Why is it that when I have assignments due, I would rather do anything else?

I’m sitting here on my bed, waiting for my chicken tenders to cook and effectively procrastinating once more. Rather than working on my paper, I’m here blogging. Not only that, I’m thinking about what to pack for this upcoming weekend’s trip to Pennsylvania, considering whether or not I should clean before I leave (I really shouldn’t, there’s no point), and every so often glancing in the mirror to remind myself that I need to do my make up before class.

Sometimes I wonder if I have A.D.D.

Sometimes I think maybe it’s just an overall laziness.

Who knows? But at the beginning of the semester I was on top of everything. Now I’m beginning to get senioritis… at the end of my sophomore year. No bueno.

Lesson for the Day: The faster you get it done, the sooner you can forget about it.


That awkward moment when you text your best friend you’ve known since 3rd grade that you’ve always kinda sorta had a little thing for and recently had a kinda sorta fling with and it turns out he gave his phone to his baby mama’s little brother who refers to himself as his “soon to be brother in law”.


Yeah, that awkward moment. Cool.

He was my elementary school crush. I moved from PA to NC after 5th grade, in 7th or 8th grade we magically reconnected via the wonderful world of Myspace. By magically, I of course mean that I stalked him down like the creep ass I am. We kept in touch all through high school, he was my go to for guy advice and I was his go to drunk dial. It was a great friendship. Over the years, we always flirted a little. At some point we realized we had both liked each other back in elementary school. It was totes adorbz. Then as our friendship grew, we made plans to meet up when I went to visit my family. We had fun, he made me laugh, we continued to be great friends. Then one day, he told me he got his girlfriend pregnant. Oops, too bad for him, I thought. But we still never lost touch completely.

Once the baby was born, my awkwardness kept me away. I knew his then girlfriend wasn’t a huge fan of me since we had kept in touch for so long, and his drunk texts weren’t exactly innocent, so I was anxious at the thought of meeting her. Also, I always feel a sort of pressure meeting people’s kids. So being the awkward person I am, I avoided the situation for a solid two years. Finally this past October, I made plans to see my long lost pal again. I invited him to come spend a few hours at my grandpa’s cabin. Little did I know what was to come…

My deepest shame is this… I got black out drunk. At my grandpa’s cabin. In my mom’s presence.

Bacardi 151: a one way ticket to the toilet, the hospital, or your deathbed. The majority of people won't even smell it, let alone drink i

Bacardi 151: a one way ticket to the toilet, the hospital, or your deathbed. The majority of people won’t even smell it, let alone drink i

But before all that, I had quality talks with my friend. We never ran out of things to talk about. We drank light beer. Then we found Bacardi 151 and peer pressured my cousin into joining in on the fun. Fast forward a bit, my uncle walks in on my friend and I kissing in the kitchen. Soon after, I’m puking my life out in the bathroom, apparently not letting anyone in. Later, my friend is patting my back telling my mom he’s “got it” as she warily eyes him up. The next morning he takes his time leaving and we make a few jokes about him coming to visit me at school. Did I think this would ever happen? No way in hell.

Surprise surprise, I leave PA and start getting texts about how he misses me, and how he doesn’t feel things, so why does he feel things, and he’s not supposed to like me. I’m taken aback. Next thing I know, we are planning a weekend for him to come visit. The biggest shock, he actually calls off work and actually makes it down to see me. 3 AM when I went to let him in, I was in shock that he had actually driven 7 hours to spend a few days with me. Still, we never ran out of things to talk about. A mixture of serious conversation and hilarious stories, it was perfect. He was so many things I did not expect. He was sweet, he was cuddly, and when he left, he told me he wished he could live in my mountain town, he told me he would miss me, he told me I was different.

A week later I saw him while in PA for Thanksgiving. No talks of emotions and that was fine. That was expected. And yet the texts continued to say otherwise.

Then out of nowhere, he disappeared. It went from texting every day to barely a response once a week. The mother of his child had accused him of coming to see me, and he asked me to lie for him. So I did. Just like that, this whole fantasy world I had built for myself was gone.

Now a few months later, we are back to our old routine. He tells me about the girls he wants to fuck. I pretend not to care. We act like dicks to each other, everything is fine. Then last night I got a SnapChat from him. It was a young boy flicking me off. Weird. So I ask who was that? I get a text back, “Who is this?” Before long I get the reply that it is his “soon to be brother in law”, he gave him his old phone and got a new number. So basically, 9 years of friendship down the drain unless he gets his Facebook back or decides to ask his “soon to be brother in law” for my number.

Lesson for the Day: Don’t trust a ho.

Words to live by.

Words to live by.

Last weekend, I came home to find my family in shambles once again, only this time there was an air of finality. A feeling that this could be the real deal for once in my life. In a sad way, it was almost refreshing. I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster watching my parent’s marriage go up and down since I was seven years old. Thirteen years later, all I want is to get off the ride. Divorce isn’t pretty. Divorce isn’t ideal. Divorce is not what I want for my family. But sometimes I fear it is the only option for my family. How could divorce break us anymore when we are already so broken now? The only thing I know is this, my brother deserves better than the roller coaster I was forced to endure during my years at home. The ups and downs, emotional mood swings, and drama put so much unnecessary stress on a kid.

Saturday was awful. I broke the months of peace between my dad and I, put all my faith in Rae, who thankfully answered my call, and then drove off into the night to clear my head. The next morning, I barely even said goodbye to my dad before I headed back to school. I was over the drama, I still am.

But here’s what he doesn’t see. He thinks I hate him, that I don’t respect him, that I never want to be around him. The truth is I love him dearly. Our relationship was broken years ago, and it will take years to mend. Having a parent who is not only bipolar but is also an alcoholic isn’t easy. They don’t always see how they hurt those around them. How the substances influence them. My heart breaks for him every day. I want him to be happy more than anything, but he won’t allow himself happiness. Any chance he gets, he finds a way to cut it off. I hope someday he finds peace. I hope someday he realizes he deserves love too. And that he finally accepts it.

I don’t know what to do. I want my parents to be happy. I want them to be together. I know that a divorce would kill a little part of both of them. And yet, that seems like the only feasible option at this point. But I guess the truth is, I don’t have to know what to do. It’s not my decision. I just hope that after the weekend my brother and I endured, some serious changes are made in one direction or another. We can’t live in limbo forever.

Lesson for the Day: Learn the Serenity Prayer. Live by it.

I’m reading this book right now and I’m kind of obsessing over it. I really can’t put it down. Anyways, everyone should go read Jonathan Tropper’s The Book of Joe.

ImageAt first, it seems like a sarcastic and witty faux memoir.Then all the sudden, he gets deep on you and next thing you know you’re sitting in your bed at 1 AM bawling your eyes out, wiping your snot covered face on a ratty old tee shirt, and considering the struggles your family has been through. If someone had said this book was gonna make me cry, I would have laughed at them. And yet here I am, still crying after a solid 20 min crying session. I’m still trying to convince myself to pick up the book and read the final pages, but I don’t know if I’m mentally up to it yet.

Lesson for the Day: Crying is good for you. It allows you to get out all sorts of feelings, some you never even knew you had. It’s therapeutic, healing release. Just get some Aleve for that killer headache afterwards.

Since I’ve royally sucked at updating these past few months, I felt it was the least I could do to make a post as a shitty little Christmas present for you few followers I have.

4EverAloneHere’s a miniature update on my life. Everything is the same – I’m still in love with my bulldog, still loving my major, my back is fine as can be, and I’m still tragically single as can be. When I drink, I’ve taken to calling out “Forever Alone” and so now my roommates have taken to showing me every single cat related thing they can find. Yes, I am the cat lady. The cat lady who does not like cats. Not in the least. At least this cat lady is semi-smart. Smart enough to get on the Dean’s List, hollahh!

Anyways, a majority of these past few months have just been me confused. Confused about how the hell I’m gonna pass Philosophy (I did, phew!), how I’m gonna impress my photography professor (I did… once), how I’m gonna find a new boytoy (I did, for like two days, then he left and went back home), who I’m going to live with next year (with four other lovely ladies, woot woot!), and most importantly, how to get my current roommate to BUY SOME FUCKIN COOKIE DOUGH.

The most confusing was probably the boy. Big shock there. I met a really cute guy at a party. We made out. Rare moment for me. He asked me out. Then bam, never ever met up with him. I saw him one other time, a party, and we made out. Same thing happened again. Whatevs. Then my best friend and elementary school crush drives a whopping seven hours to come spend the weekend with me. I’m dreaming up all the fun things we can do, and the first night he’s there he pukes all over my floor. However, excessive cuddling and a hook up later, I’m having actual feelings for the kid?! Things I thought were left behind in early adolescence. For a few weeks after, I get a plethora of texts of the “I miss you”, “I reallyyyy like you”, “I can’t wait to see you again” variety. Then all the sudden, baby mama drama ensues. Yeah, I forgot to mention, this kid has a two year old. (Perhaps posting this is poor judgement on my part, this could really be used against him… I guess I’ll decide later) Basically, baby mama didn’t know he came to visit me and the transactions that listed my random ass mountain town kinda confirmed it, despite what he and I told her. Anddddd, since then I have not received one normal text from him. Dah fuq?! Now I’m in his state and am 99.99999999% sure I will not be seeing him. All because of this bullshit. I’m frustrated to say the least.

On a more positive note, I went to a party with all the kids from my high school last week. Whilst partying away, Rae got a little tired. Per her instructions, I walked her down to her large and in charge green mini van, tucked her in, and returned to the party. This is where the night gets fuzzy. What I thought happened over the span of 45 minutes, Paul claims took over two hours. Anyways, basically I got two free shots and a beer out of socializing with some guys who graduated before me. As I was talking to them, this guy from my graduating class walks up. Now this kid, this kid was the guy all the girls had a crush on at some point. He was in every sport, he was ripped, and he was in my AP Gov class so not that dumb. During my sophomore year of high school, he had a mildly creepy obsession with my hair that spread to the rest of the guys in school. But I never thought he really noticed me. Wrong. I ended up making out with him for a bit, then he grabbed my hand and led me around wherever he was going. No, this isn’t like he’s being shady taking me somewhere to shag. This is like he was going next door to get something real quick and took me along. The only shameful part of this for me was the fact that a majority of the people at the party saw, including my ex’s best friend. My ex was there, but apparently didn’t see, just heard after. So basically, go me for making out with a high school crush. Got that checked off my bucket list.

If Jess can be forever alone, so can I.

If Jess can be forever alone, so can I.

But anyways, I can’t think of anything else and I really should be working on my Christmas presents. Shit. Fuck. Damn. I SUCK! Oh well, clearly I can ramble on and on so I’m set.


Lesson for the Day: Be careful who you kiss, you don’t wanna end up with a herpe!

I done fucked up.


Remember that back surgery I had last January? How I herniated two discs, because they were susceptible due to degeneration? Yeah… my back has been hurting lately. I’ve been feeling weird pains in my right calf. I’m getting worried. I haven’t done anything too risky, I just haven’t done anything too cautiously either. I’ve been doing my back exercises lately, but now I’m worrying that it’s too late. I’m worried that it’s starting again. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m posting this right now. But as I sit here googling “exercises to prevent herniated discs”, I’m tearing up. All I can think of is how miserable I was last year and how I cannot return to that way of life.

Lesson for the Day: Never forget your weaknesses. Rather, focus extensive time on making them your strengths. Or else they could come back and bite you in the ass.

Tonight, as I set off to my room to work on a present for Rae’s 20th birthday, it hit me. I really am growing up. In January, I will turn 20. No more being a teenager. While you’re technically an adult at 18, I don’t think it fully sinks in until you’re out of your teen years. Now you’re in your 20’s, that’s adult shit right there.

This week is my fall break. Before I get into the meat of this post, I need to give you some background information about me. I get really attached to things, anything. The cars our family has owned over the years, various houses, animals, people, and even my dorm room last year. The house my parents live in now is the only house besides Valleybrook in Pennsylvania that we have lived in for a significant amount of time. I was so attached to Valleybrook. That neighborhood, my friends, my backyard, and most especially, my room. We moved around a lot after that until we finally settled in this house. When we first moved in, I had a different bedroom. Then as a special surprise, my parents gave me the bonus room from 8th grade onward to enjoy my high school years in.

Over the span of my high school career, I spent so much time decorating the walls of my room. I truly made it my own. Quirky cartoons drawn by friends, posters from the high school plays, photographs of bands, and even collages and artwork done by myself began to fill most of the wall space in this room. And over that time, so many memories were made in this room. I look around and I think of dance parties with friends, my almost first kiss, heartbreak, heart to hearts, looking out the window waiting to sneak out, thinking I was such a bad ass for sneaking some vodka, hiding away after a big fight, etc. etc. the list goes on. I think about the friendships and relationships that have come and gone, the few that have remained, and what I miss. I’m so happy with my new life at school, but when I come home all the old feelings rush back. Sometimes it just hits me and I’m that 17 year old girl again. And I can’t begin to explain how weird it is to me that 17 is now 2 years in the past.

Now I sit here in my bed, typing up this melodramatic post, looking around my room. The pictures and drawings are still there, but besides that it’s mostly empty. No more desk, no more dresser. They’ve been moved elsewhere, there is no urgency to buy replacements. Just piles of shit laid where they used to be. Random items have been pulled out of the storage units and are sprawled out sporadically across the room. And sitting here, it hit me. My little apartment at school feels more like home to me now than my actual home does. I don’t want my new friends from school to come and see what an empty mess this is. It’s so sad looking to me, I can’t imagine that they wouldn’t feel some sense of that. I look at the emptiness and all I see is memories and what will never be again. I’m growing up. When I graduate college, I won’t be moving back home. My years of this house being my primary home are over. I always knew that going to college, but the reality of it never hit me until today. That is because last year, I wouldn’t call a dorm my home. But now, I live in a cozy apartment. My room has lots of empty wall space, but that is an easy fix. It’s entirely my space; it’s homey, and I love it. I think the thing I like most about my apartment is that it’s fresh, it’s new. While I love all the memories I have in my bedroom here, I have too many of them. Too many of them involve old boyfriends. At school, I have barely anything to remind me of them. I like my fresh start.

Anyways, I think I’m going to stop moping around about this. Sometimes I hate being a girl. The ridiculous mood swings I experience drive me nuts. An hour ago I thought I was having a mental breakdown, all over a room. Or at least, that’s how it started. Then it snowballed into a cry fest about anything and everything that has ever happened in my life. Again, being a girl can suck.

Lesson for the Day: Enjoy every little moment. If you’re sad, give in to it. Let yourself be sad. But only for a few moments. Then pull up your bootstraps and move on.