always hate myself in the morning, i don't really consider this a bad way to spend my time.

some days i'll read my old diaries and blush at how naive i was. and then i have to wonder what i'll think about my current diary when i read it ten years from now.

some days i then contemplate burning all my diaries to ensure that no one, myself especially, can ever ever read them again.

some days i think i'm a cat person. other days i love dogs. and on rare days, a chia pet seems the best way to go.

some days, summer exhausts me much more than the school year ever could.

some days i get started with something and don't know how to stop, so i just leave it under-construction with a perpetual promise to return. and i never do.

and some days i am simply content to be where i am in life. 
those are the best days.


by the way, remember those books i was going to sell?

You know, the ones that were going to help me Move Forward with my life, for once. The ones that were going to get me out of that rut I've been stuck in 
for so long.


I sold 25 books. 

I received $24.

Let's be real. That money will not be going toward my Europe fund. It'll probably be going toward my Starbucks fund.



I was robbed.

i felt like baking today. i think there's something wrong with me.

Seriously. I don't do ANYTHING involving the kitchen beyond pouring myself a bowl of cereal or making toast.
And today, for some strange and unsettling reason, I went insane
I made dinner. HEALTHY food. 

AND dessert.

I don't know what to do with myself right now. I feel so lost and confused.

For the record, though, they were deliciousBut that fact still doesn't make me any less worried about my mental health. {If anyone is interested, I have recipes. Well, sort of. I don't really know how to measure things. I just kind of toss in the ingredients until it looks good...}

1) Cauliflower stir fry 
2) Baked yam with yogurt and cinnamon
3) Baked apple with cream soda, sugar and cinnamon 
{oh my God, soooo amazing}

I've also been on this weird cinnamon kick lately. As in, cinnamon has been an addition to EVERY meal I've eaten in the past week. I really don't know what's happening to me.

I think I need to go lie down.


okay, i'm a little bit puzzled here:


This is not even in English! How am I supposed to type in the security code when it's not in my freaking language?

This is ridiculous. And yet oddly entertaining.



Today, dearies, is my 20.5 birthday. 

Only six more months until I'm old {officially} and have to start acting adultish. The thought of being 21 is even more daunting/exciting than turning 20 {which I know makes no sense, but I'll do an actual post about my pre-21-years anxiety when my birthday begins to loom over my head} 

Luckily for me, I still have six months to contemplate the birthday repercussions.
So I'm not going to think about that right now. I need to do a bunch of kid things while I still can.

Like, you know, carry around one of those delicious giant rainbow lollipops, run barefoot through sprinklers, color with Crayolas in Disney Princess coloring books, and wear jumpers, boots and colored tights around town {okay, this I will be doing when I am an Adult, responsibility and sophistication be damned}...

That's what kids do, right?

Yeah, those things are definitely on my next-six-months To Do list.

Can you guys think of any other "kid" things I need to get out of my system before I need to start thinking about rent and groceries and life insurance??

it's true. patience is a virtue. it's just one i don't possess.

Okay. Tiny rant time.

Is there anything more annoying than road construction?
Besides road construction when you're trying to get to a movie and it starts at 6:35 and it's 6:25 and you pass a sign that says "Construction next 10 miles" and every car ahead of you in the foreseeable future is going 15 miles an hour.
15 miles a-freaking-hour!

Cars are not built to go that slow, people. That's the point of cars. If I had to go this slow the entire way, I would have just walked. At least that way I'd be burning calories instead of wasting my life away sitting in a car moving slower than a toddler can crawl. 

And it's not just this road. I swear every road in this town is currently undergoing some kind of construction. Yes, every road in this town, every year I've been alive. 
Come on, guys.

I mean, I know winter can be hard on roads and all, but please. Are you telling me that you have to spend all summer reconstructing every road a car touched over the winter? Is it not possible to fix a road one year so it lasts, I don't know, two years? Or even three? {okay, gasp, I might be going too far there}
I really have no patience for this sort of thing.

And, when you're moving at 15 miles an hour, there is no way to protect yourself from weedy construction workers who come up to your window and wave and leer at you before laughing and rejoining their friends. Besides the fact that this is SUPER FREAKING CREEPY and uncomfortable, it also makes you realize why nothing ever gets done around here, seeing as how all of the workers are off being sleazy, hitting on young girls in cars instead of ACTUALLY DOING THE WORK THEY'RE BEING PAID TO DO.
I know, I know, right? Actually working. Novel concept.

This town is draining my soul.

those lazy hazy crazy days of summer.

Summer and I have always had a strange, rocky relationship. I know, I know, everyone's probably reading this with their mouth agape, frantically asking themselves, 'Who doesn't like summer? What is wrong with this girl??' And it's not that I don't like summer. 

Let me try to explain

I know there is so much to love about this season. Panini sandwiches and orange-peach soup on a dirty picnic table. Radioactive fruit punch to match your chipping manicure. Huge spotted flowers as bright as sunshine, a pool so blue it hurts to stare at it for too long, and lazy nights with best friends sharing stories and watching trash television {we're talking Vampire Diaries here, people}. Strappy sandals, short dresses and long necklaces, fireflies, grilled hotdogs, outdoor concerts, sparklers, sticky nights, oversized sunglasses, road trips and iced coffee. And then there are the things you can't capture with a camera.

The perfect silence of the world underwater.
The sweet yet tangy scent of cherry blossom shampoo.
The unsurpassable delight of fresh fruit with yogurt and iced tea with lemons. 
The burn of your calves after running three miles in the oppressive heat. 
The glide of warm coconut sunscreen on your shoulders and arms.
Those old favourite songs that take you back to another day, so long ago now, pulling weeds with your mother in the garden.
Long afternoons getting lost in a book under a floppy hat and giant umbrella. 
Even longer nights counting the stars from the back of a truck bed.
The freedom from classes and homework and professors.
The anticipation of the upcoming school year.
Okay, so maybe this last one is a little weird.
Don't judge; I like school...

But when it comes down to it, summer has always been a transition time for me, a waiting period between two actual periods of my life. Summer is usually fairly low-key, and while this can be nice for a week or two, sooner or later I'm craving the excited bustle of of fall and the cozy togetherness of winter.

Plus, I hate the heat. I am seriously the cold-weather, sweater-loving, scarf-wearing, hot-coffee-drinking kind of girl. So sometimes I can't help but wish summer away.

Although, I have to admit:

Today was the perfect summer day.

And while I am eager to jump back into the craze of August, I have to say, I wouldn't hate another day like today.

There was some hard-core rhyming going on in those last few sentences. It's freaking me out a little.

Song by Nat King Cole


most days of the year are unremarkable. they begin and they end with no lasting memory made in between. most days have no impact on the course of a life.

I watched (500) Days of Summer tonight. For like, the 9th time. Shhhh. It's not like I'm obsessed or anything...

Besides remembering how much I adore this song {and this one. and this one}, this movie always makes me remember one thing, something I think I sometimes forget in my 
quest to "live" life. Whatever that means.

But the point to (500) Days of Summer is not about losing love and learning to love again. It's about opening yourself up to the possibility that not everything that happens in your life has to change everything. Some things just are. Some things just happen. Life is made up of these little moments that, in the grand scheme of things, may not have much impact on your life. And yet, looking back, it is these moments just as much as the significant ones that make you who you are. Just because something isn't "life-changing" doesn't mean it won't change your life, even if only in some small, unnoticeable way. And it is these inconsequential moments that prepare you to face {and survive} the major ones.

Everyone wants to live for those instants of magnitude, the ones you know {or don't yet know} as soon as they happen will forever change you. However, I don't think it's healthy to put aside those times that have "no impact on the course of a life" simply because they don't carry the weight you crave. It might do us all a bit of good to pay attention to those everyday moments every once in a while, because it is these moments that make up the bulk of your life. I don't want to disregard the small stuff.

I want to be able to look back and see how every moment in my life wove together beautifully to shape the person I am and the person I will one-day be.
And of course, (500) Days of Summer also makes me remember {although how could I really forget?} the overwhelming cuteness that is Joseph Gordon-Levitt...


we all exist within the realm of possibility.

Depths Down the Road

Whenever I go for a run, I don't look at the road ahead of me.

Instead, I look at the sky.

It makes going the distance easier, in a way, less daunting. The road ahead seems so long, so twisting, so narrow. It's confining. It's exhausting. But the sky...

The sky is wide and open and inviting. In the sky, there are no paths, there is only space and potentiality. The birds are dancing, the clouds mold themselves into stories for my own amusement, and somehow, SOMEHOW, all of this makes me feel a little less tied down to the earth and a little more free.

I know I still have to travel the road ahead of me, but I prefer not to focus on the path I have to take. I want to look up at the sky and believe, even for just a moment, that the path doesn't exist, that this unrestrained realm of possibilities is all there is.

Title quote: "The Realm of Possibility" - David Leviathan


being wallpaper isn't so bad.

I’m that loner in the corner of Starbucks. You know the person I’m talking about. It’s really nice to just be by myself for a change, to be able to sit here in a coffee shop in Lawrence and surf the internet and read John Green and sip my light caramel Frappuccino* and observe all of the strange and awesome people passing by the window in front of me. I just saw one woman walking by the store with a newspaper on her head. I love this town.

But I forget how much I enjoy just being alone. I sometimes think to myself, oh my God, I’m such a loser sitting here at home when I could be out partying… However, when it comes down to it, I’m a loner.

It’s who I am.

Maybe that’s sad, maybe I am odd. But I find comfort in just being with my own thoughts. It helps me to, I don’t know, collect myself somehow, to fortify myself. It’s hard to explain. I adore all my friends, but at the same time, I would go insane if I always had to be hanging out with someone. I mean, my closest friends and I clicked the moment we met, and I wouldn’t trade the time I’ve spent with them for anything. But I guess no one can ever really get you like you get yourself.

Because when I’m with myself, I can do what I want when I want. I can just be me. I don’t have to be fun and impressive and exciting and talkative.

I can just be.

Sometimes you need to just be, you know?

* I NEVER get flavored coffee. I have this thing about drinking my calories. It’s like, if I’m going to be consuming something, I would like it to be actual food. Because, let’s be honest, I really love to eat. And I really really love strong black coffee, so this normally works out. But today, when it’s a hundred degrees outside and I’ve been chasing around high schoolers all afternoon (I’m a counselor at a journalism camp this week), hot coffee wasn’t really going to work for me. And even thought this frappuccino has that bitter aspartame aftertaste, it is, at this moment, the most delicious thing I’ve ever had. And I don’t feel guilty. So I consider this a win all around.


so bring on the rain and bring on the thunder.


There was a thunderstorm last night. 

Not just any thunderstorm, but one where it seemed as if hell itself had redeclared war on the heavens, as if the lightening had finally succeeded in shattering the sky to bring it down to crush us while we slept. The house groaned as the wind hammered relentlessly against its old and worn siding, desperately trying to withstand the wind's attempt to rip the house from its very foundation. And I'll admit it, for the first time since I was a little girl, the storm actually spooked me. Here I am, a 20-year-old woman, clutching my blankets under my chin and wondering if my world was going to end in a fiery explosion with the next crack of lightening, if my eardrums would burst with the next roar of thunder, if the earth wouldn't just open up and swallow itself whole.

It was one of those nights from cheap horror films. I kept imagining every creak to be a serial killer carefully climbing out of my closet, knife at the ready to carve out my heart and add it to his collection. Every rattle was the slow breath of a black-clad reaper coming to collect my soul. Every power surge was the last light I would ever see save perpetually blinding flashes of lightening, plunging me into an eternity of black to white to darkness and back.

I usually love thunderstorms. There is something so provocative about their raw yet elegant display of power.

The endings and infinity of it all.

But last night was different. My bed never felt so empty and cold. All I wanted to do was roll over and cuddle up next to a warm body. To have strong arms hold me and keep me safe from the end of the world. To have someone softly whisper fairy tales in my ear until the end of the world didn't matter.

To fall asleep to a heartbeat more compelling than the storms raging outside.

Title song: "Thunder" -Boys Like Girls


everyone's the same, our fingers to our toes. we just can't get it right, but we're on the road.

So I posted a few days ago about his awesome bookshelf I finally got for my room.

And I've officially organized it. Well, mostly. There's still a small pile of books sitting in the corner of my room that don't have a home {plus there's two more bookshelves in my basement, but I'm not even going to attempt to tackle those right now}. If books can look sad, then my books in the corner look sad right now. Homeless. Rejected. But I promised them I'd find their proper place eventually.
Like I said, slow going.

Anyway, here it is in all its glory...

But before all of this happened, after seeing my book collection displayed in haphazard towers around my room, I was truly able to comprehend {perhaps for the first time} the fact that I have way too many books. Books that I have had since early high school and even before that; books that I haven't read and don't really plan to.
And yet I've never been able to get rid of them.

In fact, the very thought of getting rid of them made my chest tighten and my breath catch slightly in the back of my throat. Which kind of made me wonder, why was I desperately clutching these books like they held any meaning for me? How can I care about something that I never even gave myself the chance to experience?

And then I realized it.

I've failed.

Like so many other projects I've begun over the years, I've failed to finish them. When I bought these books, I was making some sort of contract with myself that I would read them, that I would allow them {in some small way} to enrich my life, even if that enrichment is simply the few hours of enjoyment had by reading them.
And I've failed.

I've failed my books. I've failed my bank account.

And I've failed myself. 

I'm just tired of failing. I've never known how to let go of my failures and move on. It seems like everything I ever start, I am never able to finish. I'm impulsive, I'm easily bored, and I have problems making any real advancements in my life. It's as if every time I am able to scoot forward a little, I get stuck in a rut right before I'm about to step out into the street. Rut after rut after rut in this vicious cycle, a cycle that I have no idea how to break. There is so much I want to accomplish in my life, so much I want to do. I have all of these CRAZY BIG AMBITIOUS plans, which, in the darkest depths of my mind, I am petrified will never become my reality. I just don't want my own limitations to get in my way, to hold me back from living the life I would give anything to live. 

But I don't know how to be any other way than the way I am. Is it really possible to change? And I mean to really change yourself, from the tips of your toes to the follicles of your hair. To be the person you weren't really born to be but desperately want to be anyway. And I have to wonder at the same time, is it healthy to want to be different? Or are you just supposed to embrace your flaws and try to make the best of them? I've always believed people should perpetually be working on themselves, always striving toward their ideal of life and love and happiness. We should never cease to challenge ourselves, to push ourselves a little further everyday. 
And if I'm being honest, I just let things happen to me. I've been comfortable for too long. And being comfortable is really just being stuck.

I don't want to be stuck any longer. 

Moving forward is impossible until you make the conscious decision to move forward. And even then, moving forward is not an event. It is not something that you can ever reach. Moving forward is a constant effort, a struggle every second of every day to be a better person. To be the person you want to be. Moving forward can be painful and unpleasant and embarrassing and terrifying, but it can also also beautiful and exciting and joyous. It's about finally leaving the stagnant pool where you've been swimming in circles. It's about making an adventure out of ordinary life until ordinary life doesn't exist. Until every moment is extraordinary.

Moving on isn't a point you reach.

Moving on is about your own personal journey as you push toward this impossible, imaginary, naive and silly goal.

So I'm going to move on from these ruts. I will break this cycle, and I will do everything I dream in life.  Everything and more. Because I don't want to wake up old and broken and empty, filled with regrets and leftovers from nights of eating alone. I don't want to waste any more life than I feel I already have.

So it all starts with these books.

On Monday, I'm selling them to a used bookstore. And I will put the money from this failure toward another dream. Next spring, I will be moving to England to study for a semester. I've been saving for years, I'm almost there, and out of the ruin of my inadequacy will come something even better

And perhaps that was the purpose of this failure after all: to help me realize a goal much more powerful, more meaningful, more enriching.

A goal that has the potential to drag me from the rut and out into busy streets where I may be blinded by the harsh sunlight but finally able to breathe the fresh new air. 

Title song: "All Fall Down" - OneRepublic


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