So, I got a job

Yes, it happened.

I, a college graduate (with a creative writing degree) got a job that actually utilizes my degree. So yeah, I'm kind of a unicorn. I get to work with fashion, designers and editors. I get to be creative in my writing and I feel like I know what I'm doing.

In this job I've been writing a book on the side and working with a designer to make the cover. I have loved that experience so much that I've begun asking fellow writers and friends if they want to publish anything. So far I have a friend who wants me to put together her poems into a book. I can't wait! So the dream job has now become clear: books and publishing. And editing them. You know what, pretty much the whole process of getting a book from someone's head to your hands.

Shameless plug, if you have a novel idea or one in progress or hell, one done, I can help you get it printed. Basically I can design the interior (trust me, cover art is NOT a talent I possess) and put the novel together and off to the printer for you. And of course help with the writing of it, should you want that. But anyway. Dreams over. You may not read this blog just to know about some random girl's life. You probably come here for the other stuff. (jk, I'm just pretending to have a big audience because it helps me sleep at night.)

More posts coming soon, because I'm trying to be adultier. In my own way, thought.

3 unavoidable things that happen in Arkansas summers

It's Arkansas. It's summer.

That combination usually doesn't mean anything even close to comfortable, and this year isn't an exception. The crazy heat didn't start until later this summer, so that was nice, but now it's hitting with all its force. And if you've never experienced a southern, humid summer, come on down and suffer with us!

I honestly don't know how people survived before air conditioning. I really don't. Every time you open a door to the outside world the heat just meets you all at once, from your head to your ankles. Immediately the sun starts to melt you, and it really feels that way because within minutes your face is dripping and you can feel the delicate epidermis start to crisp up. It's like subjecting yourself to the open oven but not using common sense and backing off. I've lived in Arkansas my entire life, and there a few things that happen every summer in Arkansas that are just unavoidable.

1. Yard work=impossible

Unless you do it superearly or superlate. Even if you do that it's still hot and uncomfortable. Yesterday, I had to move about 800+ pounds of mulch and rocks from the front yard to the back so the lawn could be mowed. I was told this around 1:00, and it needed to be done by 3:00. With the cruddy, rocky wheelbarrow I could haul maybe two loads of rocks or a load or two of mulch before I felt close to collapsing and had to rush inside to press my burning body onto the cold tile. Seriously, I was working in like, four minute spurts. There was a heat warning yesterday, but it had to be done. I finished it, but it literally took almost two hours because I had to take constant long breaks to keep from overheating.

That's not water. 

Then the guy that mows our lawn didn't show up until 8:00 p.m. I felt pretty stupid then.

2. Clothing is scarce

I don't mean it's hard to find. There's just very little of it because you'd die wearing something modest. Or at least want to die. Forget those long pants and cute jackets and stylish light scarves and say hello to bathing suits, ponytail holders, shorts, and crop tops. I work in an office setting right now, which means shorts aren't really on the menu. But I don't have to spend more than two minutes outside at a time while wearing it. If someone does venture outside (or God forbid spend the whole day outside), it's the time for crazy short shorts. And usually you'd feel self-conscious, but it's so hot you really do not care how bad your stretch marks look. Or is that just me?

See? People stop caring because it's too damn hot.

When I have to go somewhere I pick what's cool, not what looks good. If I cared how I looked in the summer I would pass out after a few minutes in the sunlight. So whip out the short shorts and tank tops and bathing suits. It's too hot for modesty. 

3. Leaving anyone or anything in car pretty much ruins it

So the other day I was with my dad in his car, and we needed to fill up the tank. In the backseat, my two year old brother sat, adorable as could be. That sweet, sweet AC is cranked and we pull into the gas station, and the car turns off. Now it's about six o'clock at night right about now. Dad get outs and fills up the car, leaving me and the brother trapped inside the preheating oven that is a black-interior car.

Immediately the heat is back, no longer kept at bay by the cool air of the fans. And it's back with a vengeance. I'm pretty sure we baked in that car for those six minutes. Sweat was dripping down my cheeks. My cheeks. I felt like a was half liquid when the car finally started again and the AC came back on, fighting off the heat.

I used to have this old classic black iPod with 30GB. I had tons of music on it and one day I made a mistake. I left it in my car. For a day. The next day I get back in the car and there are cracks on the iPod, like the sun dried it out and made it shrink back in pain. It wouldn't turn on and it just died of heat stroke. I've also got some nice water bottles warped by the heat that are now unusable since they were left in the oven that is my car. So while you get out the kids, grab your valuables. They won't be if you leave them in a car that stays outside. Trust me. :( 

Stay cool. Don't go outside, ever. That's my advice for making it comfortably through an Arkansas summer. 

A new Series!

In case you aren't informed, I will help you. Netflix is going to be turning Lemony Snicket's "A Series of Unfortunate Events" into a show.

Take a deep breath. This is real.

Just yesterday, a video was posted on YouTube by user Eleanora Poe claiming to be the teaser trailer for the upcoming series. Watch it below and feel your nerves fire up in anticipation.

FYI, the song is Dresdon Dolls' "Missed Me."

This is obviously a well made and expensive trailer. But get this - Netflix denies any involvement with it. Apparently, this trailer is fan made.

I believe that about as much as I believe my body is made from Play-Doh.

If you know anything about the book series, it's that Daniel Handler (aka Lemony Snicket) is a sneaky man who likes to make his characters real as possible. Daniel didn't write the books, Lemony did. So what I believe is that Netflix is denying this trailer in a rather brilliant marketing stunt. And damn if it isn't working. I've seen this trailer more than fifteen times by now.

Your move, Netflix.

Things are happening, folks

I have quite a bit of news for you, readers. I shall put it into bullet points for the curious and small-attention spanned readers.

• I am an intern at a local publishing group.
• I absolutely love it here.
• I wrote a full novel and have printed it.
• Like, in book form. 
• I'm saving up and taking donations in order to pay for an artist to do the cover art for me.

And here's the more detailed version!

I started interning May 26th. I was given my own desk, computer and phone and my own special email address. I work for Soirée, a Little Rock magazine, and assist in whatever needs assisting. So far, that's cataloging older issues, editing and writing profiles to be used in the magazine, working with the social media and updating the website. And more little things. It's been great! The downside... well, this isn't a paid internship, like all of the other internships here. Which is perfectly fine, I love working here and getting experience! It's just that I can't do it forever. Lately I've been more vocal about employment here. Not pushy, though. Just enough, I hope, to land a dream job.

This year I've written a young adult novel and lately finished it. I just need to do a bit of editing here and there. But it's done, and that's what's important. I used the brilliant site Blurb.com to format and create the book and have it professionally printed, so now I have a copy of my book! It's pretty exciting, tbh. 

The printed book. I designed this cover and you're right, it is terrible.

I am not a designer. That's just not a skill I am advanced in. And in the world of book publishing, especially young adult, the cover is ridiculously important. Luckily, I have found an amazing designer, Kerry Ellis, via 99designs.com. She has my exact aesthetic in mind. I just need to be able to pay her. It'll only be $400! For the full rights to a beautiful cover! And with a professional cover comes the selling. As a self-published author (so far) I can print it in my own time, on my time, but also on my dollar. I'm hoping to get it circulating to some capacity on social media, and I definitely have interest from friends and family. I just need to broaden the audience. 

After the new edition is printed up I am going to be taking it to the local libraries and donating copies for checkout. I'll check all stores that sell books and try to get them to carry my book. It's definitely an exciting time, even if I'm just waiting for the funds to get it done. 

Among other things, this is my life right now. Career and dream focused! I'll keep you posted. 

Be part of the magic!

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It's Almost All Over

College is, I mean. Not life or anything drastic. College. That thing I started going to about four years ago and have been struggling and succeeding and everything in between. I graduate with a BA in creative writing May 2nd. Crazy, right? Yeah, I know. But it's happening, and I'm getting there. Oh, and did you know I wrote a book? Well, it's a book, and I wrote it, but it's not a novel. Yet.

I have to make a portfolio to graduate, with some stuff from my school year in it. Writings and samples, you know. So I decided, using Blurb, to make it into a book. So I did! I made it a book! I wrote every word and designed the cover and did that contents and everything except print it. It's coming in the mail in a week!

Right Dream, Wrong Time

Have you ever wanted something really, really bad? And have you ever gotten that thing and then had to say no because it's the wrong time? I waited my whole life for this thing. When I saw it was within my reach, I was very conflicted. It was what I always wanted, something I knew would make me happy. But it was the wrong time, the complete wrong time for it. I had to deal with the euphoria of having it so close, but I had to push it away.

It's a tough feeling. Sometimes I go back to the moment when I had it, just to remember what it feels like to have a lifelong dream realized. I remind myself often and tell myself it will happen some other day, when I'm ready. Because no way am I ready for this opportunity now. I couldn't take it. I'm still conflicted about it. I regret some days, but I know it was the right choice. It's a good thing in theory, but giving that dream up for now was the best decision for me.

When I had that dream right in my hand, I felt like I was starting my life. Every second I felt conflict, though, because keeping that dream alive would not be good for me right now. And now that I gave that dream a rain check, I find I am even more impatient to start life and have that dream for real this time. I have dreams pretty often about it. I'm happy in those dreams. I feel like I was given a chance to taste it until it actually happens.

A review of Blurb.com (so far)

After a quick search for book printing, I came across the lovely blurb.com. The prices were great and the pages were easily navigable. I learned that printing a book (that I design) would be maybe $4.00. That price is variable, depending on type of paper, print, size of book, whether it has a dust jacket or is a softcover, and lots of other personalized things. Additional pages are $.01 each. So I can easily print a book of, like, 200 pages for less than $5.

Blurb also offers free programs that you can download and use. The programs that I downloaded, BookWright and BookSmart, installed quickly and easily and uploading my Word documents was simple. There are very simplistic tutorials online that I took advantage of.

One thing I love about this site is that I can customize everything about it. I can add an author bio and a photo if I want. I can add thirty blank pages. I can write a title page, an acknowledgement page, literally anything I want to add, I can. They even offer services to turn your book into an ebook, and you can choose to hire one of their editor/formatters to tweak your work.

I'm a pretty impatient person, and getting a book even looked at by a publisher is a huge feat. With Blurb, I can print as many of my own books, designed exactly how I want, whenever I want. I'm crazy excited to work on something. And I know I'll have total power over how it looks.

I will say that it is a little confusing and difficult to get the book from your program to the site where it can be printed for you. I'm still learning how to use all of the tools given by the programs, but so far, I am loving it.

http://www.blurb.com

The evolution of popularity

According to the TV and movies you've seen since you could retain memories, popularity usually has to do with beauty and confidence. That's what I always thought that popularity would be when I went to school. Not so much elementary school, but middle and high school, I expected that cliquish popularity to take over.

I started going to school during a transition period. Ideals were changing. Beauty was no longer a requirement to being popular. And the idea of what 'popular' even meant was changing. Early 2000s and late 1990s, it meant those mean girls who dressed beautifully and went to parties. It meant you had confidence and knew everyone and classified everyone. It started to change when that whole 'be yourself' movement began to take charge.

When that happened, kids began to take less notice of those people that knew everyone. They were slowly taken down from their pedestal. Eventually, everyone was on the same ground. I didn't witness bullying and/or teasing in middle school or high school. It just didn't happen. People made friends and talked to one another and there was no hierarchy. People just were, and they weren't afraid to be judged for liking something obscure. In fact, the more obscure something was, the more people were interested in it.

People still liked mainstream music and culture and entertainment, but the Internet was allowing everyone everywhere to branch out and discover those little bands in Minnesota with seventy likes on Facebook.The Internet was instrumental to people changing how popularity in school was seen. You could discover anything there. Even the things you were sure no one else knew was a 'thing' had fandoms all over the Internet. We started to receive acceptance online and not just in a school setting, and suddenly, the opinions of people you went to school with held little to nothing when you had the entire world at your fingers.

But still, on television and in movies, popularity was always shown as the popular beautiful people with complete power over all other students. Everyone was classified, as if they could have no more than one hobby. I mean that was slowly changing, but it was still treated like a rarity when a drama geek was also a 'popular' kid. It's entertaining to watch, but it's not so real anymore.

I know that bullying is still a problem, and cyberbullying is no small dilemma. I just never witnessed the bullying or meanness to others. And if I did, people didn't take it. Since people didn't hold hierarchies, peers weren't afraid to speak up when something unfair was happening.

There will always be a problem with bullying because people are raised differently and are abused and some are just confused. But things have really changed. I, for one, am glad that my sister goes to a school now where everyone is free to be themselves without fear of judgement.

It's Coming Up

As you (most likely don't) know, I am to graduate in May. As I keep telling people, that's if I pass my classes. Not that I'm in danger of that. I just like to keep a hint of caution. I will have a creative writing degree. It's, like, my dream degree. I didn't even realize how perfect it was until I had been in it for a while. But it all adds up.

• At night, I was the best bedtime story teller. 
• I ate up books; children's and young adult. Still primarily read those.
• I actually wrote a few 'books,' including a book that I bound in cardboard about a unicorn who went on a journey to find other unicorns. She meets a giant spider in the forest. (I had no idea about that movie, The Last Unicorn)
• I also wrote a little four page poetry book. I wrote on the front who illustrated it (me) and who wrote it (me). It was a thrill to see my name on a cover.
• My senior year of high school I got to take a lot of elective courses. From a catalog, I selected creative writing, and it was the #1 class for me. I spent hours on my portfolio, literally binding ten little books with a work each in them to all fit into one of those decorative books that open.
• In English classes, my essays always had a sense of self. I loved writing days.
• I worked in the library for a class period my junior year. Dear god, the smell of new YA books as they roll in and the satisfying crack as they are opened for the first time... 
• I would get more passionate about the creative essays than the research papers.
• I stay up on all the young adult book trends and authors and titles and such. Always have.

So you see, it was something in front of me all along, but I never really put it together. I wasn't even aware such a degree existed. I heard someone say it in passing and I just reached out and grabbed it. My major used to be vocal performance, because it was something I loved doing, but I didn't enjoy the technical side of it. I minored in it instead and took on the writing degree!

Over the years I have written dozens - if not hundreds - of stories and poems. I have written scripts and written critiques for my peers and worked on my own little novels. I edited other people's work and helped them out with plot and characters. That rush from seeing my name on the cover of something? Still totally there. Now I convert my Word documents into epubs so I can read them on my ereader. Flipping through and seeing my book, even if only I see it, is exhilarating. 

So after graduation, I don't know where I'll go. But I'll always have writing. And I will always know that I majored in something I really love. 

Yep, I go to school with my grandpa

As my grandfather, heretofore referred to as 'Gramps,' will tell anyone, he started taking courses five years ago after watching a special on television. This special said that older people should turn off their televisions and go back to school, because if you're super old, you can go for free. So Gramps got off the couch and asked his school, Hendrix, about it. They weren't interested. However, UCA was. So he signed up for courses, to audit them.

I started attending UCA the next year. Gramps takes classes every semester; he's taking two courses this time, and they always fall at the same time. Lunchtime, afterward, so he can pig out in the cafeteria. He likes taking the history courses. He excels in them, even sometimes adding information the professor didn't know. He spends hours a day in the library reading and researching about what he's learning in class. Being unable to even turn on a computer, he reads books, and a lot of them.

Gramps lives across the street from the campus, so he walks here every day. He goes to the cafeteria and reads newspapers as he eats, then goes to class, then researches. When I can, I join him in the cafeteria, and tell all my friends about him to say hi. He's quite an open book. Friendly and talks to everyone. His peers in class call him 'Jim' and when they call him 'sir', he tells them if they're to call him sir, that they should instead refer to him as 'Your Excellency." And they call him that.

When the professor assigns partners, they all fight to be with him. He knows his stuff, and he's funny. Pretty absurd, too. I sat in on a class that he was in once for a non-fiction assignment, and he was so proud to introduce his granddaughter to the class. He brags to everyone that he attends university with me. The cafeteria ladies all know him. Students say hi to him on the sidewalk.

I'm so amazed at him, at his commitment to school. He never misses a day, not ever. I mean, who all can say they're going to the same college their gramps is going to?  I do what he does and we brag on each other often. As my last semester here, I'm trying to take every second in and enjoy it, knowing this is something to tell my kids and their kids one day. And who knows? Maybe I'll even go to school with my grandkids.

What I'm Doing

The first thing I remember writing is a poem book for my parents. It was probably for Valentine's Day, since it was done in all red construction paper and every poem was about hearts and love. I felt like the coolest person ever holding my own bound (stapled) work and showing my whole family.

After a while, I decided to write about a unicorn, because I really effing love unicorns and fairies and mermaids. This unicorn was all alone and could find no other unicorns, so she went on a journey. On her way, she met a nice but giant talking spider. I didn't get far in it, but I loved writing it. I hand wrote it on printer paper, having taped the blank pages into a crude cardboard hardcover with my own drawing of a unicorn on it. I always sort of wanted to write, and I always did (and man, could I tell a bedtime story!) want to publish something, but it didn't hit me to do it as a job until my senior year of high school.

I've been inspired to help non-writers see their ideas in print. Some people have awesome ideas but have no clue how to write or start, or just don't want to write it, but still think it's a great idea and someone should use it. I don't know how, but I want to help those people. Give me your worn out, your old, your fantastical ideas. I'll write them for you. 

I have probably hundreds or story starts. I have so many ideas; I keep track of them in my phone under notes and constantly come up with new ideas, usually when I'm trying to sleep. I actually like it when my friends tell me that they've always wanted to write a book about [insert book idea here], and they give me the idea. It's like prompts, or very loose outlines.

As a senior creative writing major, I've started to send out my resume and samples of work to places in hopes of obtaining an internship. I've upped my social media game, come back to blogging, and am starting to realize I can make my own path and create my own life.

I've been a fan of Cracked articles for years now and have always dreamed of being published on the site. Some of my posts are in the format of Cracked's stuff, but I've been to afraid to send it in. I think I will now. This is the start of my career. And I know it will be a career, because I love doing it. Sure, I'll have a day job, but this - no matter how it turns out - will always be my passion.

We should all get together and love Civil War era music

I'm writing this because since I can remember, there are times (sometimes months apart, maybe years) that I get a few songs stuck in my head. These are songs that when I sing them, no one knows what I'm singing. Probably because they were written and popular before your great grandmother lived.

You're right! Well, probably not, unless you said I'm thinking of Civil War era music. We remember that time as black and white photos with unsmiling people, fighting, slaves, pain, death, disease. I suppose it's hard to believe that they were actually people like us. We just don't really think of them like that because they didn't take pictures of smiling and everything seemed too stuffy. But these people liked music, and they cranked some pretty neat tunes that really gives us an insight as to what they were like. You probably know "Camptown Races" and "Oh! Susanna", but what about...

Note: Try to find versions of these songs done like they were written, not all popped up and redone by big stars. Though I appreciate them trying. I recommend The 97th Regimental String Band's records.

1. "Blue Tail Fly"

First of all, shut up about the rap songs that have sampled this beautiful song.

You know about Jimmy Crack Corn. And if not, get ready to learn. It's a popular children's piece, but I bet you don't know much about it. It was first published in 1846, and listening to the lyrics, you learn that it's in the point of view of a slave. Basically, the story is about the slave discussing the blue tail fly, this horrible giant fly that would suck on horses, making them throw off their 'massas'. The slave is sort of mourning the 'massa's' death.

the killer

There's a lot of disagreement about what the Jimmy Crack Corn part means. Alcohol makin', gossiping, yada yada. I don't know either. But it's a fun song and actually preserves a pretty important aspect of our history. And it's really awesome because it's not racist. I think.

2. "If You've Only Got A Mustache"

If you're one of the 70 people that saw A Million Ways to Die in the West, and stayed until the big musical number, you heard a version of this song. I am one of those people. But I heard this song long before the movie was even thought of. I grew up listening to it in my grandmother's car, so when I heard it, I thought it was weird that no one else in the theater (all six of them) knew what I was singing. I sang anyway because YOLO.

Written by the father of American music Stephen Foster in 1864, this song is about mustaches. Obvi. And this is over a century before mustaches adorned everything that could be made. Seriously, why were those fuzzy caterpillars so popular they needed to adorn pillows and bed sets and candles and earrings and cars? Yes, I saw a car with a giant mustache one day. Still have the photo.

The song is for those "poor single men" who want to "capture the hearts of the fair." Foster tells them not to despair if they've got a mustache! Just grow a mustache and you'll marry and procreate like bunnies. You may have everything, but life is just empty without a mustache. This is a fun, catchy song and will make you laugh. Share it with your kids. Then you'll all know and love the mustache song.

it still plagues me

3. "Hard Times Come Again No More"

One of Stephen Foster's better known pieces, I still find that no one at school knows it. Published in 1854, it's all about "pausing in life's pleasures" and thinking about how you got those pleasures. Through someone else's hard work. So Foster is asking for there to be no more hard times. A woman with a worn heart has gone through some shit and you're all happy, just stop and think about the hard times people have gone through. It's a beautiful song and quite catchy, and when you pause and think about what's gotten stuck in your head, you'll really see where Foster was coming from.


4. "Old Dog Tray"

Who doesn't love dogs? (That wasn't an actual question. Keep your dog hating to yourself.) Again a Stephen Foster song, this is about a man who has a dog, and that dog is very loyal. Dogs may get annoyed with you, like when you wash them or clip their nails or remove their testicles, but they always forgive you and love on you again. Pretty sure if you removed your human friend's testicles he'd be a bit more testy.

Old dog Tray's ever faithful
Grief cannot drive him away
He's simple, he is kind
I'll never never find 
A better friend than old dog Tray

I mean, it's so sweet. And it makes me happy to have my dogs, even if they are ungrateful sometimes. And all of these songs are child friendly!

Okay, so there may be some debate over "Blue Tail Fly" but that's just because a slave's master dies because of a ruthless insect with only one goal: to kill.

Landmines and Dates

     So on my school's campus today, there are multiple old men in suits handing out little New Testaments. They're pretty adamant about handing them out, stopping any person who walks by and making sure they have one. I have been stopped three times now and it's not even noon. I discarded one copy for someone else to find and currently have another because I don't have the heart to tell those old people 'no thanks'. I told one guy I already had one and he said does your friend need one? And I said yes though no friend of mine has been complaining about the void in her life only a New Testament would fill.
     Aside from the old people handing out God literature, I got asked on a date. Yes, I know. Hard to believe. His name is Nathan and he's sweet and loves to write. We're going to see a movie tomorrow. We met at the library through a mutual friend and saw each other again at a reading of poetry and fiction and scripts Monday night. He walked me to my apartment on the way back and we talked about movies and writing and anything. When we got to my apartment, he said we should write sometime. He said yes. I said we could write in my apartment, since I have a big living room and kitchen with a bar. He then said he'd bring a movie we'd been discussing, and that I should bring the movie I'd been talking about. I told him my film was still in theaters and he suggested we go!
     That's a date, right?

How To... Have a One Night Stand

Dating is time consuming. It can also be expensive. Plus, finding someone who wants to spend a few hours with you and watch you eat can be difficult. A perk of dating can be sex. You can text your significant other anytime and just be like, "Hey, I need some peen/lady bits." If you aren't dating and you want sex, it's a little more complicated. Luckily, I've found some success in this, and I have a couple of great tips to make your one night stand awesome.

1. Know where to go

It’s pretty difficult to go to a coffee shop, scope some hottie out, and somehow entice them into getting in bed with you. There are so many variables; what if they don’t want sex? What if they’re gay or in a relationship? What if they’re totally prudish? We live in an era of technology. Use it. Love it.

My first few trysts were results of an anonymous site, and though that was fine and all, it got me more creeper old dick pics than suitable lovers. After that, my little sister (blossoming into the fun that is high school) introduced me to some apps that allow you to rate others based on their appearance. I’ve found two that work well. Hot or Not and Tinder.

The way to get laid

There’s a whole article waiting to be written on how to craft the perfect profile to get the smoking hot guys, but I’ll try to keep it simple. Include flattering photos. Don’t let the pictures with weird backgrounds sneak in. You’ll notice after you’ve started rating guys/girls that if someone is in a bathroom on a toilet, it’s not sexy. Don’t choose those pictures that make you look like a tool. Unless you want tools. In that case I guess it’s fine.

Just go through your accounts and rate guys. Be honest with yourself. Could you see this guy/girl on top of you? Would you be turned on by their smile? Do they look clean? Be picky. There will be hundreds of guys to choose from, and chances are, someone will dig you like you dig them.

2.  Craft messages carefully

So you’ve got a queue of guys/girls who have liked you back, and now you’re able to message them. This is the exciting part. It’s also the hardest part. Sometimes you’ll get a message first, but it’s usually a ‘hey’ or something, pretty lame. If you really want to be successful, you need to pretend like you’re in person. Or at least pretend you’re really confident. Confidence is key.

Read the person’s little profile. Look through the pictures and try to find something you both like, or find something interesting about him or her. For instance. One ridiculously hot guy had a little description that merely said, “you should get to know me.” Use this to your advantage. Message him, “I should get to know you, huh?” You’ve got some coy in there, you’ve started with a question that will get you some answers, and you’ve made the first move.

From then on, find other things you have in common. Find out if you share the same ideas. Be under the radar about it; unless it’s really who you are and he/she is really giving off that vibe, don’t outright say you’re looking for a lay. Let your messages be flirty. Make that person want to know you. Drop hints about what you should do together, i.e., “we should get some falafel sometime” or whatever you both dig. Whatever it is, somehow get to a point where you have to meet in person to do something.

3. Be safe about it

You want to avoid this.

You and Hottie have made some little plans. They’re kind of vague, because making really specific plans just comes off as desperate. Decide if you want this person to know where you live. Would you be freaked out knowing this person knows where you are located? Would you feel more comfortable going to his or her place? A lot of this depends on who can host, but make sure you’re comfortable with it. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, like “is your room clean?” “does it smell bad?” because it’s hard to get it on when the smell of dog shit permeates the room.

Bring your own protection. You don’t know if this person is safe (though hopefully you’ve established your drug/disease free) and no one wants to get pregnant. You should also bring with you a couple of other items. Minty gum is helpful, or some form of mints; an energy or granola bar, because stomach rumbling sucks and asking for food is awkward; cash, because who knows if you’ll want some Coke after it all? Also, if you’re into it, bring along a pair of heels, ladies. They definitely work well. Make sure you have your phone with you and charged.

Also, if his house looks ridiculously sketch, it may be a better idea to text him and say you couldn’t find it. Or tell him you have herpes (I did that once when I wanted to get out of it. Worked perfectly).

4. What to do after

So. You and whomever you’ve decided is worthy of your genitals have done the deed, and now it’s the awkward bit. The clean-up has started, the clothes are being put back on, and mumbles are happening. The best thing to do is gather that confidence again. Remind yourself of what this is; a one night thing. Tell him or her thanks, that you enjoyed it (even if you didn't

Oh,yeah. 

: don’t be a bitch), and grab your belongings. MAKE SURE YOU REMEMBER EVERYTHING. I’m telling you, leaving something over is awful. Then you have a whole set of issues. Just get all the stuff you brought.

Sometimes you’ll be walked to the door. Let them walk you to the door if it was enjoyable and you want it to happen maybe again. Usually, when you’re walked out, you leave with a kiss, sealing that this was a good time. If it was bad or you really want to go, wave and leave. Don’t turn around and look back. Bam. You’ve just banged someone you hand-picked.

Overall, DO NOT think of leaving as the ‘walk of shame’. It’s the STRIDE OF PRIDE.

Funky Dreams

Have you ever had some sort of crisis in your life and then, because your brain can't stop thinking about it for even one minute, you have a dream about it? It happens rarely (to me, anyway) but it happens. Lately, I've been having problems with my boyfriend, whom I'll call Dave. Dave and I are in a long-distance relationship. It gets tough, trust me. Anyway, so I've been wondering how much I want to be with him lately. After not seeing him for a long while, you start to let yourself forget so you don't ache as much. Last night, I had a dream with Dave in it, and it actually helped me out.

Dave had a daughter. A beautiful little girl, maybe six, with long, curly brown hair and a pretty face. I don't think she had a name; I'll just call her Nora. Anyway, in the dream, Dave and I were dating, and Nora and I were close. Dave got me an elaborate necklace, with beads the color of fire and sunsets. It had a big, swirly pendant on it, and he hung to that a piece of jewelry for Nora. Not long after that, he broke up with me. I felt like I was dying inside. Suffocating without him. I then saw Nora talking to Dave, asking why I was gone, and that she missed me. Dave tried to forget me and eventually dated many other women, giving each a necklace of a different color. After many women, Nora looked through her father's jewelry and found the fire necklace I'd been given. Her piece was still attached. She brought it to Dave, and he realized he loved and missed me.

Then we got back together and were happy. I awoke missing Dave dearly, and even longing for the little girl that brought us back together.

Why I Pay $4 for a Cup of Coffee

Before college, I was never really into the whole coffee thing. My dad drank it in the morning as a ritual, but I never got into it. When I got to college, I realized that there was a Starbucks in the library. Of course, I couldn't believe anyone would pay $4 for a coffee, and that's for the smallest size (dubbed 'tall' inexplicably). But something changed in me at college. 

1.     It’s fucking delicious, that’s why

The first time I ever went here to have myself a coffee I had no idea what I was doing. Really. I went up and said “I like sweet things, but I don’t like coffee…” and the poor baristas whipped up a mocha. A mocha, for clueless people, is a hot chocolate with espresso in it. Jesus, it’s delicious. It’s warm and chocolaty and perfect. And those bastards at Starbucks know that once you’ve had a taste you want more and more. So of course every time I passed the little coffee shop I spent FOUR dollars on a little cup of hot chocolate with espresso in it.

It gets better. Christmas rolls around, right? And they have all this seasonal flavored syrup people go gaga for, like peppermint and Christmas tree and sugar cookie and ornament. But there’s also gingerbread. Oh god, the gingerbread flavor. I went to Starbucks and a guy I had a class with was working. He crafted me a drink that Jesus would worship. It was simply hot chocolate with gingerbread. I know, I sound ridiculous. But it was incredible. And from then on I didn’t care that it cost $4 a cup of heaven droplets.

2.    I do not have the time to craft my own deliciousness

In the morning, I’m lucky to get cereal down my throat. I don’t own a coffee machine, and the idea of making hot chocolate with water makes me queasy. I was never in the habit of having coffee before the morning starts and I’m still not. I just like it when I’m studying or want to look sophisticated. First of all I have no clue how to make anything they have. Go ahead and send me all the recipes you want, I can’t make it like they do. I don’t have that fancy steamer that boils milk in mere seconds, nor do I have the whipped cream dispensary that you hold upside down. So I cannot replicate their creations. And furthermore, I will not. That is sacrilege.

3.     What else am I doing with my money?

That sounds bad. I know. As a college student money is tight. I try not to blow money all willy nilly, but sometimes you want a mocha with whipped cream and gingerbread syrup. At my school there are meal plans. I have a student ID card that has the money for meals on it. Preloaded. You can spend that money only on things on campus, food-wise. So I have at least $625 to spend a semester on food, and if I don’t, I lose it. So why the hell not buy coffee when I want to sip something hot?

Why “Glee” is totally magical realism

In case you don’t know (it’s only a cultural phenomenon), “Glee” is a television show. It was created by the guys that did “American Horror Story” and “Nip/Tuck.” It takes place in Ohio in a dinky little school and focuses on a glee club, which I have since learned is another name for a show choir. I used to think it was a club for doing happy things together. Not really.  

1.   Students look older than teachers

Okay, so I know that getting child actors can be tough because you got to work around child labor laws (darn children!) but getting a 30 year old to play a 17 year old junior? Bizarre. And it’s not just one or two. I mean nearly all the students were played by 25 and uppers. Rachel Berry, main singer in the series? She started as a sophomore. She was 23 when they started filming. Not bad, I guess. The guy who played Mike Chang, Harry Shum Jr, was 27 at the beginning of the first season.

The freshman class!

I’m not saying this is a horrible thing (yet). But it’s weird. I know that a goal of the show was to make it as realistic and close to schools now, and that includes students that aren’t 24 and freshmen in high school. I was sexually attracted to Puckerman. I, a 16 year old girl, had a crush on an almost a 30 year old. Not only that, but when I went to high school after seeing this, I was majorly disappointed. Everyone in an actual high school of actual high school ages are puny and pimply and haven’t gone through puberty.

2.    I’m pretty sure it’s magical realism

Okay, I know that sounds crazy. This isn’t like mermaids and fairies and shit. But look at it this way. In the glee club, this one named New Directions (nude erections, let’s be honest),takes students who want to be stars or who feel rejected and gives them confidence and friendship. Well, there’s that first off. In high school. Okay, the magical part is when they sing. I know it’s a TV show. I know they’re trying to make money and sell tons of merchandise. I get that. But when you’re watching and students who have been practicing for a few days suddenly bust into a hugely choreographed Broadway showtune, you kind of get jarred. 

They're singing about getting your first period.

Here they are complaining about being pregnant or drunk or God-knows, and then they sing like perfect auto-tuned angels. There’s no way you are that good. I saw you yesterday, and you were shit. Especially in high school, that doesn’t happen. I’ve worked on plays for months and had them turn out little better than Carrie (the musical).

That has to be magic. Maybe it’s all a big metaphor. Making friends makes you great and confident and talented, but I’m sure that in actuality, Mr. Schuster’s kids are just as bad as they were when they began. So, long story short, club members are either blessed with perfect voices or purposefully horrible voices. I have stopped watching the musical numbers because we are inadequate.

3.   These people are treated horribly

If you’ve seen the show, you know how vindictive and mean the characters can be. Sue Sylvester insults people in very long (albeit funny) and well thought out sentences. I can’t remember the wording, but she told some poor boy that his nipples looked like they could be cream puffs if you dusted some powdered sugar on them. She has also told homeless people not to be homeless. She asked unattractive and fat people to stay home so she wouldn’t have to look at them. 

The worst part, though, is that everyone around her just accepts it. I’m telling you, this is a very corrupt version of our world. Sue gains tons of power. She made the principal a janitor and took his spot. She constantly screws up the glee club (but they always seem perfect, I don’t know why they get stressed) and is generally a meanie. Then there’s the evilness of those bullies.

4.   The bullies are horrible (and the school doesn’t care)

As part of being in a club where you perform in front of people, you are bullied. Mainly by football players (which is odd, because they perform in front of people, too) and the cheerleaders (who also perform!). You probably have or had a strict no bullying policy. You never saw blatant pranks happening in the halls, like dousing someone with a slushie (what’s up with the slushies?) or insulting them loudly. I’m sure it happens, but it would be a rare occasion. And when it did, they got in truble because they did it out in the open. In a hallway. During school hours. In a crowded place.

Maybe they had better things to do than their jobs.

Every time someone has acted out like that in my school they were punished. Conferences, suspension, expulsion, even the po-po. But here, the faculty doesn’t give a flying fuck. They let it happen. They don’t comment on it. I can’t sit there and watch people get publicly humiliated like that. It’s just total bullshit. I pressed a bagel with cream cheese to some guy’s face in elementary school and got in big trouble. And yes that’s a true story. Even at the most lax schools you don’t get away with that blatant bullying.

I know there's a ton more but I am stopping here because I want to. Comment if you agree or have any other ideas about this show. I think I got done with this show the minute there was a whole debacle over about a girl's fat mom.

Stages of Going (back) To The Gym

The Stages of Going (back) To The Gym

                It’s after the new year started. People have that idea in their heads that in order to make the new year awesome they need to work out. Inevitably, those people may start, but many will not make it to February. It’s a popular wish. And going there, it really does make you feel better. So why do people stop? Well…

1.     You can’t do anything longer than five minutes (without sounding like a squeaker toy)

Walk into the gym. You have the sweats that your stomach is sort of falling out of, a shirt you found in the back of your closet with stains from God-knows-what, and you are determined. You’ve got your blinders on and head to an empty treadmill. You’ve been on one before, you know how to work it. You clip it to your shirt and click start. You start speed-walking, feeling great.

                Then, you hear fast, hammering steps. You look to your left, and there’s a guy with earbuds in, running like the Flash without panting like a Labrador. 

Sexy.

Instantly, you feel less confident. Next to this guy, you’re a clueless first-timer. Oh well, ignore him. But then you have to speed up, so you feel a little better. So you run, and you feel great, but then you start breathing so fast the music can’t mask it. If you aren’t careful, someone is going to come by and ask if they need to call 911. So you slow down, but dear God, you’re breathing like a dog with its last breaths. The guy next to you is still sprinting.

2.       People accomplish the impossible.

So you leave the treadmill, try to steady your breaths, and walk with jelly legs to the weight room. It’s five, so the gym is crowded with good looking people with tans. You ignore them. There are so many machines, and they all look like well-made medieval torture machines. You go to one with a rotating chair that works your abs. You don’t want to look clueless, so you read the chart and then discover it’s written in some indecipherable version of English. Well, you got the gist from the pictures, so you go ahead and start. It’s on the lowest setting, thank God, and you start going, feeling like a regular.

You know what happens next? You know what happens next. You turn your head because you’re bored and you see some Adonis on a slanted board that only supports him from the waist down, and then, with sheer willpower (and great abs), bends his body downward in a perfectly straight spinal line and picks up a heavy disk. He then proceeds to lift himself up and lower himself down, like a graceful dolphin doing tricks at SeaWorld. You gape. That isn’t natural. People aren’t supposed to have to do that kind of thing. But there’s some buff guy, showing everyone up in the gym with his impossible feats. And he’s not the only one.

Every person who looks like they have just enough muscle to lift a sandwich starts lifting weights. Not the teeny ones, not even the 20 pounders. They’re carrying around the heaviest weights in the room like they’re waiters. Now your rotating chair doesn’t seem so impressive.

3.       You didn’t think you’d care, but you do care. You care too much.

You may be saying (as you sit at your computer or chair with a smart phone or hologram or whatever) that it’s a gym, and everyone is going there to get in better shape. That’s the core of it all, sure, and you wouldn't think you’d care what other sweaty strangers think of your decade old Duran Duran T-shirt.

Face it. You care, Ralph.

The problem is, there are too many beautiful people you want to bone in the gym, and some horrible part of your brain is making you uncomfortable so you don’t lose any chance you have to get some. You tell yourself that this is a place to better yourself. Your brain (or genitals?) tells you the guy doing crunches looks lonely. You can no longer appear weak to him. So your mind psyches you out and makes you self-conscious, because that’s a real turn-on (good job, brain). But then again, what if you run into…

4.       Your elementary school crush - he is gorgeous and on the rowing machine

You should have known this would happen, really. You went to a gym in the state! Of course you’ll run into that guy you were in love with all throughout your childhood. In your worst sweats (the absolute worst ones, the ones that were totally black but have faded into dark gray, and show your big honkin' pantyline) you see him, using those beautiful, toned arms to lift heavy things above his head. You’re on your own elliptical, trying to go fast enough that people won’t think you’re a pansy but slow enough that you don’t turn into a soaking red mess, and you keep looking at him.

In a dream world, you’d walk past with your butt in nice leggings, walking like it’s no big deal, and you’re listening to music. He would touch your arm, and you’d turn to him with a sweat-free face, and he’d say, “Hi.” But in the gym, he turns and sees you and you wave. You’re like a puppy that was left in the rain, your belly pudge has peeked from its cave, and you're too out of breath to mumble back a reply. For the rest of the day, you imagine being fucked right in that gym by him. And no one can work out when they feel like that.

Through it all, you still went to the gym. The first time is always the worst (if that's not true, totally tell me horror stories!). You got off your ass, and now you can rub in it people's faces when you mention it offhandedly during a conversation. "Yeah, I worked out last night," never fails to impress. 

Good job, dude. Now shut up about it and go to work. 

When You Find Out You're Not Liked

      So I've come to the realization that I may not be the most like-able person. Of course I'd like to be liked, but the truth is, everyone isn't like-able. There have to be those who cause conflict. And unfortunately, I believe I am one of those annoying, high-pitched, crazy, oblivious people that I know you hate, too.
      Don't get me wrong, I'm not all bad. There are just people in the world who are much more universally liked, then those that maybe half dislike like and the other half tolerate and/or find amusing. I believe I became aware of how people don't like me when a boy came to my door asking for my roommate, who just so happens to be one of those universally liked people. The boy is my friend too. I said no, she isn't here, and we just looked at each other. Then I asked why he never came to see me, and he said he didn't know. Then I closed the door, but not before blowing him a raspberry.
     It was then, in the silence after my spit had quieted, that I realized that I would not like myself if I were someone else. And that's the thing. Would you like you? I certainly wouldn't like me. I'm really cranky and honest-maybe too honest. But I also lie. Really, really easily. I mean, they just fall out of my mouth, and I'm apparently very convincing. So to others, I am the pretty but very odd, rude, cranky girl with the sweet roommate people actually visit. Well, that's it for this subject. I think that now maybe you understand some things. And if not, I really don't care.

(see? totally mean.)