Dear Reader,

I’ve sort of abandoned this website for a few weeks (only two, but it feels like longer). I’ve been really bad at reading up on blogs and even worse at updating my own. I guess I have a few excuses though. Second semester has started, which means recruitment has started, and all of my professors decided to just jump right in (which is why I already have loads of work). Additionally, my laptop is being worked on because it malfunctioned on the second day of the semester and I won’t be getting back for a few weeks because it is currently sitting in ‘the queue.’

But I want to get back into writing and blogging and making videos and all of that. Being back at Miami is strange, and I was actually planning on writing a post about it, but I still don’t know if I can explain what I mean. I have a few posts like that in my head that I actually need to get around to writing them. I need to get back to utilizing this outlet. There’s something about getting things down on paper that is so therapeutic and clarifying and Lord knows I could use some therapy and clarity in my life right now.

Ooh and side note, I’m thinking of taking up yoga.

Right now that’s all it is, though. Just thoughts. I’m thinking of writing a ‘if we were having coffee’ post and maybe a post about feminism or the importance of language or even Macklemore and I have a few finished books I need to write a review on, like Mindy Kaling’s ‘Why Not Me?” and John Green’s “Will Grayson, Will Grayson.” But it’s the getting around to doing them that is the struggle.

As per usual.

But, hey, at least I got around to writing a post about nothing.






Dear Reader,

I don’t know how I’m going to be a functioning adult living in the real world. And it’s not just because I get anxious on most phone calls (and even going through drive-thrus for that matter) or because I can’t keep my room clean or because I still get help from my parents when it comes to things like doing my taxes or opening jars of spaghetti sauce.

It’s because I’m scared.

Of everything.

I’m constantly paranoid. I always jump to conclusions and scare myself beyond anything rationable. Maybe I just watch too much TV or maybe it’s my vindictive vivid imagination at work, but it’s a pain because I can’t help it. It’s stupid, but I can’t help it. So I’ve decided to outline some of the stupid things I’ve thought and done because of my absurd paranoia.

Things I Have Done:

  • believed I was pregnant, on two different occasions, before ever having sex
  • cried while playing the piano because every song reminded me of my sister and I currently thought she was dying because she was in the hospital for something minor
  • called the police when I was in seventh grade because I was home alone and thought someone was in my house but it was really just snow. (I might elaborate on this story another time because it’s actually ridiculous)
  • thought, when a car drove by: They have a gun. I’m the only one on this street. And they’re going to shoot me. I’ll just be the random casualty of the day. (this happens quite frequently)
  • when my parents were late coming home from a movie the other night, and the weather was terrible, believed that they surely had gotten into an accident and died, and Sean, Sarah and I would have to move home and try to support each other as orphans
  • called friends, on multiple occasions, freaking out because I heard noises in my house
  • believed that me/my house/someone in my house was being haunted by a bad spirit (this one was fortunately debunked later, or else it would still surely keep me up at night)
  • woke up my parents because I was crying about the inevitability of death and the possibility of the nonexistence of God
  • had a panic attack during a shower for the same reason
  • believed that I was going to get shot while seeing a movie in my hometown

And then we have today:

  • heard creepy music from the basement (specifically the flutey music that plays in those western films when the tumbleweed blows through), grabbed my dog, got in the car, and left my house because I was sure a serial killer was going to murder me and the music was for his (or her–I don’t want to promote stereotypes) own sadistic pleasure.
  • later I returned and decided to investigate (with my dog by my side) and discovered that it was the ringtone of a phone left by one of my dad’s friends from the night before.
  • the irony? this incident interrupted the video I was filming today–a video where I was dancing in every room, singing until I was screaming, and talking to myself as loudly as I can because I was demonstrating how wonderful it is when you have the house to yourself

So let’s recap. I live in a very safe community in the suburbs of Ohio and I go to a school in the middle of nowhere where the crime rate is relatively low and the closest city is forty minutes away where I have irrational thoughts like these on a day-to-day basis. Yet I have dreams of moving to New York City or possibly working in inner city schools or even traveling the world alone.

The foreseeably problematic future is not lost on me.

In the (paraphrased) words of Mindy Kaling (I’ll find the real quote later): It’s disappointing when our aspirations aren’t matched with our abilities.





Dear Reader,

I’m sure this video interests no one but giving Sarah her presents this year was one of my favorite parts of break so far and I had a good time recording it and editing it (and then showing that to her and laughing about even more stupid things) so here it is for anyone who wants to watch it.





Dear Reader,

At the beginning of 2015, I started a bucket list in the hopes that at the end of the year, I would be somewhat more talented, worldly, or just have done more stuff, I guess. Although I didn’t get to complete everything on the list (when do I ever, really?) I did do a lot this year that I’m proud of. So I thought I’d make this recap.

In 2015 I…

  • became an Aunt


  • rushed (and joined) a sorority



  • went somewhere new (Gatlingburg, TN)


  • watched 50 new movies
  • made a jar for memories (and gave it to Sarah)


  • was more confident in a bathing suit than I have been, but we’re still working on it
  • wrote at least 3 letters to 23-year-old Sammy
  • ran a 5k (and took HORRIBLE pictures but I’ll post them here anyway)


  • finished my daily sudoku puzzles (from 2014)
  • went to a concert (Ed Sheeran!!)
  • watched the sunrise


  • learned how to use chopsticks
  • joined a new club (lol yay CLT!)
  • explored interesting buildings on campus that I’ve never seen before


  • wrote a letter


  • took a hot bath/had a spa day (this is the most scandalous pic I’ve ever taken)



  • learned how to tap dance (more or less)
  • started a YouTube channel


  • took a road trip with Sarah!


  • used the ouija board for the first time in years (I’m planning on telling that story on here eventually)

and the last thing on my bucket list was:

  • be someone’s inspiration for 2016–I don’t know if I actually did that one but it was a good one to keep on here nonetheless


So here’s to 2015, and here’s to the new year! If you feel inclined, I would love to know what some of your highlights of the year were in the comments! Also, leave any suggestions for a 2016 bucket list–Sarah agreed to join me this year and we have some big things planned. 🙂




Dear Reader,


I’ve told a few people that I have this thing called a “drunk journal” in my notes on my phone where, in true Hemingway style, I write only after I’ve had a few. What I don’t tell people is what I write in it. Or when.

Because sometimes I write in it after I catch a reflection of myself in a mirror and decide to excuse myself from a party and walk home alone.

And sometimes I turn to it when I find myself in a corner, not talking to anyone and silently refusing to make the effort myself.

It’s not all bad, though. Some of the things I find on it are really amusing (and rather questionable), but because I really don’t write in it too often (surprise! I’m not an alcoholic!), the majority are just sentences that look like the last time I wrote:

“Sometimes I think if I wore makeup, maybe I’d get a man.”

What a stupid (and truly embarrassing) thing to say. In the act of full disclosure, though, I’m sharing it here because these are the fleeting thoughts that I shrug off when I’m sober, but can’t let go of when I’m drunk and everything seems to become clear as the guys approach my attractive friends and I am left to turn to my glass and pick up my phone.

I’m doing the Happiness Project this year, which essentially consists of making monthly goals or resolutions that will help you become a better person and make you, in turn, happier. I’ve been rattling my brain for a while now thinking of “themes” for my months. For example, January is to get organized, and I wanted other to be things like “get active,” “get passionate,” and “get educated.”

In the past I’ve always thought, “okay this is the year where I’ll start getting getting fit,” or “this is the summer where I turn pretty.” And even when I was thinking of this project, I’ve thought “maybe this year I’ll learn how to do my makeup or build an actual wardrobe.” 

But I want to get rid of all of that. I’ve always said that I want to work on the inside the most, but my outer appearance has always been of equal importance.

Not this year.

I have this new image of the girl who will be writing her conclusion in a year. And maybe she looks exactly as I do right now–sitting braless at my computer with my second-day hair messily swept to the left side of my neck and my nail polish black and chipped.

Ah, the unattractive picture of a girl whose life is anything but together.


But she’s not the same girl as me, and her life is together. She’s intelligent and quick-witted and funny and she’s so caring and loving and radiates warmth everywhere she goes. She doesn’t take life too seriously, because she can recognize what’s important. And she doesn’t care what people think about her because she has learned how to make herself happy.

So maybe she doesn’t know how to apply eyeliner or have the willpower to choose salads over burgers, but this is the girl you want to meet. Well, maybe not everyone. Because she understands that everyone has their own opinion and even the most well-liked person is disliked by someone. She has no trouble remembering this, though.

She is truly herself and okay with it–happy, even–in every single way.

But oh my gosh you have to read this girl’s drunk journal! It’s hysterical.

And not at all depressing.




Dear Reader,

I posted an unattractive picture of myself on Instagram today (no filter) because it made me laugh.   

That’s something that’s been on my mind a lot lately. What people find to be funny and how important that can be. 

I’ve never quite been a “class clown” type character, and even in friend groups where I’m the one receiving the most laughs, it’s usually because my sense of humor (and the jokes I tell) is (are) obnoxious. 

And if there was every something I wanted to be so badly it was “the funny one.”

No one can deny how good it feels to make someone laugh. And–even more egotistically–how good it feels to be labeled as funny. But I’ve always been too insecure to actually feel like I’m funny (probably because I’m insecure about everything). 

I’ve been so obsessed with comedians and all different styles of comedy. I read all these hilarious autobiographies and watch clips and TV shows like Last Comic Standing and Whose Line and SNL. I am obsessed with my school’s improv troupe, and I so desperately wish I could be a part of something like that, but I know I’ll probably never put myself out there in such a way. 

Because there are two things I know for sure: 

1. Not everyone can do it. And that’s the sad truth. And I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to think that quickly or keep my face from getting red or manage to not trip over my speech in front of a crowd. I mean how could I–a shaky, red-faced nobody–be able to deliver a punchline?

2. You have to have confidence. Or, at least, you have to fake confidence. 

All of my favorite people and comedians and even YouTubers are the ones who know they’re funny. And that’s at least half the battle. 

There’s a great quote from Bossypants where Tina Fey describes Amy Poehler through an exchange she had with Jimmy Fallon that proved one single point: she did everything she did because she wanted to, and she didn’t care who did (or didn’t) like it.

It’s like the picture I posted tonight. We took way too many, but this one made me laugh, so I posted it. Then I said “what if I just had the caption be #nofilter?” And we laughed some more. And then I saw that one of the locations I could pick was “Fort Meigs: Ohio’s War of 1812 Battlefield.”

So here we all were, rolling around the basement at 11:30, laughing at stupid jokes. And I posted that ugly picture that took us too long to take with the lame caption and slightly incorrect location, not because it’d get a lot of likes on Instagram or because people would think it was funny. 

But because we all thought it was funny. 

I think it’s funny. 

So I’m trying to do more shit like that because life is too short to be worrying about what everybody else is giggling at when you could be making yourself laugh instead. 




Dear Reader,

Today has been a surprisingly productive day. Also, I’ve been having more ideas for YouTube videos lately and have actually had the energy and drive to try and do them, but I’m not sure if that’s just because of boredom and the fact I’m home alone a lot more now that Sarah is back at school.

Anyway, here’s the new video for the week (I know I linked it at the end of the last one but it would’ve bugged me if I didn’t make a separate post for it):

And I think I’m going to try and get another one up for Sarah’s birthday on Saturday (let’s hope I didn’t just jinx myself)

I want this momentum for my channel and blog to keep up through January and, well, the rest of the month.

I have ideas–let’s see if I actually implement them.





Dear Reader,

I got a new phone today and it’s making me feel really great, which only makes me feel shallow. I want to connect with everyone on Snapchat and take a ton of pictures and post them on Instagram and share everything with everyone on Facebook. And it’s weird that these things bring me pleasure–or the thought of them do, at least (I really failed at taking selfies tonight, lemme tell ya).

Sarah and I also made a vlog today and I actually love it. It’s only five minutes long and I don’t think it’ll mean that much to anyone else, but we find it hilarious. Sarah keeps coming into my room and asking to replay the first ten seconds because we’re just so stupid (but we think we’re hysterical.)

And I sent it to a few friends because I thought it might make them smile or laugh because they actually know us, and it got me thinking about this whole YouTube thing. My favorite videos to make are with Sarah, but I think the people that would enjoy watching them the most don’t even know that we do this sometimes.

And I find myself trying to censor myself on there and on here and just in different ways everywhere I go. And something I just think FUCK it. Maybe one of these days I’ll just post my blog url in the bio of my twitter or casually share a video of mine on Facebook. Because so what if I say a few cuss words? So what if sometimes I want to talk about mental health? So what if I feel like starting a blog or a YouTube channel or, who knows, maybe Vine will be next!

We’re all going to die one day and we have until then to do everything we wanted to do and say everything we wanted to say and go everywhere we wanted to go and love as much as we can and try everything under the sun.

So what if I say “fuck” on a personal blog when I’m 19? Will that really affect my ability to teach high schoolers after I graduate? Will it keep me from being seen as a role model to those who are younger than me? Will it, in any way, turn my heart black and prevent me from spreading any kindness or love?

I don’t know. Maybe to someone out there it will. And maybe I’ll never tell my parents that this thing even exists.

This really wasn’t what I had intended to write about tonight, but I guess it just kind of got away from me.




PS. Here’s a preview of the video I’ll be uploading this week.

Screen Shot 2016-01-04 at 3.20.11 PM

PPS. It’s up now. 


Sometimes I wonder,

when I’m sprawled across your bed

and the sun is just starting to rise,

How would you describe this moment?

If you had to write it down–

If you had to capture it,

What would you say?

What would you notice?

Would you talk about the way the light hits my skin?

Or the separation between my lips,

or the curve of my back?

How would you describe my stare?

Would you call it pensive,

or vacant?

Would you wonder about the thoughts that lay

just behind my eyes?


But then I snap out of it,

look over at you,

and realize what’s happening

and who we are.

I didn’t find you pouring over literature in coffee shops,

I find you in math lectures.

I see you solving calculus problems,

not writing poems in the park when you’re in love

and suddenly everything looks beautiful.

And maybe you don’t even fall in love,

because you choose numbers over words every time.

So I stop thinking of the words you’d assign to me

when I’m staring into your eyes

or playing with my hair.

And I wonder if I’m just another number to you.

and what that number is.