today i had this terrifying dream that someone found this blog. that someone found this blog and shared my secrets with the world.

which is dumb because my secrets aren’t secrets. my thoughts are the secrets about them, i guess. i’m okay with people knowing everything as long as they don’t know how i feel about it.

i don’t like to hurt people. i don’t like to make people sad. and i don’t like for people to pity me.

slightly irrelevant, but i also hate when people are insincere. which is why i actually hate the idea of blogs. the idea of people writing things so that other people will be impressed by the things that they are writing. so that other people will think that the person who wrote the blog is a) smarter b) more hip c) more christian d) a better all around human or e) funny.

people aren’t raw. people are too afraid. i am, too, i think. i tweet the things that pop into my head then people tell me i’m hilarious. i don’t take compliments well. i wish i did.

i’m also a big fan of ‘intellectual property.’ not because i’m selfish, but because i would much rather someone think of something hilarious or interesting themselves. i’m constantly looking for funny things. but then i tell other people those funny things with the credit given.

for example, my friend retweeted another friend who made this lame joke about not telling the olive garden waiter to ‘stop’ grating the cheese and everyone drowned in parmesan. she tweeted the joke about a month later. now, i wasn’t mad at her because i wasn’t the funny one here. but, the fact remained that she tweeted it because she knew she would get retweets and favorites. it was a good joke.

my generation is so hard-wired to look to be the most successful. we strive to be the best, the most noticed, the smartest, the funniest, the -est. we don’t do well as second best or unsuccessful.

i think there’s something beautiful about people not being good at stuff. and not in the super “i’m a great christian find your identity in Christ” way. although you should totally do that. but sometimes it’s good to just be satisfied in being yourself. which is cliche but so effing true.

i hope someone does stumble across this blog but just so they can read it and realize that sucking at something is part of life. it’s like when i tell people i’m not doing well in a class or that i’m not good at tennis. i don’t tell them because i want pity, or because i’m actually good and want affirmation. i’m not doing well. i’m actually bad at tennis. i think it’s funny. don’t get me wrong, i am very  competitive. but i also know when it would be dumb to be hard on myself for losing or getting second or third or whatever.

we live in a world where everyone is great. and self-advocacy or self-affirmation is encouraged. and, while i’m a huge advocate for self-advocacy, it’s important that we realize that we need to take care of others, too. it’s not all about us. we aren’t all the best. i told one of my co-workers i’m not a fan of the participation trophy. she looked shocked. “but they need to know that it was a good effort!” then tell them. tell them “hey, kid, good try. you can always do better.” the best people aren’t the best because they had a good effort. they give their best. top athletes don’t rest at the top. they continue. same with theologians and scientists and filmographers and composers and engineers and idk. we have to remember that for some people to be extraordinary, we need the ordinary. and it’s a beautiful place.

don’t change yourself to be cool. or hip. or funny. or smart. be you. seriously. i mean, come on. it’s so much easier!

if everyone’s super, no one will be.



coughing is stupid.

isn’t that profound? coughing sucks. right now, i cough if i breathe too deeply. or i cough at random moments. it’s like my throat is constantly dry. it’s like i have cereal dust in my throat (only bc i don’t want to think of swallowing saw dust).

i miss having my mom here to fix things like this. okay, well, my mom always believed me when i feigned sick. i miss my dad actually knowing how to cure it. i miss it a lot. i miss my dad. even when i didn’t have my dad, i at least had jacob who i could call and he would tell me what to do or listen to me cough and apologize and sometimes he would come and just love me.

being loved is so great, you know? having someone who just wants to snuggle with you and cuddle and pet your hair and make fun of you but kiss you in the same sentence. and someone who knows your favorite sonic drink and favorite shampoo and favorite vegetable and your birthday but that you hate half birthdays but always want someone to celebrate yours anyway. and that you hate surprises but only when you know they’re coming. and that you’re a sucker for full names and no nicknames. who makes fun of you for liking regular cheerios but still buys them instead. who lets you tell pun jokes and just bad jokes and still pity laughs. someone who knows your favorite song even when you don’t know. someone who will watch harry potter with you and judge you 0% when you can quote…all of it. that person who lets you tell them facts and correct them because he knows you only do it because you think he’d like to know. someone who corrects you back because you would like to know. someone who can spend hours talking about the bible and modern literature and ideas and love. someone who can still enjoy really simple things like bubbles. and knows how to do cool things like skateboard while i rollerblade.

jacob is so important. i don’t understand. he is. it’s just like. we’re in different places. we’ve always been in different places. for years i wanted to be where he was, then it flip-flopped and now it’s non-existent. and now we’re just. we’re just just.

i don’t have that person. and it’s not that he was my person. but the fact that he was that person for so long. this is getting annoying and whiny. this is why i hate blogging. this is why i hate diaries. i only ever talk about the things that i don’t actually talk about. and it’s all dumb. stupid stuff that doesn’t matter.

but doesn’t it matter? i’m a twenty-year-old girl with emotions and i don’t know how to date boys anymore because one perfectly imperfect boy ruined me. yeah, he was last on the list but does that matter? it’s a relatively short list, but i suppose that’s his fault isn’t it. but it’s not his fault? it’s not anyone’s fault. it was a relationship. a rocky one. a rough one. a beautiful one. one that taught me so much. i learned all about what i should find and what i shouldn’t. but now, of course, i have no idea how to maintain an easy perfect relationship.

things i shouldn’t do: watch gilmore girls. my emotions are so tangled up in their lives i have no idea.

no my heart is breaking and it is in all lowercase because my heart is broken and i cannot function and i do not know what to do and i cannot function. redundant or used for intensity? you may decide. lorelai and luke are both so great but in different ways. except for that lorelai is the worst because she is the worst. luke is so great. he is perfect. wait but christopher is also perfect. but only because he is a puppy. christopher only ever does anything because he thinks it’s the right thing and he wants everyone to be happy but doesn’t know how and he always needs your help figuring it out. luke is perfect because he loves so hard but doesn’t know how to show it so he doesn’t ever do anything because he’s too nervous about pulling a christopher and doing the wrong thing. and luke never needs you. except for that he does.

sorry. i shouldn’t watch gilmore girls. it makes me introspective. esp. dating.

jacob was perfect. jacob is perfect. i am so thankful for him.



he called again. just like he always calls. casually. out of the blue. at the wrong time. with the wrong intentions. without regard for my mental state.

but that’s also how he lives. that’s also how he shows up. that’s also how he plans his vacations, our dates, his classes, his life. this is how he functions. it’s something that i don’t get. it’s something that i can’t understand and something that i don’t like.

he’s like a poltergeist. an annoying, yet endearing, poltergeist who only shows up when i don’t expect it and, usually, when i don’t need it. he doesn’t come when i ask, he comes when i’m too busy. he doesn’t come when i need him, he comes when i’ve had a rough week. he doesn’t come when he promises, he comes when i tell him not to. but those are also the times that i need him the most. those are also the times when i just want to be held by someone who gets me. by someone who loves me. when i just want to feel safe.

but, he’s almost like a beautiful dream that comes by only when i am not trying to dream it. and, when i wake up, it takes too long for it to come back. that’s him. i’d like to write about us. i’d like to write about how i don’t understand. i’d like to write as a warning to girls that he’s not what you want.

today, in tennis, i told one of the girls who was struggling to make a serve tricks on how to serve. she took them and made it in. i went to serve, and double-faulted over and over. i laughingly told her that i couldn’t take my own advice. and it’s true. not just in tennis, but also in life. i’m potentially the best advice-giver but only due to hindsight being 20/20. my immediate judgment is sub-par to say the least.

and, the truth is, he is the kind of guy you’d want. he’s smart, funny, intelligent (somehow, i feel like this is different than smart), witty, sarcastic, athletic, musically talented, tall, handsome, fun. he’s a good kisser. he can play the drums. he skateboards, but isn’t necessarily a hooligan. he doesn’t have any tattoos and only pierced his left ear. and he’s been working on his mustache all summer long. oh, and his favorite band will always be tears for fears.

he’s unafraid. he doesn’t care what people think about him. he is strong. he feels safe. he is familiar. he has that soft, ruffly kind of hair. his effing smirk. oh my god. he has this smirk that literally makes my whole body just flame on, ja feel? his skin is always tan and his arm hair always blond. he’s hygienic. he dresses well. he has a job. he thinks about the community. he understands greek life. he loves jesus. he pays me compliments. he sends me “sweet dreams” texts because he knows that’s what gets me.

but he’s insecure. he doesn’t care what strangers think, but he cares who i talk to. let’s call that insecurity jealousy. he’s loud. he gets intoxicated pretty regularly. he’s dealt in marijuana (dealt as in purchased, not dealing). he’s hit harder drugs. he parties. he makes me feel like shit. he calls me names that he knows get me. he listens to my struggles and he uses them against me. he barricades me from my friends. he doesn’t want to meet my friends. his whole body is so tempting. which sounds way too sensual, but it’s the truth. he’s far away. he leaves me. he doesn’t come. he expects us to be in different places. he shook me so hard and held my arms so tight i had bruises. he left me alone. he’s jealous. so jealous. he needs me to watch out for him. but i need to watch out for him. he needs me and i need that. i need to feel needed.

he’s such a huge part of my life and, yet, almost nonexistent. he’s a ghost. even when i have him, he could slip away. he’s never really there. he’s never completely in my life. he’s so important. he’s so present. he is so not here. he’s not at baylor. not in waco. he’s been in pennsylvania for so long. it’s like i’m talking to someone who i don’t even know.

don’t get me wrong, i love to kiss. i love to be held. i effing love a good make out session. it’s fun. kissing is fun. i having his hands on me and my hands on him. i like the feel of his back. and of his chest. i like him. but, i don’t always get that. and it’s not enough. it’s not enough for him to show up once in a blue moon with a bottle of whisky and a new CD.

it’s not enough.

i’ve been doing the enneagram and i’m a seven. sevens are optimistic to a fault. today, a friend reminded me that that optimism applies to dating. and i realized that for every time i’ve told someone “jealousy is bad. he’s not good for you. he’s not even around.” i haven’t taken my advice.

we broke up almost two years ago this new year’s. two years. and what have i done with my life? nothing.

he’s dated. he’s fallen in love. he’s been denied. he’s tried.

i’ve done nothing.

it’s like, because we dated from apart for so long, i don’t know how to date. i don’t know how to flirt. i’m so used to saying “haha, no.” or shutting it down or immediately friendzoning every boy i meet because i had a boyfriend. and not a boyfriend who was there to say “that’s my girl.” but a boyfriend who never knew where i was and i never knew where he was. it was separate, but we always had something to talk about.

i thought it was perfect, because so many couples break up because they spend too much time together. we stayed together because we always had something to say, something new. we never tired of each other. we didn’t text constantly, or anything. it was almost a courtship.

but there was too much give. i helped him through addiction after addiction. i forgave him when we were “on break” and he hooked up with another girl. i forgave him when he went too far. i forgave him when he shook me. i forgave him when he called my friends. i forgave him when he yelled at them. i forgave him when he was jealous of my best friend.

i forgave him.

but i shouldn’t have. i realized that i was addicted to him. i was addicted to the abuse. i was addicted to being his mother figure. i was addicted to him. and i kind of still am. he’s the kind of boy you can relapse into. while i was helping him with his addictions, he was pulling me into him. he knows when you need him the most and he knows when you’ve almost broken your habit. he knows.

he called again today. he asked me about my brother’s play. he asked me about my classwork. he asked me about my little sister. he asked me about my ymt. he asked me about my residents. and, what sucks the most, is that he cares. it’s not like he asks these things to impress me. he asks because he cares. just like i ask about his little brother. how i ask about his dad. i ask if he’s visited his mother’s grave. i ask if he’s dating anyone new. i ask about his new job. i ask about his old friends. i ask about everything. it’s weird to think that he was the same age as i am right now when we were dating.

when he proposed, it didn’t make sense to me. why would he think that we were ready? why? he was a junior. and i’m realized how much of a step that is from where it was.

he asked me if i was dating anyone. he apologized for ruining dating for me (to which i replied with a lizzie mcguire-esque offended sound). he apologized for everything he always apologizes for.

he asked me about a boy.

jace asked me about a different boy. jace asked me if i liked a boy. this is different. he knows something. he knows me better than anyone else. like he’s an extension of myself in a way. he knows me better than anyone i’ve ever known. and he thinks i like this boy that i don’t like. but the thing about jace is that i always believe him.

that bastard.


today was november fourth. mid-term elections.

last semester, my american constitutional development professor told our class that it wouldn’t matter if we were to vote in texas. he told us it wouldn’t matter if we voted in any state other than swing states. i wrote him a letter telling him that it was our civic duty to vote. to provide accountability for our government. to vote even in small, local elections. he ‘apologized’ next class, but stood behind his statements. he laughed my words off saying ‘we can waste our time if we wished to.’

today, dr. bridges was proven wrong. today, every vote matter. republicans slew the democrats in the senate. greg abbott won the gubernatorial race in a landslide over wendy davis. it has been said that the clock was set back forty years here in texas. it has been said that we are too close-minded. it has been said that we don’t realize what being conservative means for the rights of women.

do they think that i would be okay with my rights being compromised? it is hypocritical to fight for the right to my body and my choice and a lack of governmental intervention with those choices, yet force the government to pay for the outcome of my choices: free birth control and free abortions. wendy davis ran on a one-note platform focused solely on the “rights of women.” this wasn’t enough. she had to look at the economy, border control, gun rights, etc. to win in texas. it’s not enough to have passionate backers on one issue. especially one so opposed in her state.

mostly, i don’t understand the hypocrisy of the liberal agenda. conservatives are consistently chastised for being too blunt or heartless, but this is only because conservatives say what they mean. liberals attempt to make everything perfect but, in turn, become hypocrites and fight battles against their own words.

i’ve already touched on one of these, but, to further it, forced maternity/paternity leave. in an attempt to equalize the system for single parents as opposed to two-parent homes, the liberal agenda includes the idea that every mother is required to go on maternity leave and, after the birth, paternity leave. However, there are many men and women who would be willing to work regardless of their single-parent status. The federally enforced leave would violate the right of a person to choose. Isn’t that what the pro-choice movement is all about?

this blog has no real point. but none of them do. this is for my thoughts. my ramblings. my need to express myself without backlash of the people who follow me on Twitter. I have friends who believe the cool option is the democratic option. They know that’s the ‘hip’ option. But, so is atheism or buddhism or really anything but christianity.

for me, christianity is hip. conservatism is cool. everything i am is the opposite of what is supposed to be cool. everything i stand for, believe in, it’s all wrong by today’s standards. the claim is that republicans are not accepting of liberals. that we don’t listen to their plight and that we are close-minded. this is far from the truth. i have listened. i have thought. and i understand. yet, i believe differently. and i believe that my beliefs should also be accepted. neither side is “right” and neither side is “wrong.”

but, today, i am able to smile. today, the nation realized that they made a mistake in 2008 and in 2012. these elections mark a turning point. an important one. one where we, the conservatives, are able to prove that we aren’t close-minded, we are morally stable and have steadfast beliefs. we are able to prove that we can love people who are different. we can realize that we aren’t to judge, lest we be judged. we can prove that being  a conservative doesn’t mean your heart is made of ice.

we have #hope for #change, but not a change in our beliefs. a change in how we allow ourselves to be perceived. a change to allow the left-wing to realize what we mean and listen to our plight.

we can do it.


help. i have eight papers due in the next eight days. not a paper a day, which is also terrifying. but help.

and it’s homecoming week. which i love, but it’s also incredibly stressful.

okay. i’m just going to practice breathing and sleeping and other normal person things.

i’m going to die.

why do we need to shower? so inconvenient. and food? ugh. and sleep? THE WORST.

can i audit everything? plz?


i’ve been told to begin a blog.

yet, i can never bring myself to do so, especially given the pressure that comes with it. i’ve cultivated an image for myself of being quippy and funny on twitter. people expect anything to come out of my mouth, or rather from my fingertips, to make them laugh. and i enjoy facilitating this.

if i could make everyone in the world do one thing, it would be to laugh. and not a pity laugh, a laugh from your gut that makes you question whether or not you had ever found anything quite so funny. but i want to inspire people. i want to hide nuggets of inspiration among my jokes and stories of humiliation. i want people to take me seriously.

i forget, too, that it isn’t that i want them to laugh because of anything i say. i want them to laugh because they are happy. i want them to laugh because they love what they are doing. i want everyone to enjoy themselves. people so often forget how important life is! how beautiful it is! have you ever just sat there in the middle of an entirely boring class and realized that you are so grateful for the experience? or when you have to do a grueling task, are you thankful for the bonding you get with those roped into the same task?

mandatory events are sometimes my favorite. i get to meet the people i never get to meet under the pretense of hating having to attend! how fantastic is that?! karl marx wrote an entire manifesto on the working class and how important it is in society and it’s true: if there were no tasks to hate, what would people have to join them together?

think of the friends you make staying up late doing a project or the ones you meet working on a homecoming float at 2 AM. we would have nothing in common, or never realize that we did, were it not for that commiseration.

i like to think that i have thoughts worth sharing, and not small anecdotes or blurbs, but real thoughts. ones that must see the light of day. i like to think that somewhere, someone cares about my two bits. i like to think that someone understands my need to throw casual jokes in the middle of a sad moment or a serious moment. i like to think someone understands that, when happiness could be an option for anyone, i will work to get that for them.

so, i begin a blog. a restless night blog. a blog for me myself and i. a blog where my mind is able to be spoken without feeling the need to cater to my followers. that is to say, i have no followers. and, frankly, i like it this way.

i tried to think of a non-pretentious way to sign off and only found obnoxious ways. also, my initials are all top half, so i am uneasy using those. i am moving for simplicity.