My break-up letter to school

     Dear School, 

     I think it’s time we start seeing other people. I know it’s midterms week and our half semester anniversary, but you’re turning into a needy, bitch. There I said it. Sorry for being so harsh. Don’t worry, it’s not you, it’s me. I’ve just got other priorities right now. There are so many other fish in the sea like sleep, friends, and extra-curricular activities. Sleep and I have been flirting a lot, I can’t keep napping behind your back. I’m young and I need to experience life. No, I won’t come around with time.

     Okay, I lied up there. It’s mostly you. Honestly, you’re a little old for me. You’ve been around for quite awhile. Plus you never take me out anymore. What happened to field trips and science experiments? We’ve become complacent and boring like an old married couple. Spring is coming and I need a break. I’m going to Toronto next week and I don’t want you to follow me. I won’t have cell service so don’t try and call. This is for the best.

Hopefully we can still be friends,



Facebook and puppies

One of my favorite books as a child was The Puppy Who Wanted a Boy. It tells the tale of an adorable puppy that wants a boy for Christmas. I love that book. SPOILER ALERT: It’s great because the puppy finds a whole group of boys that love him for himself. I want to talk about how the modern world makes it hard for the puppy to be loved.

Mostly, I blame Facebook. Facebook ridiculously complicates the process of meeting new people. In the Facebook age the boys would probably add the puppy, find out he likes some movie they hate and not be his friend. Or maybe the puppy had a bad hair day, someone tagged him a photo and now they don’t think he’s as adorable. Or maybe the puppy has one picture in which he looks a tad intoxicated and the boys think the puppy isn’t qualified to be their puppy despite his undeniable cuteness and people skills.

The poor puppy probably feels exhausted from constantly catering to the digital celebrity that everyone deals with today. Don’t get me wrong. I love Facebook. It’s great for sharing information with friends and family. It’s significantly less great as a resume. I’m not just talking about employers looking at Facebook (though that happens). People use Facebook to decide if someone is friend/date/lover/co-worker/partner in crime/whatever material. It’s not healthy. People possess a complexity that Facebook just can’t capture.

The way people look on paper (or in this case, computer screen) differs from how that person exists in real life. You know, real life, that thing that happens while people aren’t on Facebook. I’m not addressing this issue from a morally superior level. I Facebook creep. However, I’m going to try and stop. It leads to people shopping. Maybe I’ll be one person’s friend because Facebook says that person likes dogs and the other person likes cats. Everyone knows dogs are cooler. This is true, but a ridiculous tidbit on which to base a friendship. Maybe the cat person is the love of your life and the dog person is a vampire who only likes puppies because they’re delicious. It’s a crazy world out there.

ImageSo I vote we stop. Stop treating Facebook like the Classifieds. I’m giving up reading someone’s about me section before talking to that someone. I want to live in a world where the puppy finds his boy.

Best Wishes,


Letters of angst and anger

     Sometimes people make me mad. I like to deal with this by threatening to write angry letters. However, I never follow through. This is mostly because I get distracted by a shiny object and forget I’m mad. However I’m very upset with my school’s dining services for messing up my vegetarian food options. So I wrote them a dissatisfied letter. That letter wasn’t super fun because I didn’t want to be mean. In the spirit of fun and mean, I decided to write some of the angry letters I’ve threatened to send over the years. Here’s how they would go.


Dear whoever is sending emails asking if I’m stressed,

     Why yes, I am. My stress is mostly a result of the ten million emails you send me trying to get me to go to stress management workshops. I have more important things to do with my life. I need to write this blog. Also, Pretty Little Liars is on tonight. So please stop reminding me how stressed I am.


Dear person on a Bluetooth headset,

     Stop looking at me like I’m insane when I think you’re talking to me. I’m not the crazy one hearing voices in my head. You are. Also, you look dumb. I’m guessing that was obvious but in case no one ever told you, I’ll be that kind soul. You look slightly demented chatting to the air. If you’re really important and on some call that saves the world or something, I’m sorry for calling you dumb. Though if you’re busy saving the world you probably shouldn’t be reading my blog…


Dear professor who can’t use Power Points properly,

     Fun fact: I can read. Quite well actually. I’m even aware that the statement prior to this sentence is a fragment. I don’t care, but I am aware. With my wonderful reading powers I can understand all of those words on your Power Point. This makes you reading the words to me again both redundant and incredibly boring. Please don’t put me to sleep. Don’t write a whole lecture on Power Point slides. Just say no to mind numbing Power Points. Take that speech class all of the students are required to pass.


Dear admissions office at Hogwarts,

     I’m still peeved I never got a letter. What’s that about? Did my owl get lost? Maybe you should start using email or get a website. I wouldn’t even use my magical powers to blow up relatives or free zoo animals. Well, unless they were in really tiny cages. That’s just too sad. So, I might free zoo animals. No pudding floating though, and I probably wouldn’t fly a car. If I did, I’d use ninja-like sneakiness. Do you accept transfer students?


Dear cropped tops,

     Why are you so popular? I’m not sure where whoever decided this trend lives, but I can’t walk around in half a t-shirt on a normal day. It’s not that I don’t like my stomach. I do. I have abs of semi regularly worked out muscle. They could probably stop a paintball. However, not everyone wants to see my abs. I’m not sure why, but it’s true. So, please make shirts normal lengths again. I’d greatly appreciate it. Also, leggings still aren’t pants. Just FYI world.


Dear scientists,

     I would politely like to inquire when we (the general population) can expect flying cars. Soon? Soonish? I know this will completely ruin any chance I’ve got at a good hair day, but I’m willing to sacrifice style for a flying car. Can we get someone working on those? Think how fun it’d be to take pet birds out for a fly or to avoid awful traffic. Fly in movie theatres would be amazing. I understand we’re having a fuel crisis. I suppose you can work on green fuel first, but personally I’d be more motivated to live green if I had a flying car. I’d look down on all of the beautiful nature and never forget to recycle ever again. Think about it.

Dear mean people,

     You suck. Being mean isn’t cool. It was never cool. It will never be cool. So yeah, stop that. 


      Okay this out pouring of angst made me feel much better. I’ll write a post of nice letters sometime to counter all of the annoyances in this one. Today was a day of pet peeves. I think it’s a Monday trait. I’m going to go do fun, happy things now. 

Best Wishes,



The image is from here.

Pocket giraffes and volunteering

Sometimes life doesn’t give you lemons, on Saturday it gave me a pocket giraffe. This Saturday I participated in Ball State University’s Dance Marathon. We raised over $89,000 dollars for Riley’s Children Hospital. Pretty awesome, huh? Yeah it was. Plus I got this really cute giraffe who fits in my coat pocket and is thus a pocket giraffe. I haven’t decided what to name him yet, but people get like nine months to come up with baby names and this is way cuter than some baby so I can take more time. Sounds fair, right? Anyways the brief point my giraffe and I want to make is that volunteering is cool and results in awesome things like giraffes. So you should volunteer. Do it. It’s fun and you’ll meet awesome people. I promise. If I’m wrong you can write me an angry letter.

Best Wishes,


Kiss & Tell

          I have to give credit to the inspiration for this blog post to a post on Thought Catalog entry called “Can You Remember Every Person You’ve Ever Kissed?Image

           As someone who likes lists and challenges, I attempted the task. Turns out, I’ve kissed a decent amount of people. In the interests of protecting the innocent I’m not going to share my list. It really wouldn’t be fair. A lady never kisses and tells and whatnot. Though with the digital age it might be smart to start signing confidentiality agreements before kissing people. Everything seems to be fair game. I just envisioned a rate my professor style website only for the purpose of rating kissers. Wouldn’t that be terrifying? The hotness ratings on professors are already creepy enough. Hopefully life never gets to that point of over sharing.

            However, I can share my number without comprising anyone’s identity. According to my best attempts at recollection I’ve kissed 19 people. Does that seem like a lot? I couldn’t really decide. I did some Internet creeping and found people with much lower and much higher numbers. According to ChaCha the average woman kisses 29 men before she gets married. Considering I’m only 20 and don’t want to get married anytime soon, that number seems rather low.

            There really aren’t a lot of good studies done on kissing numbers. A lot of information exists on sexual partners, but that’s no help with this blog post. How am I supposed to know what’s normal without statistics to guide me? Clearly the media is the next best place to look.

            The media turns out to be full of extremes as well. I’ve kissed a lot more people than Drew Barrymore’s character in Never Been Kissed, but significantly less than Neil Patrick Harris’s character on “How I Met Your Mother.” I don’t really want to compare myself to the casts of Jersey Shore or the characters on Gossip Girl. The media tends to adore the extremes and glorify people who kiss lots or people who kiss only a little. IT appears a consensus on the socially acceptable amount of people to kiss is lacking.

            I guess in the end there is no right number. There are just numbers. Kissing should be two people going “oh hey, I like you in a way that makes me want to high five with our faces.” Different people feel that way different amounts of time through out their life. I’m certainly not going to start judging. It’s rather fun to reflect on all of the sweet, awkward, funny, and loving kissing moments in my life. I don’t know if my number is normal or not, but I do know for at least one moment in time I liked each and every person I’ve kissed. In the end, that’s enough for me.

Best Wishes,


The obligatory Valentine’s Day post about love

I don’t want to be a jaded cynical cat lady. So I decided to use Valentine’s Day to reflect on all of the reasons I’ve loved people. Not just relationship love, all kinds of love. Silly love, serious love, senseless love, fleeting love, creepy love. It’s all here baby. Hope you enjoy.

People I Love

            People who hold open the door for me. People who make small talk in elevators. People who jump in elevators because it’s silly but fun. People who like the same shows/books/movies as me. People who sing in public. People who dance like no one is watching. People who shake what their momma gave them. People who partner with me in games that I’m not good at. People who don’t get mad when I get mad that they messed up my hair. People who wear bright clothes. People who look cute for no reason. People with funny laughs. People with funny sneezes. People who tell knock-knock jokes. People who wish on shooting stars. People who wish at 11:11. People who speak foreign languages. People who share snacks. People who point out when I have food in my teeth. People who still have stuffed animals. People who are optimistic. People with dimples. People with pretty shoes. People with fun colored hair. People with accents. People who smile when I awkwardly make eye contact while walking down the street. People who are really excited about something. People wearing mismatching socks. People with puppies or kittens. People who laugh at the number 69. People who laugh when other people eat bananas. People who open bananas for me because I can’t. People who play peek-a-boo. People with funny slogans on their t-shirts. People who do the hokey-pokey. People who are ticklish. People who make funny faces in pictures. People who don’t like foods that I do like and then let me eat that food. People who kiss on the cheek and on the neck. People who reach things off of shelves for me. People who dance on tables. People who smell nice. People who tell me I smell nice. People who suggest good music for me to check out. People who check me out. People I check out. People who wave enthusiastically. People who make yummy food. People who volunteer. People who answer questions in class. People who sit in front of me in class and look up funny things. People with cool ringtones. People who use proper grammar on Facebook. People who inspire me to do good things. People who inspire me to do bad things. People who inspire me. People who share the covers. People who use big words correctly. People who are good tippers. People who hold my hand during scary movies. People who hold hands. People who sing loudly in the car. People who blush easily. People who make me blush. People who kill spiders for me. People who give really great hugs. People who raise a pinky while drinking tea. People who tell nerdy jokes. People who tell dirty, nerdy jokes. People who say “that’s what she said” at the opportune moment. People who enjoy playing with bubble wrap. People who color outside the lines. People who still color. People who eat peanut butter straight from the jar. People who make tent forts. People who dance in their underwear. People who put lots of marshmallows in hot chocolate. People who talk to inanimate objects. People who eat ice cream straight from the tub. People who take bubble baths. People who wish Hogwarts was real. People who shave when kissing gets itchy. People who send flirty text messages. People who reference insides jokes I’m in on. People who let me in on an inside joke. People who dance in the rain with me. People who jump in puddles. People who wear scarves to hide hickeys. People who read my blog posts. People who rock freckles. People who are nice. People who are silly. People who wear bowties. People who scare away my hiccoughs. People who play board games. People who promptly respond to text messages. People who text me good morning. People who text me good night. People who think getting drunk off wine is classy. People who read comic books. People who reenact silly scenes from movies like kissing upside down in Spiderman. People who wear polka dots. People who French kiss really well. People who are French and French kiss really well. People who are sappy. People who are wild. People who are free. People who like picnics. People who enjoy nature. People who make mistakes and carry on. People who don’t mind leaning down to kiss me. People who jump on beds. People who post funny things on Facebook. People who say exactly what I was thinking and though they may never know make me feel less alone in this giant world. People who make me believe in love in all of its glorious messy chaos. Thank You! For that I’ll always love you.

Best wishes,


You’re not in the friend zone. I just don’t like you.

            In an older postImage I addressed the “nice guy” issue. Now I want to address the “friend zone” issue. If one more person whines about being in the friend zone on Facebook I will defriend said person and hopefully remove some of this stressful friend being from his or her life. The main difference between a friend and a significant other is that a lot more germs are exchanged with a significant other. So presumably the difference between being a friend and being in the friend zone is that one person desires the exchanging of germs and the other person does not.

            Exchanging of germs has little to do with friendship. That is an entirely different issue. No one sorts their acquaintances into people to swap spit with and those in the friend zone. This is a lot like how nice guys want to be liked for being a nice guy. Being my friend doesn’t automatically mean I should date you if I found myself single. What’s the difference between the rejected person who is a friend and the one who isn’t? Isn’t it better to be a friend? At least someone wants to spend time with the “friend zone” person. I refuse to pity you. Friendship is not a carnival game; you don’t win tickets and then get a prize.

            I had a friend in high school that didn’t seem to understand this distinction. My friend Dan (this is a fake name, I chose it specifically because I don’t have any friends named Dan) tried to kiss me one time when we were hanging out. I politely declined. A week or so ago I had made out with some boy at a party. Dan legitimately argued that we were friends so why would I make out with this other guy and not him. Call me crazy, but friendship does not entitle you to anything. That’s not how it works.

            It’s not like girl scouts where you collect badges and then get to cross from friend to lover. People act like friendship is a waiting list for someone to date. I get how society sometimes gives that impression. Especially on TV shows where the few main characters simply swap romantic partners every season or so (like Gossip Girl). However it’s wrong. Being someone’s friend and swapping germs are different. They can coexist but they survive perfectly well on their own.

            You are not being friend zoned. You are a friend and you are being rejected. It has nothing to do with being the person’s friend and everything with not being someone that person wants to date/kiss/whatever it is you want. Sorry. Sucks for you. Go eat some chocolate and get over it. Stop telling me that girls are friend zoning everyone and missing the nice guys. It is not someone’s fault when they find you appealing as a friend and not in other ways. I’m sure someone out there would love your germs. Go find that person and stop creeping on your friend. Kay, thanks.

Best Wishes,