South by Southawkward

Hello friends! Long time, no chat – I know. But thanks to Ale for holding down the fort while Pam and I took some time to reflect on how terrible it is being an adult. Yay!

1914555_10204947767608969_1598224248488514624_nEarlier this month, I got to volunteer for South by Southwest (SXSW) in Austin. And boy…do I have some stories to tell. First, let me say that I had an amazing time this year at SX. It’s one of my favorite times of the year in the city because in a place that already is bursting with things to do, during SX it’s all in one place and most likely within walking distance (I’ve also recently discovered I’m anti-driving – who knew). If you live in Austin, there are certain known truths about the city: i35 has terrible traffic, there’s always at least one person shouting at you as you walk down Sixth street, someone’s drunk somewhere – always, you can’t touch the horse cops, etc.. During SXSW, multiply that by 50 and the city that “keeps it weird”, get’s even weirder.

Enter me! (she says in parentheses)*

Ale shared her experience a few weeks ago and painted a beautiful image of how wonderful it was. Welp, this blog has it’s name for a reason. So let’s talk about how strange I am.

Picture it, a group of normal people and… well me are standing around chatting when a SXSW employee walks up to us and asks us how we’re doing.

Boy #1: Great!
Boy #2: Pretty Good.
Girl #1: Good.
Me: HI! YES, GROOD. I mean good. GOOD… why am I yelling? *nervous laughter*

EVERY DAMN TIME. The odd fact is – I’m not even shy! I talk to everyone, and normally I’m not a complete freak about it. Jesus take the wheel – I don’t know what happened.

And it didn’t stop there. Jack Garratt walked right by me on the street and I stood there like a flailing idiot and wouldn’t say anything to him. Here’s why that’s upsetting. Since my early concert days, where I now cringe at the memories of my awkward encounters with band members, and truly a horrific picture of me clutching Alex Gaskarth for dear life (no I will not attach the link), I have devised a foolproof plan on meeting celebrities (but that’s another blog post).

By the third day of this, I resigned myself to the fact it was a lost cause.

As some of you might know, SXSW is divided into four different parts: Edu, Interactive, Film, and Music. On the first day of music, Pam hooked it up and got us a spot in line for Sia tickets.
OH! Before I forget, there’s a ton of free food and booze at SX. That’s important because on my way to the Sia line I stopped by the McDonald’s Lounge (hey fran!) and could not get in for my free egg McMuffin because I didn’t have my ID.

As I was regaling Pam and the people we’d made friends in line with the thrilling tale of how I was trying to bargain my way in, Pam stopped me and told me I needed my ID for my Sia ticket. CUSS!

Just then the line started to move and I took off running like an olympic champion. I was super proud of myself honestly. I felt unstoppable, like a bird set free, so alive (see what I did there)… until I realized I was running in the wrong direction.

Here’s a visual of my stupidity.

Screen Shot 2016-04-09 at 9.50.16 AM

The green is the route I should have taken, red is the way I went going, and purple is the way I came back.

I kept clutching my walkie in front of my face and yelling random important-ish words so I looked less like a maniac and more like an official person with very- running-necessary- responsibilities.

Luckily, it all worked out. I got there in time to collapse on the ground and crawl my way to the front of the line. I’m classy, y’all

Honestly, that wasn’t even the first awkward thing I’d done that day! Our crew chief leader was kind enough to let me carpool with her during the week of sx, and this day I waited until we’d parked and started getting out of the car to realize that I’d left my badge at home. Awesome.

Thank god for ridesharing companies like Lyft because I would have felt awful asking Jamie, to drive me back to my apartment. So I call my Lyft and start the wait. But only… I’m not great at reading maps that don’t flip when I change directions. So I kept crossing the street back and forth trying to make it easy for this guy to pick me up and still ended up on the wrong side of the road! To be fair he went to the wrong place.. Whatever.

James, my Lyft driver, was a producer from LA (who isn’t, amiright? JK),and he was kind enough to take me to and from my apartment. In that time we got to talking about his latest project. “The best new horror film of the recent year.” I immediately told him “Pass. I don’t do horror films.” He then tried to convince me it was more suspenseful to which I responded “Yeah, I don’t believe you.” Then! He threw some star power into it. “It’s got Jesse Bradford,” He said, which I promptly confused with Jesse Metcalfe and said” Oh I love John Tucker Must Die.” Oy.

Anyway, towards the end of the ride, I was still not convinced to see the movie (because I’m afraid of everything), but I promised I’d tell my friends. So everyone go Dead Awake when it comes out later this year!

Now back to that free food. As I mentioned, there’s a lot of it but it’s rarely good for you. I’m not the healthiest eater, but even I don’t eat like this every day. So many energy drinks and coffee and tacos and donuts, so much pizza – Jesus help me. Obviously, this reeked havoc on my poor stomach. This is a horrible nightmare for someone who hates using public restrooms for something other than tinkle town.

After the fourth day of trying to hold it until I got home, I realized I was going to have to sacrifice my pride. Then like a heavenly apparition appeared the handicapped restroom – bless all your sensitive bowel needs souls. Now the only problem after that was finding an alternative bathroom when that one was occupied. Again, my walkie came in handy when I was pretending to look important as I trolled the hallways of the Hilton looking for a private-public bathroom.


On St. Patrick’s day I had one goal. Find Green Beer. I’d like to point out that this is my goal every year and I’ve only been successful once. This was not that year. Instead we went to the McDonald’s Lounge and got some free dranks, accidently stumbled into Alex Newell’s set (Yasssssssss honey), and end up at a biker bar where I broke the cardinal rule of SXSW and spent money on alcohol. I know – was living in the moment and buzzed on several glasses of wine. Whatever.

Fast forward to friday. “All aboard!” Struggle bus just rolled in with a passenger of one, and it kept going down Queasy Stomach LN, onto HWY Headache, narrowly missed the ditch near Stumble Falls, and strait off the cliff in Vomitville.

Now we’ve talked about my hangovers, they’re bad, but not this bad. This was some weird Fireball induced fever dream. Or questionable Fish Tacos.

Let me walk you through it.


Photo by Jamie!!!

7:00 – Wake up in panic thinking I’ve missed my ride
8:30 – Accidentally fall back asleep and actually almost miss my ride.
9-10:30 – struggle bus starts rolling in
11:00 – board the bus with a slice of pizza because people say greasy food helps. STOP TELLING THAT LIE.
12:00- I say “ I want to ride a Horse Pony”… what?
12:15-3ish – wallow in despair
Sometime after that – eat the questionable fish tacos
Until 8ish – wallow, walow, wallow
8ish after- my body performs some kind of force quit and malfunctions on me. Sorry Hilton Bathroom you were so kind to me. I even sorrier to the person who I had to tell that I didn’t make it to the trash can on time.

After that there’s a lot more vomiting. My personal favorite was the second time at the Youtube club when I ran into a full bathroom, apologized to the room at large, vomited into the trash can, and promptly tied up the bag, because like I said I’m classy.

And there you have it. I never fully recovered from that night while the festival was happening and had to take baby bird sips of everything for the next couple of days to make sure it all stayed down. Apart from all of that, SXSW was great!

Until next time – peace!





Hello, It’s me…

FullSizeRenderAugust 5th. That’s the last time I posted something. Holy s(censored: my mom reads these!). It’s a gloomy, chilly, rainy day here in Austin. And the first go at this sounded like something a brooding heartthrob in a YA novel would journal about. A quick excerpt:

I’m sitting here, staring out at the grey skies and trying to think of what to write – what to share. I’m caught up in remembering why Ale, Pam and I started this blog, what we wanted to achieve–

Nah, ain’t nobody got time for that. Guys, I cleaned off my desk for this, so pay attention. I know it’s been awhile, sorry about that. But …We’re back! Well… mostly. Anyway. I guess you want some sort of explanation? No? Well you’re getting one any way. A lot has happened since August 5th.

  • I got a promotion
  • My roommate got a promotion
  • My best friend got a promotion
    • (look at my squad, y’all)
  • Discovered X Ambassadors
    • (but please stop playing Renegades everywhere. It’s not that great)
  • Started eating healthy
  • Stopped eating healthy
  • Swore off Fireball
    • Had several shots of fireball since
  • Started drinking less coffee
    • admittedly, I’ve had three small cups today
    • and i bought 4 new coffee mugs
  • Started sleeping more
  • I lost like 15 pounds
    • Correction: I lost like 15 pounds and you can’t really tell
  • I started kickboxing
  • I stopped kickboxing
  • Learned that having long hair means occasionally chewing on it by accident
  • Fell in love with a Podcasts host
  • Joined a wine club
  • Deleted Tinder
  • Looked for a new apartment
  • Found a new apartment
  • Wrote a bunch of nonsense that none of you will ever read
    • never
  • I got bangs again
  • Read the Martian
  • Boycotted Matt Damon*
  • Went to a few concerts
  • Fell in love with the entire firehouse across the street

So yeah. Clearly I’ve been busy! But! I’ll start from the top.

Some time ago, I wrote a post about new beginnings or something like that, that went on about jobs and finding a job that you liked and such, blah, blah. Well I’m happy to say I found it. I found a great spot where I am happy and healthy and loving what I do. Apparently they like me too and decided that I should have more things to do. I’ll take it!

More of those work things, unfortunately meant less time for my beloved blog. Wait for the single shed tear… but in all seriousness. It’s pretty great.

On to the next one. AND BEFORE YOU EXIT OUT OF THE POST, I am not going to talk about all of these. Geez calm down.

So yeah, my roommate got a promotion and it’s awesome. I’m so happy for her and she deserves all of it! But…  I’m freaking out a bit.

Around 8 years ago, I met this girl in line at a Mayday Parade concert. Okay so technically I was eavesdropping and basically kept inserting myself into her conversation with her friend. Who knew I was so rude? Anyway, it paid off because after that we became Myspace friends! We kept in touch, went to a bunch of concert together. And then six years ago we got an apartment together and now she’s one of my best friends, actually more like family. “IT’S THE END OF AN ERA”, they say (I’m sure someone said it). “What are you going to do?” they ask. “How do you like living alone?” Well, my friends. I don’t like it one bit.

Sure, I get to clean up whenever I want, I don’t feel bad about leaving my coffee mugs around, and the AC has not gone below 75 degrees. But I’ve realized a few things about myself.

1) I don’t like being by myself. Like even if we’re on different sides of the apartment and I have no intention of leaving my room to go and talk to someone, I like the idea of having them around!

2) Even though my roommate didn’t drink, and more so watching me dance like an idiot in my infamous one-woman-dance parties, it’s a lot less fun to turn your living room into a dance club when there’s no one there to laugh at you when you trip over the ottoman cube or silently judge you into not having that third glass of wine.

3) I’m terrified of a lot of things. I’ve always known this about myself, but damn, there’s nothing like walking into an empty apartment and then suddenly thinking there’s someone hiding behind your curtains. NOT GOOD.

So yeah, being alone sucks. I’m not really surprised by this. Coming from the person who practically forces people to be friends with her ( I DON’T SEE THEM COMPLAINING THO), there’s no doubt that I would want someone to share my space with.

I have three more months of solitude ahead, so anything could happen. *Ellie Goulding’s Anything Could Happen fades in*

I could learn to love it.

I could continue to hate it.

I could get a cat.

But for now, I’m just gonna dance it out.

See you guys next time.
*Still boycotting Matt Damon. Anyone want my 7 copies of the Bourne Identity?

Fangirl : The Nerd Unleashed?


My roommate and I are nerds. In fact, we have a John Green quote posted on our living room wall that reads:

“Nerds like us are allowed to be unironically enthusiastic about stuff… Nerds are allowed to love stuff, like jump-up-and-down-in-the-chair-can’t-control-yourself love it. Hank, when people call people nerds, mostly what they’re saying is ‘you like stuff.’ Which is just not a good insult at all. Like, ‘you are too enthusiastic about the miracle of human consciousness’.”

When I first saw this poster I remembered being so excited that “Yes! someone put into words how I feel about a lot of things! Oh my God John Green be my friend. I love you!” which introduces, in the same sentence, the Fangirl.

I’d like to consider myself in someway an experienced fangirl. I wouldn’t go to say I’m a professional like Tyler Oakley, but I’ve had my fair share of pure joy moments brought on by the sheer existence of my favorite person, show, or band.

Let me give you a bit of exposition on my fangirling days. It’s hard to say who started it all, The Spice Girls or The Power Rangers. While these things are polar opposites, they both had me enthralled as a young girl. I needed to be Sporty Spice and dreamed of the day that I could do backflips in platform shoes (which I don’t think ever actually happened), and I would fight tooth and nail for the chance to be the Pink Ranger in Power Ranger Play Pretend (although my sister normally won 😦 and I’m apparently still butt hurt). I remember spending hours upon hours singing songs or karate chopping my stuffed animals. I’ve seen Spice World and the Power Rangers (both original and Turbo [obvi the better one and I will fight you about it]) movies more times that I care to admit and can probably explain them, shot-by-shot, in great detail.

As I grew older, the frequency in which I actively talked about these two things or watched the movies decreased to almost nonexistent, but my love and appreciation for them never went away. Which led me to think, was I ever really just a fangirl?

blurrytwiconpicIn contrast to this is my experience with Twilight. I always say “Everyone went through the Twilight phase” normally followed by a snarky “don’t even try me.” But I remembered being so invested in all of the… hype[?] and needing to know everything about the characters which then transferred over to the movie in relation to needing to know everything about the actors. I watched hours of press junket interviews, talked ad nauseum about my Bella and Jacob feelings and my much stronger anti-Edward feels. I did it all, read the books, watch the movies, reread the books, went to cons, rewatched the movies, and regrettably spent way too much time looking at pictures of Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart. I look back and can really only be grateful for a few things during this time in my life, unlike with Harry Potter which I was exposed to several years earlier and still to this day talk about with my friends, revisit the books and movies, and appropriately freak out at the theme park.

But this isn’t another debate about Twilight vs Harry Potter or the impact either had on popular culture, but more so about differences between being a nerd and a fangirl.

I asked a bunch of my friends this week if they thought there was a difference between being a nerd and being a fangirl. I wasn’t surprised that it was overall “Yes”, but I was surprised that it was unanimous. And more than that, the idea of being a fangirl was viewed negatively.

Before I started writing about this, I never thought to compare these two types of groups. But then I thought “well wait, it’s like John Green’s quote, they both just really love something. Why is it different?”

According to my friends Fangirls are obsessive, superficial, extreme, stalkers and emotional; while Nerds are passionate, rational, inclusive, and excited. It’s easy to point fingers at certain groups of people like the Directioners and Beliebers and even the Twihards because even I can recognize crazy. But for me, this was alarming. I never really thought of the negative connotation given to the Fangirl because I for so long associated myself as one of them. Sure, I was aware that other people cared more (way more) than I do about certain aspects of things, but to me that didn’t make me less of a fan.

Which opens up a whole new realm of conversation about the topic. Are there levels of Fangirling? Are Fangirls Nerds who just missed the mark of passion and sailed into obsession? OR are Nerds Fangirls who matured into respectfulness?

Coming to the end of this, I don’t really have a conclusion or an answer. Have the tendencies of a nerd turned into fangirling through the access to social media? Is it a widespread problem that involves only our youth (*Schmidt voice*YOUTHS). However, after thinking about it further I came to this realization; while a Fangirls excitement is a feathery moment caught in the fleeting winds of popular culture, the experiences of a Nerd lingers. It embeds itself into the core of our DNA and last forever.

My Neverending List of #fails: Part I

Somewhere on the internet there is a quote from Steve Carell that sort of goes like this: Comedy is being good at being bad at things. Or something about failure is funny. I don’t know I couldn’t find it in my ten minute Google Search…so, whatever. It stuck with me for so many years (this was during the press junket for Get Smart so obvi a long time ago) and I reference (incorrectly) it all the time: in writing, in life, whenever I fail hysterically at something, which is often. Hence this list.

My incomplete list of total and complete fails in no particular order:

  1. The Real reason I don’t cook more often. Moral of the story don’t leave a boiling pot unattended for more than a few minutes. (or ever idk. I mean can i live?)Screen Shot 2015-07-22 at 12.28.27 PM
  2. That time I yelled at Julia Stiles.
  3. That time my roommate and I had a sick ass Bar B Q
  4. That time I cried meeting Jake Bundrick
  5. That time I almost cried the second time I met Jake Bundrick
  6. That time I cried meeting Bryce Avary
  7. Anytime I’ve cried meeting anyone
  8. That time my mom asked me how I knew what “choke the chicken” meant
  9. That time I tried to do that thing and then failedScreen Shot 2015-07-22 at 12.28.51 PM
  10. That time I told Jason David Frank that I watched Power Rangers until I was 13.
  11. That time I tried to impersonate a stripper and fell off the railings
  12. The Twilight phase
  13. That time I yelled out at an Ellie Goulding show “Wooo yeah Guns and Roses” When she in fact said “This one’s called  “Guns and Horses”.
  14. That time a band member called me out for dancing so hard
  15. That time I wore a Fedora
  16. High School in general
  17. Whatever is happening here                                        .Screen Shot 2015-07-22 at 12.29.15 PM
  18. Every time I log into Myspace (yes that still happens)
  19. My customized Myspace page
  20. That time someone asked me if I was going to Big Bend and I said “Oh no, I don’t have a passport.”                                                                               youtried

Everyone has those days, those brain-fart moments, or times where all they want to do is forever insert their foot in their mouths. Sometimes you just gotta roll with it and move on. When the people start to laugh, chin up and join in.


Open Letter To My Insecurities

picDear Insecurities,

We’ve been friends for quite some time now, long before high school, long before puberty, possibly even earlier. You’ve kept a steady hand at my back, a tight grip on my shoulders, and made sure to be there in my darkest hours. You’re around when I buy groceries reminding me some things cost more than money and my thighs can’t afford it. You’re there when I look in the mirror and there when I step on the scale, a sweet whisper in my ear saying you should be better.

You’re there to remind me of my failures, so I can remember that I can’t do better.

You play my embarrassments on loop, so I remember who I really am.

You slip in side-by-side comparisons when every pretty girl walks by, so I know what I’ll never be.

You are always there when I fall to remind me this is where I belong.

Over the years I’ve called you different things by the ways of “security blanket” or “that’s just who I am”. You’ve worn different faces in friends and boyfriends and mentors and peers, but mostly one that looks very similar to me.

For so long you’ve been apart of my life, we’ve basically become one, and over time, together, we’ve created something big and impressive, monstrous and terrifying that skulks through the plains of my mind — my own worst enemy.

You recently took on the face of someone I once considered a friend, and in a vile and vicious attack you told me to get some confidence along with other things.

Well here’s step one: Insecurity, kindly piss off.

Actually scratch that, pack all of your shit and leave. Take all of your advice and needling comparisons, take all of your scathing insults and side-eye’d looks and just GTFO. You’re no longer needed here, and most importantly you are not welcomed here.

I will rise above my failure, because I can learn from my mistakes.

I will laugh at my embarrassments, because perfection is boring.

I will smile at and compliment the pretty girl as she walks by, because we all need a little boost sometimes.

And when I fall, I will get back up and soar above everything that knocked me down.

Today, my #wcw goes to me, because without you, I am amazing. Without you, I am fearless. Without you, I am proud to be me.

See you never,


Maybe she’s born with it? Maybe it…shhh…no.

IMG_1916I am always late to the party —  literally and figuratively. I’m generally the last one to hop on board a trend, to find out about some rando celeb drama, and I’m also pretty late to most social events. Let me tell you, it makes for awkward smalltalk. “Yeah so that glee is really something

huh? Don’t stop believing….” Yeah, exactly. I’d like to blame it on my sheltered childhood, which I for the record am not ashamed of. I remained blissfully ignorant  on a lot of things well into my late teens and early twenties (I can feel Pam laughing at how old I’m getting *desperately searches for the middle finger emoji*). Boys, dating, fashion, the list goes on, but now as my quarter-life crisis comes to a peak, I find it a bit ridiculous that I know next to nothing about makeup.

To be clear, I know a few things. I know what foundation is. I have somewhat figured out the right color for me. I can do a decent smokey eye look (which only a fourth of the time looks like a black eye). But don’t you dare talk about my brows, they are perfectly fine the way they are.

Anyway, I saw this tumblr post that made me want to try a few things. Four different shades of foundation (it took a while to find the right one!) and one hour later, I found myself with what felt like a pound of makeup on and only questionable success. It was time to make a trip.

So, I probably should have went to a place like ulta or sephora or something like that. Instead I went to Target, which in my opinion is the motherland. I had a list, I was ready. I needed all the makeup, and bread… Two birds, you know.

I was… less than successful. Let me walk you through my experience.

  • Oh my god, my face feels so heavy.
  • Do I look like I’m trying to hard?
  • Did she just throw shade at me?
  • To be fair I did almost walk into her
  • It is very hard to inconspicuously take a decent selfie and walk
  • But I’m trying not to make eye contact with anyone
  • my face is like noticeably lighter than the rest of me, which I don’t think was the plan
  • …that eyeshadow was probably not for contouring.
  • oh wait I have a coupon for maxi skirts
  • oooOOOOoo pretty!
  • don’t touch your face, because it you touch your face everything you touch will be smeared in brown. SAVE ALL OF THE THINGS
  • No. Kristen, you are on a mission. BRead and makeup that’s it!
  • Okay here at the makeup aisle
  • God, there is just so much stuff
  • What do I do with pressed powder?
  • Is there a difference between BB cream and BB balm?
  • What the hell is CC?!?!
  • Glow? Glamour? Transform?
  • Airbrushed? HOW?
  • Speaking of brushes. I can not possibly need that many
  • Okay I’ll try another aisle
  • So many colors
  • So many shades
  • I’m getting a headache
  • Shine-free
  • cruelty-free
  • What next: gluten-free?
  • It’s like a doofus playing madlibs
  • Volume, definition, bold, nude, bronze, magic!
  • Get me out of here!
  • Where did I park my car?

That’s basically how I spent an hour of my life, BUT I did not forget the bread. #PRAISEHIM.


I feel like a normal person again. It only took two exfoliating scrub cloths, a palm-full of deep
cleansing wash, one aloe mask, and a large glass of the classiest box-wine money can buy.

Along my journey, I learned some very important things about myself. One, I know all the words to The Next Ten Minutes; two, I am completely hopeless. Time for reinforcements.

Pam and Ale, as two of my best friends and the nerdiest makeup gurus I know… Help?

To be continued…


When life gives you lemons, you sometimes wish for limes because they go better with tequila

Snapchat--2672837582882681986Alternatively named: the process of an all-day hangover.

Step 1:  Participate in an all night rager.  Well technically in my case it wasn’t an all night type of deal. It normally isn’t. I tend to be promptly in my bed by 3:00 – 3:30 AM, which yes I know in typical fashion is considered pretty late, but I used to work at a bar and so this is just an hour or so past closing time ( feel free to hum semisonic for the rest of the blog post).  But no, this was not some full throttle Project X type of ordeal. In this instance it was more like two poorly timed tequila shots. Feel free to switch the song in your head to 0 to 100 because that’s how most of my nights seem to end up.

Step 2: Wake up immensely confused. Not in the sense of holy shit where am I? But more like: Why did I do that again, or why is my computer so close to my face, or why does my arm hurt in that spot specifically?

Step 3:  Try and remember what happened the night before. Which immediately leads to…

Step 4: Try and go back to sleep. Step 3 can be revisited at a later time. Hopefully, well after several cups of coffee.  Step 4 can be tricky for many reasons. 1. Do I have to work? Because I have had the misfortune of making yet another terrible mistake like turning up on a Tuesday then yeah, Step 4 is not an option for me.  2. Sometimes my head hurts too much for me to go back to sleep and I’m promptly pushed into the next part of my day.

Step 5: Find water. This does not sound like a hard task. I know. But sometimes finding the will to pull myself out of bed and over to the nearest source of water is the last thing on my mind. Cotton-mouth be damned.

Snapchat-20141130031938Step 6: Forget water and guzzle down coffee. No real explanation needed.

After this step, my day can go a couple of different ways. The fog in my head will lift and I become a regular, or as close to it as I ever come, functioning adult.  It really depends on the type of hangover I wake up to.

Sometimes I just wake up confused, like there’s cotton in my head or something. Plus I always feel a few steps behind everyone else and incredibly slow in understanding things. Try doing a phone interview like this. I D I O T.

I feel like the most popular hangover experience is waking up hungover. But even worse than the immediate “wake-up you’re hungover” is the “surprise! It’s three hours into your day and now you’re furiously ready to puke everywhere.”

I hate it! I feel bamboozled by my own body.  I wake up feeling victorious because I’ve escaped a hangover finally. Then the symptoms slowly creep in. A little twinge of pain in my head here,  a questionable gurgle in my tummy there,  then like a damn freight train to the face, hello full blown hangover. Like I don’t have plans or something.

I’ll be honest. I’m hungover a lot. It’s nothing I’m particularly proud or ashamed of, just a matter of fact. I figure most people go through their stage of drinking/partying all the time when they are in college.  I didn’t get to do that! My first two years of college I lived at home, and when I went to university, I was not in those partying circles, mostly due to the fact that my closest friend was a few years older than me and totally against that type of living. Bring on the board games.

The sad thing of it all, is I have yet to find a decent hangover remedy. I’ve looked online, called my seasoned partying friends and family and asked them for advice; I haven’t really found one thing that works.  Some of them don’t work at all!

Most importantly I’d like to congratulate myself for finishing something as eloquent as this </sarcasm>, while hungover. You’re welcome internet.

Peace out,



Dear 16 year old me…


Dear 16 year old me,

You awkward little ray of sunshine. I love you so much. You are so innocent and naive and it is just so wonderful. We’re 25 now and we’ve done a bit of growing up. I’m not going to lie to you, most of our growing up has happened in the last year! That’s okay though. I feel wise enough to give you the advice I wish I would have heard.

Are you ready? Write this down.

Study more

I know it sounds lame, especially when you are doing just fine without, but your grades will be significantly better. AND you can go to a university instead of community college AND get that full college experience like in Sidney White… and every other college romcom you like to watch. (PS in a few years don’t let anyone give you crap for watching Romantic Comedies.) And think about how excited Dad would be if you joined a sorority (what a weirdo).

Apart from all of that, if you paid attention more in school and current events you wouldn’t second guess yourself as much as you do these days (and by these days I mean the 2010’s babe… you’re damn old now!) or be as dependent on Google. Most importantly… you’d probably be a better speller.


Despite what the movies, books and magazines say, you are not to, under any circumstances, tell that young man that you think he’s cute and you want to date him! You are a fragile little bird and are not ready for that type of rejection. It will scar you for years. DO NOT DO IT.

The friendzone is a safe place to be until you’re ready to not be an awkward little duckling. And that’s okay, do not rush into this part of your life. Trust me.

Tell your mom you want new clothes.

And clothes that fit. This is important.

Also, Start saying “treat yo self”. In 7 years you’ll have the ego the size of oregon because of it.

Ask Dad to play the guitar.

We both know you hate the saxophone, and there’s no turning back now since you’ve been playing for 6 years or something. So, tell Dad you want to play the guitar. He’ll be freaking thrilled! And he’ll teach you how to play American Pie and you’ll have tons of fun and spend Sunday evenings playing jazz scales and classic rock songs because “you can’t be a rocker if you don’t know where it came from.” But brace yourself because he is totally going to make you play for Granny and Aunt Ruby and god knows who else at Christmas. It’ll be totally embarrassing, but do it anyway because it’ll make him smile.

Stop teasing Dad about his singing

You’ll miss it.

When those girls at school offer it to you, take it!

You’ll know what I’m talking about when it happens. Don’t be afraid to try new things. Lifes too short to live in a box as long as we have. Don’t go crazy. Try it once and let it go.

That book you’re writing…

Finish it. It’s weird because you’re into weird shit like that, but finish it! You’ll feel so great and you probably won’t ever show it to anyone but that’s okay because you did it! And then rewrite it. And again, until you’re ready to show it to someone.

Then keep writing.
Write everyday.

And then fly.

Hang out with Brittany more

I know she’s kind of mean sometimes, and you two fight over stupid things like why she didn’t put your shirt back in your room or why you have to clean the dishes when it’s clearly her day, but it’s more important than you can imagine. And you can’t see it now, but you need her just as much as she needs you.

Trust me.

Spend more time with Dad

Force him to spend time with you. No matter how tired he is. Make him teach you how to draw. Make him teach you how to write music. I repeat, make him spend time with you. Which will probably mean that you have to go to church with him on Saturday nights. Do it, you deviant.
Do not spend so much time on Myspace and DO NOT lie to that boy.

1) Myspace will be a joke in 3 years. I know it’s hard to believe, but there is a thing called Facebook and it’s about to BLOW UP. You should definitely buy some stock with your graduation money.

2) I know you and Michelle think it’s funny, but it’s not, and when you realize that, the guilt will eat you alive. So just tell him the truth. He’s kind of an idiot anyway. It’s really no loss there.

Read your English books

I know you try. But then you get lazy and sparknotes the book halfway through. Don’t do that. READ IT ALL. Highlight the parts you don’t understand and THEN sparknote those sections you don’t get.

You’re life will be so much cooler when you can make witty literary references.

But you know, FRIENDS jokes and references are just as cool.

Practice, Practice, Practice

Listen to me. Just because you don’t do something right the first time doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you human and not some freak of nature who was probably genetically created in some lab in the arctic.

But seriously, the saying ‘Practice makes perfect’ exist for a reason. You fail by giving up so quickly. Give it time, and then if doesn’t work out then you’ll know it’s not right for you. Knowing when to quit is different than giving up. Remember that.

Remember you are awesome!

A ton of people will tell you that you are. So much that you’ll need to hear it all the time for reassurance. Stop that. You don’t need to hear it, have faith that you are. Have faith that you can do anything you set your mind to without having to be told constantly.

The sooner you do that the better your life will be.

Stay kind.

You have one of the biggest hearts out there. Never let that go.

Did you get all of that, little bird?

Alright get out of here and back to playing the Sims or whatever.

Dream big, you amazing little weirdo.


Adult (and slightly awkward) Kristen