November 24, 2015

Life Goals

Shirt goals {via}

I had to write out my 2016 goals for work the other day. It was nice being asked to set my own goals, rather than being told what they were. I guess it's supposed to help motivate you? Or so they say.

Anyway, it got me thinking about how normally the only thing I associate the word "goal" with is a really chic outfit, or a haircut that I will literally never be able to pull off because I'm not Jennifer Lawrence, but, like, what if I got a pixie cut?

And so I decided to write down some personal goals for 2016, with the mindset that if I write them down I WILL FOLLOW THROUGH WITH THEM. But if this post magically disappears in 6 months, you'll know why.

1. I told my friend Kate that my goal for 29 is to be toned AF. The legs? The legs are well on their way. But I've never (ever, ever, ever) had upper body strength. So I've been working on my arms, and if I flex juuuuust right, you can see definition. Or maybe it was a shadow? Either way: TONED ARMS = goal #1.

2. Write more often, even if what I write does not see the light of day on here. It's tough deciding what I should post and what I should just keep to myself. I sat on this post for three weeks before hitting publish, but I'm glad I did. What I've decided is that no matter what, I need to be writing things down. I get grumpy if I don't.

3. Become a better adult when it comes to things like politics, or at least know enough to have my own opinion. I'll never be one to chat you up about the latest news in Washington (unless you want to talk about Veep and how Dan Egan can get it) but it would be nice to at least be informed about what's going on.

4. Stop putting things off. What's better than a flush bank account after payday? NOTHING. NOT A DAMN THING. So much so that I will wait until the last possible millisecond to pay my bills because having money is nice. But those bills are coming no matter what, you know? So I might as well pay them before I blow all of my cash at Target.

5. Be nicer to my parents. Because we could all work on that, right?

Do you set goals for yourself? If you do, plz leave me detailed instructions as to how you follow through on them because lord knows, I'm going to need help.

November 18, 2015

Modern Woman

Kelsey and I had another visit last week from our Nashville buddy, Matt Haeck. Who knew he liked us enough to reach out to us about coming back? Just kidding, we're fucking rad.

I was less stressed about him being here for a second time- this happens with pretty much anyone I meet. The first time you come to my house, I'm a ball of nerves. The second time you show up, you can get yourself your own drink and whatever you want out the fridge, because I'm not getting up from my chair.

My critternet ("What's a critternet?" - Tiff ) has been dropping the WiFi signal in my house for the past, oh, I don't know...6 months or so? Instead of taking the modem and router back to Time Warner Cable to get replacements, I've spent my time bitching about not having Internet and taking Snapchats of that dreaded orange light with captions like, "I'M A GOOD FUCKING PERSON, I DON'T DESERVE THIS."

But Matt's arrival meant I needed to get serious about it. The last time he was at my house, he fell asleep watching Mike Birbiglia's My Girlfriend's Boyfriend stand-up special on Netflix, and I couldn't let him down by not having Internet.

I took the defective equipment to TWC on my lunch break last week and was given a 3-in-1 modem/router/I guess phone jack? I'm not really sure. The girl was mumbling, and I was Snapchatting stupid shit to Kelsey, not paying attention to anything else. I was in a little bit of disbelief that ONE piece of equipment could do ALL of that, but I was more worried about getting back to work and reading a couple chapters of Breaking Dawn (the last Twilight book, for you noobs) before my break was over.

When I got home that night from work, I tried hooking the thing up and TO NO AVAIL, I could not get the WiFi to work. Hardwired the Internet was fine, but I don't have a laptop, and my iMac is on the opposite side of the living room as my Internet connection. High five for not thinking that one through when the house was redone.

While I was on the phone with a really nice - probably not from the United States - TWC woman, I cracked open a 22oz Twisted Tea. This woman sounded like she was about 4'11", weighing in at roughly 90 pounds, but I trusted her, you know? I really thought she could get my WiFi working.

Well, she couldn't.

So, in a blind, semi-buzzed panic, I texted Kelsey and asked if she could drive me to Walmart after she was done coaching basketball because I needed to buy a router and I needed to buy it RIGHT AWAY. But I couldn't drive myself because, to quote Beyonce, I've been drinking.

This was after I called my brother and left a very alarming voicemail along the lines of, "OH MY GOD, MY INTERNET ISN'T WORKING AND WHY AREN'T YOU ANSWERING ME?" It was 2001 all over again, when my parents' modem broke and we had to wait TWO DAYS for TWC to make a house call. I'm a survivor, that's all I can really say about that.

By the time Kelsey and I got to Walmart, the Twisted Tea had hit my empty stomach and my head, and I was laughing at myself for being kind of drunk in a Walmart on a Monday night. What is my life?

When we got back to my house, I took the new router out of the packaging and called TWC because I thought that's what I had to do to get it working. I explained my case, and he told me how to hook the Netgear router up to the modem, and how to login to the WiFi on my computer. What he neglected to tell me until after I couldn't get the WiFi to work was that he's "not technically trained on Netgear routers."

If you've ever hooked up a new router, you know that they come with a generic password. He kept telling me to double check that I had the password correct, and I kept telling him that I did. At this point Kelsey whispered from across the room (I think she was scared to come any closer): "What is the password?" To which I said, "I don't know...butt trumpet or something."

It was actually rockytrumpet275.

I'm trying really hard not to snap at people. It's something I've been working on and *I think* I've been pretty good about it lately. But as soon as he said he wasn't trained on Netgear routers, I lost it. I'm not even sure what exactly I said to him besides, "DO I EVEN NEED YOUR HELP TO HOOK THIS UP OR CAN I DO THIS ON MY OWN?"

On my own, he said. I immediately hung up on him.

I went back over to the router to double check that I had the password right and that's when I realized I had not only typed in the wrong numbers, but that I had also spelled trumpet wrong.

rockeytrumpt278 does not a WiFi connection make.

"Ohhhh, wait a minute, I think I spelled the password wrong," I said as Kelsey started laughing and calling me out for being the world's worst speller/human being.

Once I typed the correct password in, everything worked, and I did a victory lap around my living room and cracked open another Twisted Tea to celebrate.

My good mood only lasted a few minutes until I realized my father had instructed me to purchase the wrong size blinds for the front window of my living room. Every time I tried to hang them up, they would come crashing down. Kelsey was too busy playing the air fiddle to be of any assistance.

I knew it was too good to be true, the whole not being stressed about Matt coming back thing. So while I wasn't worried about my bathroom being clean enough, or the sheets on the guest bed having cat hair on them, I was deathly afraid the blinds would fall on anyone who sat near that window.

They didn't.

In other news, I've changed my WiFi password to butttrumpet247, so please feel free to connect to it the next time you're at my house getting your own food and drink while I'm Snapchatting in the living room.

November 12, 2015

Here and Now

We were sitting on your couch in the living room of your graduate school apartment, watching some ridiculous horror movie, when I looked over to my left at your jacket and what you had hanging next to it, and said, “Nice book bag.”

“Book bag?” you responded, “Don’t you mean back pack?”

It sparked a discussion about American slang, and how one item can have a variety of names, and sometimes what you call it depends on what part of the country you live in, or maybe what your parents referred to the item as when you were growing up.


It made me realize just how different your life - your childhood - was from mine. And it made me like you that much more. And it made me want to get to know you that much more. It even inspired a post, buried deep now in my drafts, because I truly believed we would have more conversations like that.
The following week I was in Target (of course) getting ice cream (of course) when a child, no older than 3 or 4, came wandering over to me and pointed behind him and said two words: back pack. And sure enough, he was wearing one.  It was May, so there’s no rhyme or reason as to why his parents (who quickly apologized for him coming up to me) would be buying it for him.

It was the first time something happened that made me immediately think of you. Our little inside joke that I could tell you, knowing you and you alone would understand.

When I told you, you joked that “back pack” should be our safe word.

You are unlike anyone I have ever met, and I was really only able to scratch the surface. I was left feeling like there was so much more for me to discover; so many quirks about you that I didn’t get to experience. And for that, I feel quite cheated. And maybe that’s what’s caused me to hang on to something, even after it was so far gone, and out of my control.

I sometimes wonder if that would have been easier if I allowed you to make a mess of me all at once. If I let you in completely, only to be turned away, if it would have hurt less than slowly breaking me down, bit by bit.

There’s a line in a book that I read recently that said, “ stories aren’t always linear and sometimes you don’t get the guy.” I read that line over and over again, letting it sink in. My thoughts immediately went to you and how back and forth and up and down what we had seemed to be. How I never really knew where you were (mentally, physically) and how I still don’t. How I never said the things I should have said, and when I haphazardly put something together to say to you, it was too late and it didn’t come off as it should.

What I ended up saying to you wasn’t enough and it so many ways, that’s how I felt all along; like I wasn’t enough. I faltered by questioning why someone like you could be interested in me, instead of believing in myself and my worth. And when you showed what appeared to me as just the slightest bit of lost interest, I bolted. I put my guard up and thought, “I knew it was too good to be true.”

I pushed you away, all while thinking it was the right thing to do. I pushed you away, instead of talking to you about how I felt.

I reread our conversations and I can tell that I was being hesitant with you. On occasion you would be very open with me about how you were feeling (you said I made you nervous and that you liked that about me), and how I would never really reciprocate that honesty. I know myself and why I acted that way.

What I don’t know is if whether or not I would have ever been able to open up to you the way I want to now, given the chance to spend more time with you. And whether or not you were the lesson I needed to learn so that the next time around, with someone else, I’ll know better than to make the same mistakes I made with you.

If you Google the term “safe word” you’ll see a litany of definitions that all pertain to S&M, bondage, etc., but essentially what the term means is to stop. And when you say this word, you’re supposed to mean it—because you can’t take the pain anymore, because the other person is hurting you too much.

I sit here – 18 months after first meeting you, 5 months after last seeing you – thinking to myself, over and over, “Back pack, back pack, back pack.”

Because there’s too much hurt. And I so desperately need it to stop.

November 3, 2015

Mixtape No. 17

This playlist is a little different than what I normally put together-- it's exclusively songs by Shovels & Rope. I saw them open for The Avett Brothers over the summer and I was instantly hooked. The band is a husband and wife duo, so fingers crossed they stay together forever and keep making great music.


1. Fish Assain
2. Keeper
3. Evil
4. Birmingham
5. Hail Hail
6. Lay Low
7. Swimmin' Time
8. The Devil is All Around
9. After the Storm

(yes, some of these songs have appeared on other mixtapes-- they are just that good)

October 29, 2015

checking in || the end of october

feeling // I accidentally sprayed hairspray in my right eye this morning. If that doesn't explain how I'm feeling, I don't know what does.

craving // Cannoli cake. Oh wait, silly me-- there's some on my desk. Excuse me while I eat this for breakfast...because I'm an adult.

watching // I'm on the last season of Gilmore Girls-- about halfway through, and losing steam by the minute.  I can't get into this last season for some reason, and typically it's because I don't want a show to be over with. In this case, I can't wait for it to end. And where's Jess???

I'm also really into Homeland this season (Peter Quinn <333). And I'm behind on The Walking Dead and Nashville. And want to start House of Cards and The Affair-- can you tell winter is coming and I'm preparing to hibernate?

listening // I got into my car yesterday after work and said (out loud, to myself): "It's a Red kinda day!" So, yeah, I'm listening to a lot of Taylor Swift circa 2013.

drinking // I have an announcement: I found a type of tea that I actually like. I don't drink it every day, and yes, it kind of makes my tongue feel hairy (what's with that?) but I like it nonetheless.
reading // I just finished Me Before You by Jojo Moyes last night. I'm already jonesing for my next fix, and can't wait to pick up the sequel, Me After You. Have you read either of them? LET'S CHAT.

cooking // My friend Kate gave me a recipe book full of soups and I think I'll be taking 4-6 months off from work so I can stay home and try them all out. I'll post any success stories.

thinking // Of all of the things I need to get done before my house guests arrive in a couple of weeks. Remember when this happened? Well, it's happening again, and my mom is most excited.

October 27, 2015

On Staying Hopeful

A few days before my birthday I received an email stating that my PayPal account was charged with another six month membership for

I immediately started to cry-- mostly because I was mad.

Mad that I had forgotten to cancel the account, mad because $129 was not in my budget for that week (or month, really), mad because not even a week beforehand I quietly swore off online dating for good because no good has ever come from it.

I allowed myself five minutes of hysteria and then put myself back in action-- Tiff would be at my house the following day and there was a lot I needed to do beforehand.

It was actually around Tiff's first visit that I started online dating -- some 16 months ago. At that time, I had only spent $15 on a Groupon for Match and was more or less seeing what all the fuss was about.

During her visit I was encouraged to also download Tinder. And while scrolling through that, I realized many of the same men were on Match. And how could they be on both? And what type of game were they trying to play? It was my first eye-opening experience in the land of online dating. And while Tinder has brought its fair share of entertainment, and taught me quite the lesson about myself and others, I've said goodbye to it - for good.

I was hoping to say goodbye to Match, too-- that is, until I was charged for it again.

So, a few days after Tiff left, I decided that if I was paying for it, I might as well use it. I updated my profile, changed some pictures around, and set about scrolling through profiles of eligible men.

I hate it, you know. I hate looking at someone's profile, and attempting to figure out if he'd be a good match for me. I've always said that I don't have a type, but rather a feeling. And the only feeling I get when looking through profiles on a dating app is sadness. And sometimes, nausea.

It's been a month since I began writing this post. A month of redundant weeknights, and busy weekends. A month of going back and forth between deleting Match and trying to make an honest go of it. A month of people telling me that I'm a catch and I'll find someone soon.

A month of me thinking: I don't know how to end this post, because this post really doesn't have an ending yet. There's just me, with a little bit of grit, and some hope-- along with the notion that the Universe will bring me what I need at the exact moment I need it most.