should be kept to myself

SOS From Quarantine Week 9 [?]

What is the saying? Something loves company? I don’t know anymore, but I thought it was going to be a cool introduction to this.

How the hell are you? Dare I ask, how is your quarantine?

Speaking of — I have some synonyms for that word that I feel like sharing: safe spacing, isolation, iso, hell, social distancing, social spacing, space, and more but I’m pulling an all nighter I think and it’s not coming to me.

What a weird time to be writing this. I mean. . . we’re living in [trigger warning] quarantine. Who would have thought? Not I.

I just wanted to get on this old horse and see if it still rides. I will figure out future posting soon [not actually. . .] and will keep you posted.

For now, hope you’re staying safe and washing your damn hands.


should be kept to myself

Leo Bangs

As a product of boredom and lack of inspiration, I now have bangs.

Recently, I’ve been having a pity party for myself due to false hope in my own expectations. Last summer, if you didn’t get the memo, was one of the best summers of my life because it was spent in the south of France, where I frolicked and truly thought I was the queen of Europe. This summer is like the evil step sister to that one. Let me explain:

My first year of college I had a plan for myself, which included many fantasies of becoming famous, studying abroad, interning for a magazine or some sort of publication, dying my hair pink, and definitely knowing wtf I’m doing with my life. Pretty much Absolutely none of those things happened (except for my previously mentioned summer abroad), and that leads me to the self-inflicted disappointment I face today.

According to my college to-do list, this summer was supposed to be the one where I intern for a cool publication, take pride in a trusty by-line and possibly land a career in journalism. THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN, and we’re bitter. The most dismal part of this season has been its mundanity. So what did I do? I put curtains on my forehead and called them bangs.


I’m not sure if it was a reaction to my seasonal depression or just my unwillingness to actually get my life in order, but I substituted my ambitious goals for a temporary identity crisis.

It’s not that I dislike my bangs. In fact, I really really enjoy them. I think they’ve realigned my face nicely and fixed the uneven cowlicks that sprout from my hairline. The bangs aren’t exactly the problem. It’s more-so what they represent. It’s like I tried to put duct tape on my annual creative drought, if we’re going to get metaphorical. The bangs are a testament to the craving of any modern change in my life. I am stuck in a routine, and I thought fringe would fix it.

I don’t have answers or a solution to this. If anything, I feel quite indifferent to the problem. To be more confusing, I’m not even sure if it is a problem if not just a feeling of being inadequate or unbalanced. I need reassurance that I still have control and am on the right path, but don’t we all?

That’s all I have to offer you all for tonight. Maybe next time, I’ll have pink hair.



should be kept to myself

note to self!

Good evening y’all!

Maybe it’s because my AC unit is quite possibly killed and the heat of my bedroom is influencing my sleep deprivation, or because I watched Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants in its dual parts and got a burst of nostalgia. Nonetheless, I felt a strange urge to post on here again. If I’m being honest, I really like my nail polish color right now and seeing my fingers type is maybe the most narcissistic compliment I’ve allowed myself in a while. But my fingers look cute!

Currently she (she being me who likes to talk in third person occasionally. It is my personality complex. don’t ask me about it.) is suffering from a severe canker sore on her bottom lip. It’s kind of trending right now, but more importantly! it’s flared. She (this time she being my angry canker sore) is raging. Why do people do that? Dumb down things like an inflamed canker sore into baby language by calling it an angry ____. The other day I was at my podiatrist, because I am a woman who has a podiatrist — foot and ankle doctor for everyone uneducated in that realm– and he was discussing a procedure that (SPOILER ALERT) I had on my toe. I’ll spare you the details of why I’ve been limping for three months and cut to the chase. He told me my toe was going to be angry, which in medical terms was simply insulting. I’m 20 years old and in most countries very legal to consume alcoholic beverages! I think can handle a doctor telling me that my toe is going to react or become inflamed from the mysterious procedure (that I’m not going to tell you about because you’re currently on a need-to-know-basis) without him having to speak to me like I’m a child and use language like “angry toe!”

Disclaimer: I wore headphones the entire procedure and watched TikTok videos because quite frankly I’m not the mature woman that most people assume me to be! Stop with your assumptions, people!

To dish out some real gossip about her (this time her = me. we’re back to me!), I’ve been in a weird funk. It’s as if I’m in the part of my autobiographical movie when the heroine puts down her fork and starts running has started! Leaving you on a cliff-hanger because I’m not going to continue with my critique of the movie.

Truly, I have no idea what I’m writing about and now I’m very convinced that my ceiling fan is just swinging around all the hot air in the room. Do I crack a window? We’re only on the brink of spring, last week I was still wearing sweaters and now I’m sweating in my microwave of a room. What do you think is cooking?

I’ll leave it at that. Sorry for the spontaneity. Still working on my vocabulary.



she writes it all!

I’m not sure what to write about.

I’ve been in a serious case of writer’s block, and in denial about it, for months now and all my excuses have been used. The truth is there’s a lot of stuff happening in my world, and by “my world” I mean the rest of the world with an emphasis on what affects me.

I’ve been trying to get through my routine winter break reading lists, keeping up with the eco trends of sustainable fashion and saying “no!” to plastic straws (#savetheturtles), and downloading word-a-day dictionary apps to help expand my vocabulary. For the next few posts, you can go ahead and excuse my use of really fancy words as synonyms for adjectives like awesome and cool, because I’m about to get pretty flashy with my word scores.

Because this post is more for the purpose of proving I’m alive, I’ll rely on the default of introducing you to some books, artists, and ideas. Let’s get into it.

Literature. That I’m Reading. All at once? Gasp!

You’re on an Airplane by Parker Posey- I fell in love with this comedic memoir for Posey’s ability to masterfully tell a story with the same amount of dramatic expression and rabbit trails that I find myself akin to. It’s storytelling at its finest, and I’m really a huge fan.

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman- I’m only a few chapters deep, but so far this seems pretty synonymous to Where’d You Go, Bernadette, and I am very fond of that kind of drama and plot line. Stay tuned for an upcoming book review.

Becoming by Michelle Obama- Did this one really need an introduction? no. But I’m reading a big girl book written by America’s queen, and I really needed to flaunt that in your faces.


Still Woozy: He’s got some great tunes behind the name and popularity from his single, Goodie Bag. All of his music, though few in numbers, is chill but also cool as hell. I’m really bad at describing music, but– take my word for it– he’s on the up and up.

Briston Maroney: Remember that guy from American Idol season 13? it’s okay if you don’t. However his stardom began or didn’t, he’s been releasing some great jams. Personal favorites of mine include Hard to Tell, Freaking Out On the Interstate, and Rose.

Laundry Day: I’ve been really obsessed with their song, Jane, but I also can hit shuffle on either of their two albums and find myself in a trance. Very romantic, very cool (do you see why I need that daily dictionary?)


My Barnes and Noble Membership- Have you ever gotten really stressed out in a completely non-stressful situation? Found yourself signing away an annual $25 to a large corporation that you’re supposed to be against in order to shop local and support small businesses? But because of the 30 person deep line of angry elves who also didn’t finish their holiday shopping on time, you are hyper aware of the time that you’re taking up and suddenly you say “sure” to something you’re very unsure about? and the woman behind the counter is beaming while packing away your 12 new purchases into a swag bag (which let’s be real, how swag can a bag from Barnes and Noble be?), and you realize you just became a member to Barnes and Noble? Now I feel played.

The Atlantic- In my Barnes and Noble expedition (no, it’s not an exaggeration if you walked away with a swag bag), I grabbed a copy of the winter edition of The Atlantic because why the heck not at that point? There was an article about why we, as Americans, get so damn pissed off. I thought it was insightful, and also terrifying. It broke down the timeline of anger in America, which I didn’t even know could be calculated and fit into time slots, but hey, I also didn’t know I could sign away my life rights to B&N–ok. that was dramatic, and I’m realizing that I’m really milking this whole membership thing. The point is that the article was thorough and made some real sense. Check it out here if you’re also scared of the kind of person America is becoming.


(This is a new section I’d like to call “the devil’s avocado” because I’m so not the person to be asking these questions, but I’m also super curious about them and should just educate myself… so rather I should call this, “things I need to educate myself on.”)

In the argument of sustainable fashion, are we for or against faux fur? If synthetic fur is not good for our planet, how can we please both sides of that dispute?

Is there a real stigma toward calling oneself a feminist? If so, is it based on the fear of being associated with female domination? and if that is true, are we actually scared of letting women dominate? Or are we scared of being men-haters? On that note, why haven’t we moved past this false image of men-hating feminism?

Are we all narcissists when it comes down to definitions? Because we are introspective through our personal psyches, is our self awareness being confused with narcissism? If so, aren’t we all self absorbed due to our innate perspective? Or are we just really obsessed with labeling people as narcissists?

–This is where I draw the line because maybe I’m just a narcissist who is making excuses with technicalities.

Sorry again for the separation anxiety. I truly enjoy this platform, and I hope I can keep writing for you and for me.

Thanks for reading,




2018, notes

i’m the queen of france

Processed with VSCO with e1 preset

hey there good lookin’

You may be saying to yourself, “wow! it has been some time! does she own a calendar? watch? any outlet for time and organization? who is she?” and you would be correct, my friends. It has been some time.

These last eight weeks I’ve been manifesting in the French Riviera: laying on the beach, drinking very cheap rosé and eating expensive ravioli that I simply do not have the funds for (hence the cheap wine: it’s called balance). This lifestyle has been so hard to become accustomed to (she makes jokes too!).

On a real note, I’ve been studying abroad in Cannes, France for the past two months, and between classes, beach trips, weekend excursions, and being on island time pretty much all the time, I’d like to believe that I’ve grown a lot as a person. These experiences, people, conversations and occasional late night crêpe runs have vastly changed my perspective on a lot. Here’s where I cut myself off because I’m not trying to be the basic girl who goes to study abroad for one summer and thinks that she’s suddenly Ghandi. I know I’m not an intellectual now.

All in all, I’m thankful for this experience.

Now that you know a bit about my hiatus, thanks for still stickin’ around,






2018, notes

slowest reader award

About a year ago after finishing Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s honest yet loving novel, “Americanah,” I was on a mission to find a like-minded author whose work could illustrate a part of America that I was keen on better understanding: immigration. I found said-detail in Imbolo Mbue’s “Behold The Dreamers,” which takes place in early the 2000s and New York City.

A disclaimer that I find necessary to add, before I state my opinion and summary of the book, is that with this novel I found a problem that too often I put it down, sometimes for weeks or months at a time. Although I was heavily interested in the story, I neglected to afford the time for it. Alas, a year has gone by, and today I finished it. I felt like that was important to admit. Now you’re up to speed.

The story takes you through the perspective of its two main characters, Jende and Neni, husband and wife, as they live through a chain of events. By doing so with each chapter, it creates a personal voice for the two. They are not just names that help keep the story organized, but rather they are people whom readers can recognize just by flow of verbiage. (I know that I may seem ramble-y when talking about this aspect of the novel, but throughout my reading career I’ve grown a specific liking to authors that use this device to their advantage. Emma Straub does a great job at personalizing her characters with this system, and Adichie used it as well in “Americanah.”)

Aside from an analysis on the quality of writing and character building, I also enjoyed it for its honest telling of a reality that many suffer as immigrants in our country. There is the classic representation of America being a symbol for freedom and opportunity, while also present is the harsh truth that the grass may just seem greener on the other side.

I cannot put to words the highlights of the story without doing it an injustice, plus it took me a scattered year of corner folding to finally complete it. All that I can say is my own opinion, which is that it truly enlightened me on a part of America I’ve never been involved with or even fully aware of its realities. It awakened the same spirit that was brought about from “Americanah.” And while I feel naïve and ignorant for my previous neglect of America’s insufficient immigration system, I also feel empowered to do what I can with this information and opportunity. With that being said, I trust that you’ll read it yourself, and maybe you’ll find a new understanding for the Dreamers as well.

Thanks for reading,



2018, music

a band with red skates is my kind of band.

“Another music post, when will she stop?” No time soon I’m afraid to admit– not really though.

I first heard Kid Bloom last summer when I was in New York. I think I was surfing the related artists tabs of some low-key bands on Spotify when I came across this one.

Not sure if it was their title, Kid Bloom, or the fact that the cover photo of their album, A Different State of Mind, had a pair of glittery red skates that made me feel young at heart, but I became hooked to a few of their tracks that to this day have been made stationary to my playlist–a royalty I’ve only given to a few bands.

The story isn’t that long of how I became a fan, and honestly I’ve dragged it out too far at this point.

Where to begin? For one, I’m attracted to their sound for many reasons past the red skates. Their music is carried by the homogeneity of an 80s-like-tune that is fluid throughout the album as if each song was meant to be tied-at-the-hip with the next to avoid disturbing the cadence. The energy is contagious.

My Favorite Tracks Include:

Electric U– probably my proudest find in my music scavenger hunt career, is that a thing? probably not.

I Kissed a Girl, and She Kissed Me– really good bop if you ask me, just enough vocal with plenty of range for a dance party hit.

Hazy Miss Daisy– nothing screams ‘driving nowhere for no reason but to finish out a song’ like this one.

More Than Meets The Eye– unashamed of the amount of times bystander drivers have witnessed me dancing in my car to this one.

Parents House– newest release. I predict this will be my song of summer 2018. I know the race is starting early, but I’ve got a good feeling about this one.

Give them a chance, listen to some of the songs I mentioned or venture out and press shuffle! go crazy!

Here’s to summer music and feeling like I should go for the red skates.

Thanks for reading,



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