Dealing With Life By Dumping Inches

Every girl has that moment when her life is:

a) Falling apart
b) Way too stressfull
c) Getting out of hand
d) Just ridiculously ridiculous
and you get to that point where randomly during the middle of a conversation about homework with a friend you randomly blurt out, “I’M CUTTING MY HAIR. All of it. Forever.”

Whether you decide to actually do it or not is dependent on the day, how stressed/upset/tired/angry/hungry you are, but for other adult-ish ladies at that mental point in their lives trying to figure out if a stress snip is worth it, I present to you a list of pros for each side of the debate that I made before deciding I needed to get rid of a couple of inches…instead of figuring out my life. And I can tell you, personally, I feel so much less weight on my shoulders. And I mean the things I was worried about are kind of still around, but, at least I look fabulous worrying about them.

Long hair:
•  Cute, messy buns on top of your head
•  Side ponytails (80s style)
•  Hair flipping (especially nervous hair flipping)
•  Looking sexy on top during sexytime (see above)
•  More likely to be an American Apparel model

Short hair:
•  Look cute constantly
•  Itty bitty buns
•  More room for neck kisses
•  Shorter hairs sticking on the shower walls
•  Not looking like 325 other girls on your college campus with wannabe American Apparel hairdos



Being Alone


As much as colleges seem to tell its students how individual they are, how important their personalities and qualities are, it also gives the impression that should you choose to keep your individual to yourself, you’re just being selfish.

“Join this club!”

“This club needs you!”

“Be a member of this club or else you’re lame and have no purpose and no one will hire you for a job ever.”

How contradictory.

I like being alone. A lot. Not that I want to be alone forever – I’ve experienced days upon days (upon weeks) of alone-ness and if not carefully executed/monitored, alone-ness can turn into loneliness, and that’s a detrimental island.
But, back home I’d beg my mother to let me run an errand for her just so I could drive to the store by myself sometimes. Even a drive to Costco and back was enough to make me happy. And living on my own in Phoenix has shown me the comfort in being alone as well: walking here and there, running errands, shopping alone, people-watching alone. It calms me.

To be alone: “having no one else present; on one’s own”. That’s important, I’ve come to realize. It’s vital, even.

My freshman year of college I had a roommate mix-up at the start of the year and for the first half of the semester I had no roommate. My new friends asked, “Don’t you get lonely?” or “Don’t you want someone to talk to?” But the answers were always no. I had them, after all. I hung out with them, ate with them, laughed with them. But when I went back to my room, it was like my sanctuary. And I can’t wait for that sanctuary to come again. To walk into a place that was waiting for you to come back, just you. Maybe pat a dog’s head on the way in, cook myself dinner, pour myself a glass of wine and just be.

We’re surrounded by people every day – people we know, people we don’t. We fake smile at tens of people every day, tell people, “I’m great! How are you?” on our crappiest of days. We clothespin smiles to our faces every day. Then go out into the world and throw our energies at people, constantly, as we listen to them, or talk to them, work with them, smile at them. We wade through people all day. But when you can be alone, you can finally take those clothespins off your cheeks. You can smile for real, or frown if you want to. You can sigh, you can cry, you can scream. You can breathe. It’s just you and yourself. You’re the focus when you’re alone. No more pandering to others or putting on a front. It’s about you.

Being alone is necessary. And it’s okay to be alone or to want to be. Sometimes I’d feel weird about liking the idea of being by myself because college bombards you with pictures of friends hanging out, walking in pairs. Everyone (or what seems like everyone) is going to parties and if they aren’t, they’re always doing something, being movers and shakers. And all that is fun and and should be taken advantage of and it has its place. But so does being with yourself. It’s then that you listen to what’s in your own head. Too much time around others can drown out who you are. It’s in the silence that you acquaint yourself with yourself.

My favorite thing about parties (next to a few other things…) was being a tad bit intoxicated, but putting my key in my apartment door, locking it behind me, then walking to my room, closing the door, and laying on my bed, looking up at the ceiling. There, while the remnants of my time with others fades, the memories will play in my head, but I don’t have to talk about them; there’s no more buzzing in my ears. I could just close my eyes and be, feel the moment, feel the sheets, feel myself with no one else present, but me.

FMFGR (For My Future Grown-Up Reference): A Decorating Post

As cute as my graduation cap hanging off a nail on my wall may be, I realize that I won’t be a college kid forever and should probably pick up some decorating tips for when I’m living in my own place like a grown-up. I love the modern look of this kitchen (which happens to be found in a house built in the 70s), the pop of color, and (obviously) the kitschy dish towel.

I thought I’d bookmark Stacie Bloomfield’s house on my blog to give me a few inspiration ideas for the big move (in like 85 years). Look out for other decor inspiration posts I’ll put up in the future and check out the rest of Stacie’s home pics in the link at the end of the post. If you love chalkboard walls and color, you’ll dig this house!

To the Brothers of Tau Kappa Epsilon

Sigh. You want to tell yourself that we’re making progress, that things are getting better. But sometimes, you have to be honest, and take an honest look at the world.

This is a letter written by an amazingly talented, wise, and intelligent man that I’m proud to say that I know personally. Take the read. It’s worth it.


To the Brothers of Tau Kappa Epsilon,

My name is Ja’han Jones and I serve as the President of the African American Men of Arizona State University. Admittedly, I write this letter with regret, for surely, a man hopes to come in contact with another man only for purposes of solidarity, unity, and love. Having been made aware, however, of your most recent egregious act of denigration toward the African American community, I find myself in your mailbox—on your computer screen, perhaps—for purposes much less fortunate. I write, now, with no intent to reprimand, or defame, or scold, but to ask with the utmost sincerity: Why?

On the campus of Arizona State University exists an abundance of student-led organizations, each—with every act—etching its own legacy into the very concrete upon which we walk. The legacy of the African American Men of Arizona State University is one from which my constituents…

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Sweet Sixteen?

I spent my sixteenth birthday waiting for my sister to drive from New York to New Jersey so that we could go to Applebee’s for my birthday. When my family (the mother, the father, the sister, her husband, and her two lovely children) got to the restaurant and ate, I hoped for a cake but got a dessert shooter – a shot glass with 1/4 cheesecake and 3/4 whipped cream with a cherry on top. Not even a candle.

I got a card with a singing hamster on it, so that was an upside.

I’ve expected a lot less after that.

inspired by this prompt