the parent judgment.


If you’re not familiar with my blog or my current living situation, my parents have graciously allowed me to move back in with them while I search for a home. While I appreciate this, I’m slowly starting to lose my mind. I hit the one year mark last month and I’m itching to have my own space again. The home cooked meals and fresh laundry have been great, but I am never alone. And I love being alone. I feel you, Kevin McCallister.

One thing that has also gone to crap is my social life. It’s tough when you have a mom who asks 35 questions as you try to get out the door; ‘where are you doing, who is going to be there, what time will you be home‘.  This is usually when I revert back to my teenage self and scream as I exit. I’m not proud of this.

However, what I wasn’t prepared for was the parent judgment on my lack of doing anything on the weekends. Just last night, my dad asked if I talked to anyone other than them. Ugh. My mom also questioned my super good cyber monday deal on a ps4 for $299 (right!?). ‘Do other 30 year olds play games‘ she asked all judgy toned. Ughh. Where’s the bell of shame?

Listen up roomies, I’ve hit a low point in my life by moving back in with you two, I don’t need you pointing that out on the frequent. Even my dad last year at Christmas after many drinks told me how sad it was I was there. Point taken.

Now excuse me as I storm off to my room to play video games. What year am I living in??


so thirty happened…


The urge to write has found me once again. Also, thirty happened. It came and went fairly quickly. The thing about thirty isn’t that it’s so bad, it’s that when you look back at your early twenties you had all of these big ideas, those lists of 30 before 30. And you know what, a lot of that won’t happen. And that’s completely ok.

Yes, you start to get annoyed by those saying thirty is just a number, but when you start to fully realize all of the things you’ve done so far, and the things you still want to do, the number seems a bit more manageable.

One thing that does bug me about being at this place in my life, is those who believe that because they’ve ‘accomplished‘ more they’re somehow above you. And by accomplish more, I mean they got married and had a family. Yes, those things are great…to that person. I’ve measured the accomplishments in my life by having a job I enjoy, traveling the world, and doing things that I want to do. That does not make me any more or less accomplished than someone else. Did I think I’d be in a different place by this age? Of course, who doesn’t. But, the important thing is that you’re happy where you’re at, and if you’re not, there is still time to make a few changes.

I turned thirty. The world isn’t over. I’ve got bigger things planned.

dear me…

The latest thing to be going around the web…do people even still call it the web? am I that old?…is #dearme. What would you tell your younger self? Younger me was a shy, strange girl who took some time to come out of her shell. And was a total weirdo. Seriously, weird, but I kept it on the down low because I was too worried about what others thought.

I would have told smaller me that it’s totally ok to be uber strange and eccentric. Having a different personality is much better than trying to fit the mold of everyone else. Also, don’t worry so much about what other people think. I know that one seems to come up for just about everybody, and it’s completely true. It’s much more ‘acceptable’ to try and fit in than stand out on your own. And most of the people who may give you crap for it, will become meaningless to you once you move on from middle school and high school. Surround yourself with amazing people, leave the rest behind because ya don’t need em.

I’d also tell myself to use more sunscreen, try to create a stupid game that could make you millions as an app one day, and attempt new things in college. College me definitely would have benefited from the knowledge I have now. Your friendships will become lifelong, and you’ll look forward to meeting up again and reminiscing about the good ole days. That dude that you were ‘in love’ with for years will turn out to be a bum that you never really liked anyway. Don’t waste time on stupid things, like said dude, or petty things, college is the best time to find yourself, who you truly are, and who you want to become. Hallmark card aside, everything you went through has made you into the person you are now.

Dear me, it’s been a good ride so far. Got a lifetime of knowledge.

What would you tell your younger self?



the 90s kids.


I was watching buzzfeed videos the other day, because what else would I do on my lunch break, and saw a comment on the 90s kids watching nickelodeon video that said: I was born in 1998, I’m in fact a 90s kid. No, child. Newborn you does not qualify as a 90s kid. People were really defensive about their year of birth and classification. I, too, am one of the 90s kids, a legit one, as I was born in the mid 80s. 90s nostalgia is a big thing right now, due in large part to buzzfeed’s constant posts. It was such an awesome time to be a kid, though I’m sure other generations make that claim as well.

Some highlights for me were, naturally, Nickelodeon and SNICK. Are You Afraid of the Dark was my jam as the creepy child that I was. R.L Lauren was what they called me in my seventh grade writing class because I would only write about death, ghosts, twins, and death. TGIF was the thing that got me through the day on Friday. If you can still sing all of the tv theme songs, you’re doing life right. I popped Flintstones vitamins daily. 10 million strong and growing, son. I dreamed of marrying Doogie Houser, MD, obviously that would have never panned out. The Sandlot, was and still is, my favorite movie of all time. Lisa Frank made all of my school materials as obnoxious as possible. Huggies were my drink of choice. And a majority of my time was spent playing boardgame greats like Dream Phone, Sorry, Mousetrap, and Crossfire…wait I never played Crossfire I just fondly remember the fiery commercial.

As much as the 00s kids try to claim the 90s, (the double o’s just do not have the same ring to it) by watching those old shows on youtube. It doesn’t count. You just had to be there. The visions you had of racing up the Aggro Crag. The plans you made for if one day you had the luxury of that shopping spree at toys ‘r us, you know you had it mapped out where exactly you would start first. The nervousness you had when playing MASH or paper fortune teller, I was never the one who could fold it correctly. Or the deepest tan you ever had in your life because you spent the entire summer playing outside ALL day long. That’s right. Outside. Like, nature minus a computer screen or internet. Shocking.

Everything just seemed better back then, probably because we didn’t have to be adults and do stuff, but still better. I guess it’s a good thing my mother threw absolutely NOTHING away, so if I ever wanted to go back my childhood, I just have to go down to my parent’s basement. My second grade journal is down there along with every single toy I ever owned. Seriously.

Funky buttloving. Yes, I just said funky buttloving.

the ones who peaked in high school.


Ever since I moved back to my hometown, I’ve noticed that not a lot of people have left. And there may be nothing wrong with that, but when said people seem to think they’re better than everyone else, that’s when I start to have a problem. You know, the ones who peaked in high school. The ones who still hang out in their cliques talking about everyone else. How sad.

I am most definitely not the same person I was when I was 15. Who would want to be? I had braces, was quiet but friendly, and had zero ‘cool’ status. I wasn’t bullied, I never talked about people behind their backs, and wasn’t really a troublemaker. Maybe that’s how I survived it all. If I had to compare myself to the hunger games, I would be that ginger who hid for the entire thing until food got the best of her. Lay low, avoid people, then go to college and become awesome…key life advice. You’re welcome.

If I were to go out to a local bar in town, I would most definitely run into a group of my former classmates. If they’re still talking about what happened in high school, then I truly feel sorry for them. It’s been fifteen years since we were freshman, FIFTEEN! Surely, more interesting things have happened to you in over a decade.

I also hope that people don’t recognize me. Like how Rachel Leigh Cook was magically transformed via glasses. But, really, why should we care what people from our past think of us now. We’ve moved on. We’ve done things. Yes, we can tell funny stories from the past, but we have so much more to tell. We have yet to peak.

Three finger salute, yall…or should it be one finger??

new year, old me…

Well, it’s the beginning of the end to my year of 29. The last year eight months before the ‘big milestone’ of turning thirty. Yup, it hurts to type it because it just seems so old. Especially to someone who considers herself at about a 25. There are things that I’ve done, want to do, and need to do before I enter another decade. Big adult things like buy a house, travel a bit, try different cuisines, get off tinder.

I suppose it shouldn’t be that big of a deal, 30. It’s just another year, it’s not like we can make it stop. We continue on. I’m healthy and happy so I shouldn’t complain, but then that 18 year old voice inside my head is saying ‘remember when you had a ‘plan’ that you would be married by 25 and have a kid and now your turning thirtyyyyy‘. Yea, girl, I remember. But, plans change. Life changes.

Despite the negativity, I’m thinking 30 could be a good time. I mean, I know who I am. I won’t have to deal with shallow people. I’ve ditched most of the ‘friends’ who were toxic. I can handle guys. I can be truthful without it sounding awful because I’m so old and wise now and have all of the answers. Ha. Ok, some of the answers.

I’ll make 30 look good, mostly because I’ll still get IDed at the liquor store. Not to mention I recently got my morning coffee from Tim Horton’s and the lid had a phone number on it.

Oh yea, still got it.


the id check.


Now that I’m way past the age of twenty-one, I’ve discovered that I thoroughly enjoy being asked for id when purchasing a cocktail…or seven. I used to get so annoyed at the nerve of someone to ask for id when I thought I was so above that. In reality, I looked like a sixteen year old that was ‘of age’. Which is hilarious because I used a chalked id back in college that said I was 23 while my face said 15 because it was the picture I took for my learner’s permit. Thank you, small town college bars.

But now, it’s a sense of pride that people still think I look young enough for the id check. I always hated when people would say ‘you’ll love it when you’re older’. I didn’t realize how quickly I would come to appreciate that line. Especially working at a college, I’m simultaneously trying to blend in the with the kids while being a professional assistant director (oh yea, I’ve got a title now).

Who knows how long we’ll be able to keep these baby faced looks up. The Walking Dead, anyone…Beth is played by an actress who is my age. Just had to throw that out there in case you’ve seen the mid-season finale (?!). I’d like to think that if I was an actress I could get away with playing a fifth year senior in high school.

Anyways, I now anticipate the moment when I’m asked for id, and secretly hope for a double-take by the bartender out of sheer disbelief that this ageless wonder stands in front of them.

Too much, or just enough?