a word about words

I found this article from NYTimes on Facebook about the words men and women use when talking about love and when getting published talking about love.

I’ve spent hours looking at the graphs, reading submissions, and googling mentions. It’s worth a read.

Here’s the link.




an opinion piece

“I am eighteen years old. I am a female college freshman. I am naive, energetic, and absolutely obsessed with boys.

When I moved to college, I understood the stigmas everyone warned me about: binge drinking, the freshman fifteen, failing class, never calling home. But one aspect in which I felt utterly unprepared for was the hookup culture, the casual sex that permeates my campus and, now, my life. No alcohol awareness course, gym schedule, monogrammed agenda, or homesickness remedy could ready me for what sex means in college in 2017. I started having “just because” sex, meaningless and unattached hookups, in my first week of classes and now, on the airplane home for fall break, I feel such a need to reflect on my newfound sex life that I’m typing on the notes app of my iPhone, which is at a meager 20%. My laptop, my preferred utensil, is dead, and I don’t have my other preferred utensil, paper.

I am torn on how I feel about my newfound sexuality. On one hand, I feel free. My ability and choice to sleep with attractive boys and men is a slap in the face to the friend who called me “eternally alone” or the boys who joked that I was too prude in high school. It’s interesting to me that this is perhaps what makes me the most satisfied of all of my encounters, yet the people back home who teased me about my lack of sexual experience have no idea where I sleep or who with. Casual sex makes me feel more desirable. A boy finds me hot and normal enough to have sex with for release and fun. I like being that quick fix. Beyond that, though, sex is another layer of independence. Just like I can drink, smoke, or wear anything I’d like to now, I can hook up with anyone I want, at virtually any time I want, as long as he’s interested and consented. Such an instantaneous connection, which, unsurprisingly, fits my generation’s need for urgency and availability, to the most intimate connection, fills me with a sense of power that I never had before move-in. And power is a factor too. The longstanding argument that sex is power and power is sex comes to mind. There is a thrill in having so much control over a boy just because we’re having sex or have had it already. I have learned how to master men, even if just for a minute or two of pure bliss, when, four months ago, their flippant comments and idiotic actions mastered me.

Of course, boys still can rule my emotions and my actions. I just know how to take my mind off those feelings for a quick hookup or night away from my own bed. Now that I know how much they’ll sacrifice for sex, though, I feel even more convinced that boys of my generation are never going to be the men I want them to grow up to be. I don’t need to be even more disheartened about finding a soulmate in s country where the divorce rate hovers around 50%. I swell with the pride and satisfaction of having such power over a man while or after we have sex, but I also often feel powerless. All a boy might want me for is sex, and I can give that to him, but I can’t give him a desire to date me or spend time with me outside the bedroom. There’s also the backwards concept of having sex partially just to spite the people, male and female, who once mocked me for not doing it. I should be having sex for me, not for anyone else, and I am, but I’m thinking about those naysayers a little bit every time I collect my things from the latest dorm tile or fraternity house carpet. And I do feel sexy and wanted because guys want to have sex with me, but, at the same time, being the girl they depend on for a no strings attached lay and not the one they bring home on breaks with them tanks my self-esteem. It can be frustrating to only see someone I find hot or otherwise attractive in some way when they’re drunk, lonely, or simply bored.

Yet I have a roster of guys I find myself texting to hang out with when I’m drunk, lonely, or simply bored. I am used, and I use them.

This is sex in college today, and it is full of contradictions; fulfillment and emptiness, power and helplessness, brightness and bleakness, independence and entrapment. It is a sizable part of my life on campus, and it is what keeps me up at night… in more ways than one.”




I’m back. Resurrected, risen, returned.

Did the whole move six states away thing, and damn, it was hard.

If you know me, though, you know I don’t give up. Ever. So I’m determined that this was meant to be and adjusting is just hard, but I really do think I am supposed to be here. I get better every day and I feel more and more like myself too.

I’d be writing all weekend if I were to use real form and posts, so, just for my own memory, I’m listing all the major life updates I’ve had since my last post.

  • I had sex with a TC, I, on September 16 at like 1am. Drunk, but not blacked out.
  • I then proceeded to also fuck a PDT, N, on the night of the 21. Well, it was probably early on the 22nd if I’m being honest.
  • My beautiful and sweet 88 year old grandmother, affectionately known as Mimi, passed away in the first week of August. I had to move on the 9th, and between that and other family travel complications, I moved per usual. Then, on the weekend of the 26th, I went back home for the services. It was lovely and filled with family, as she would’ve wanted, but I still miss her dearly.
  • On the 19th I had a sort of episode and flipped out on my brother’s girlfriend, who fucked me over severely, which resulted in me finding a therapist ASAP down here.
  • I found one, Dr. B, and he is possibly the sweetest person I know. I love him and his advice and couldn’t believe I had been missing out on therapy for so long.
  • Because I haven’t been in the best state since moving, I sense that my parents are worried about me and are afraid to make another major life change by divorcing. They continue to lead the same separate lives, like ships passing in the night.
  • I have a deadline of apologizing to my brother’s girlfriend by this Friday, and I haven’t done so yet. Or spoken to her since the 18th of August.
  • A guy who fucked me over at home, MM, texted me today asking if he could see me. HA. No, but it feels good to know that I’m *finally* desirable, ya know? And he’s rushing SC, SN, and KS. We’ll see.
  • I miss home so much. More than I thought I would.
  • I’m trying really hard to do well in school but also sleep and have a social life. So that’s basically just what I’m doing now.

Alright, I have to go. Saturdays in the South… if you know, you know. I’ve missed you, though, and I’ll be back soon.




nytimes’s making relationships tidy

If there are any two things I love, this NYTimes pieceNYTimes piece by Helen Ellis covers both: neatness and analyzing love.

I loved the analysis, the point, and the anecdotes. How many times do we deteriorate our relationships with people because we aren’t willing to change, even just a little?

I’m a believer that people don’t change, but I think that applies in more of a big picture sense. In the day-to-day, why not try making the tiny change someone you care about asked you to? I just love learning and reading about relationships, and I had to share what I thought was an interesting little tidbit about Ellis’s own.

And yeah, I’m back. Six months later and I’m still a little fractured, but the words are flowing freely even after all this time. Really, though, it barely feels like a blink.

I don’t know if I’m back for good or not. Time will tell. We’re about to dive headfirst into a huge life change, a moving-six-states-away kind of shift.



funny sayings

“A good story is like a miniskirt- long enough to cover the subject but short enough to keep some interest.”

“I’m sweating like a whore in church.”

“That girl looks like she could suck a golf ball out of a hose pipe.”

“Come hell or high water…”

“Nothing is open past midnight besides legs and bars.”

I kind of had the worst weekend, so I wanted to share some of these funny little sayings. Some of them are mine, some of them are my family’s, and some of them are my friends’.

Can you tell I learned the third one from my older brother’s old fraternity brothers? I can.





we love you f

NOTE: I wrote this from about 11:30p p.m. on Wednesday, January 25th until I published it, but at that point it was 12:00 a.m. Of course. So this published the 26th, but all of these events happened on the 25th and that’s when I intended to hit publish.

Today was probably one of the saddest days of my life next to the day my mother ruined my childhood.

We put one of our dogs, F, down tonight. We found out literally yesterday that he had malignant cancer of the blood with several tumors on the spleen, liver, and most likely lungs when he collapsed randomly at the park. Thirty-six hours later and we were saying goodbye.

The collapse happened on Tuesday, and we put him down today, a Wednesday. It was so sudden.

I am heartbroken. My parents, even my father, who hates animals, are heartbroken. We loved him so much- he was the first dog my brother and I ever had. It’s not fair that he was just ten. It feels like a blink of an eye, but he actually, as my brother put it, “had a front row seat to watching us grow up.” He saw us go from middle school to high school to college. He saw both of our grandfathers pass. He watched my parents start a business, sell it, switch careers, and define their own relationship. He saw our first dates and our first cars and was there when we first came home smashed as sixteen year-olds. He greeted all of us every.single.time. we walked in the door and begged for food even at his heaviest. He was my mother’s favorite child and the best big brother and best friend to our other dog, V. She’s going to miss him so much too.

Only the good die young. And apparently that’s true for dogs too. Please send some good vibes my family’s way.

We love you, F. Thanks for being the best first dog ever.



adulting = woat

Sorry for the radio silence. I’ve been working, getting back to class, and slipping into the routine. Oh, and I had a ~financial intervention~ for myself too.

I have been a shopper for as long as I can remember. I even wrote about shopping and its hold on me in 2015. Even then, when I had fewer bills and less expenses, I was struggling with spending because I wanted the emotional crutch of shopping, not necessarily the things I was buying.

To be honest, it’s two years later and I’m still learning that lesson. I think I’ve been a lot better about emotional shopping, but I still need to prioritize what I spend money on so I’m not depleting my bank account every time a bill is due.

My biggest lesson, though, is how fucking hard it is to pay back loans and extinguish financial mistakes. No amount seems that big until it’s what you actually owe. It sucks to be sat down and told, “you owe $__ by __/__/__.” I tried to pretend it wasn’t real for a few days, but now I’m just chipping away at it. Even though the increments by which I’m paying it off are ridiculously small, they’ll add up. Slow and steady wins the race.

However, I am making big strides too. With my new job this fall, I was able to supplement my income and reach a savings goal of mine. I also switched banks and got my first debit card and checking account. Those milestones, if you can call them that, are exciting and a relief all at once.

I just called reaching a savings goal exciting. Who am I?

Growing up sucks, everyone. Don’t do it.