Winsome….is not me this morning

If you have ever seen any movie ever, people wake up on a Saturday with beautiful curled hair and a full face of “natural makeup” so they can leave their viewers with the impression that they are just as aesthetically pleasing as they were when they went to bed. However, we all know this isn’t true.

I woke up this morning with hair stuck to the side of my face, some in my mouth even–apparently, I have a cold, so I am now a mouthbreather. I didn’t take off my makeup last night, so I’m lookin a little raccoon-like, but for some reason, I’m strangely confident in my appearance this morning. Despite the fact that I know I look a little rough, there is still a spark in my that says I can kick this day’s ass.

I know this might seem off topic of “winsome”, as it is mainly about things that are attractive in appearance, but my goal is to let people know that just because you might not wake up with a winsome glow and rosy red cheeks, doesn’t mean that you still can’t bask in the glory of a good night’s sleep.

No one looks good in the morning, unless you didn’t go to sleep. The absence of winsomeness=good sleep, or I least I hope so.


Here’s proof: You winsome, or you lose some (had to do it.)image

Go and live winsome lives, take pictures, and document even the unattractive moments, because in those moments, you gain something beautiful


via Daily Prompt: Winsome


Chapter 102


Despite the date that wasn’t a date, I decided to put myself out there, and then it felt wrong. So I waited a few weeks and decided I need to explore this new idea of self. Hence, the blog. Some of this will be narrative I suppose, and others will just be the exploration of the chapter that starts in the middle of my life and the middle of something that could end or grow.

It’s been just over two weeks at this point. I’ve been through the emotional ups and downs, the spurts of damn, I’m awesome, to holy s***, this sucks. It’s sometimes difficult to tell what kind of mood I’ll be in, how late I’ll sleep, or what horrible things I might say in the heat of the moment.

I go through these given mentalities that I deserve better and I should never have to ask someone to love me. That sounds desperate, but it does happen. I think it happens more than any of us really want to admit. I’ve spent three years trying to get someone to love me for exactly who I am, all the way down to my weird quirky habits to my fluctuating weight and insecurities.

I’m not saying I need someone to make those go away–the only person who can actually make your insecurities disappear is you and you alone–but it would be nice to know that someone loves you despite those insecurities. I shouldn’t be afraid to say I deserve what I want either. Arguably, that fear has kept me from actually going and getting what I want, which is stupid…but we all have to learn sometime, I suppose.

I’m learning many things as this “break” from each other progresses. First thing, I didn’t know nearly all I thought I did. I truly thought that love was supposed to be hard work, and it is, don’t get me wrong, but it shouldn’t be so hard that you constantly have to question whether or not someone actually loves you. Writing that and knowing that I’ve been doing that for the last couple years sounds almost pathetic and a little desperate.

I’m not an expert on love by any means, and if I was, I would call myself …The Guru of Hearts and Hard Work and start the hashtag, #makeloveyourbitch…but I’m not, and this is the truth.

The next thing I have learned is that I have no idea what I’m doing, nor what I should be doing. Yesterday I literally sat in my room all day, watched Netflix (Supernatural new season btw), and played The Sims…yeah, it happens…so what? That shit’s awesome. And just in case y’all are wondering if I have a job, I do. I’m a teacher, and I have summers off…what of it? (I also have two other jobs that follow me into summer).

I’m not sure if I should be dating others and actually seeking others, it just doesn’t feel right, like I feel like I’m cheating on him. But I also know that he told me he wonders what it would be like to go out on dates with other people…funny, considering we never really went on dates. Did I also mention that I got crazy for a moment and told him if I see anything on social media, we’re just done? Yeah, that happened. Like George Carlin (RIP) once said, “men are dumb, and women are crazy. Women are crazy because men are dumb”…obviously women and men can be both dumb and crazy, but I digress.

Snap, back to reality, woop, there goes gravity…I’m sitting in this cool coffee shop called Cape’s here in Des Moines, being awesome and writing an exceedingly long blog post on my relationship reflections. While there is much more to learn, much to discuss, and more happening, it’s cathartic to just get it all out in the open…Stay tuned for chapter 104.


Chapter 101

A couple days had passed, and a few tears that followed. I woke up and went about my day like a normal person, except I had a mission that I wasn’t going to sit around and feel sorry for myself, beside the fact that it just felt weird. Because even though he lives in another state, I felt a new sense of loneliness I hadn’t felt before.

I may have grown a little bitter, vindictive, and resentful because in my mind, sitting around meant that he won. But I also know that it’s not a competition, or a true breakup, despite the fact that it truly feels like one.

Lucky for me, I had plans with my best friend to go out on the town and enjoy some of the new local places that just opened. My version of not feeling sorry for myself was to make myself look irresistible, fun, and full of life. I put on my shortest dress (with class, of course), and strapped on my favorite heals, curled my hair and wore a bright shade of pink on my lips; I was ready to go.

Walking into the bar, I spotted almost no one, which was weird for happy hour on a Saturday night. Shelby was still on her way, so I sat at the bar and struck up a conversation with some of the handsome bartenders. *Side note: If he was lonely and wanted to go out on dates, then all be damned if I wasn’t.

Shelby strode in, but I was having pleasant conversations with the gentleman serving me, so having her there was a delightful bonus. Soon, though, the conversation shifted from the four of us to just us two. I broke the news that we had decided to take a break, and despite the fact that I know she doesn’t like him, she was rather sympathetic.

The night passed, and the drinks flowed. Apparently they flowed enough for me to feel that idle confidence that hadn’t been seen in a while, and I left my name and number on the coaster for him.

I had hoped he would text, but I didn’t. In reality, I wasn’t ready for him to, but knowing that I had, albeit a few days later, the balls to do something I hadn’t done in over three years.

He called, and we went out. Nothing to it. We didn’t touch, hug, or even kiss. It was nice to talk to someone, have them listen, and show a genuine interest in my life, but it wasn’t what I really wanted at that time.

We said we would do it again, but I think we both knew that we wouldn’t. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t right.


Chapter 1…or 100. I don’t actually know

Just like any other day, I felt like things weren’t working out. I also thought that maybe it was my fault that it wasn’t working out. To combat this ugly feeling, I got on my phone and sent the text that would change things for me. Maybe for the better, maybe not. Who knows.

Because I’m generally a supportive person who can sometimes just be a little selfish, I wanted to offer my heart, my patience, and of course my support to him on his new journey. Little did I know, or maybe I did, that it would spark the conversation of “this isn’t working”, “I’m lonely, and I know you are too, and it isn’t fair to you for me to be feeling this way without you knowing”, and “I think we need to take a break”. Oof. Three years, several moves (none of which were actually together), and a lot of me fighting for a relationship, seeing a future, and being so excited for it, all led to this moment.

It also led to me sitting on the floor of the gym in an area where no one goes besides a few stragglers, crying and trying to understand what went wrong, or how this whole thing happened.

Anger and sadness crept in simultaneously, per usual, as I can imagine that it should, given a situation like this.

Our conversation went back and forth between me telling him he was foolish, how I truly have felt, and asking a question that I honestly thought I already knew the answer to: “are you in love with me?” Maybe I shouldn’t have asked, who knows. The sad part is…he said, “yes…I think so?” like he was questioning himself.

Damn. That stung. Like a slap in the face you couldn’t see, it actually happened. Something I think I’ve known for a while, but have never really been able to admit to myself. I’m not sure which is worse. If I think about it, it’s almost pathetic. No one likes to admit that someone isn’t in love with them. Even when that’s all they wanted. Especially when that’s all they wanted.

Not giving an answer, I kept arguing, told him not to talk to me, and ended the phone call–after an hour sitting on the floor, which I didn’t have to do. That was dumb– I walked to my car, got in, and per usual, cried. I told him I didn’t want to talk, spent the rest of the night not sleeping, and went to my friend’s the next day.

It wasn’t until later that day that I finally just got pissed off enough to tell him to take his goddamn break, but I didn’t want to talk to him all weekend. Too many emotions were in the way for me to have a conversation.


An Ode to Surviving: The Post Office Probs

Hello, again, all! Looks like I have already gone off the writing grid to sell my soul to the work devil…and the exercise devil….and the healthy living devil. Well, just a brief update shall do then:

1. I work a little less than I was when I wrote my first post–which can be a good thing, or a bad thing, depending on how you want to spin that.

2. I ate very healthily for about 3 weeks and spent three weeks making up for all the delish things I missed. I’m attempting to not make it 4, but I’m out of grocery money, and will be surviving off Cheerios as well as whatever lettuce is left in my fridge. Lucky for me, I have about 4 chicken breast left and some pasta.

3. Valentine’s Day is now over, and my darling boyfriend has not even gotten his gift yet. Thank you, USPS!

So here’s the sitch, now that you’re all updated, all maybe one or two of my readers–ah, I am dying inside, really–I’m going to disclose some personal information here, and I don’t even care!

Firstly, what did we all do for love day? I know I spent an ungodly amount of money at the post office trying to get my boyfriend his gift (he currently lives about 900 miles away from me), and not only did it not show up on time, but it is now two days late with zero tracking update. While you can imagine my frustration with the post office, I can assure you, my frustration is the least of my worries.

Here I am, browsing the world of the internet brainstorming cute things to do for VDay on account of I have no cash flow, and I wanted it to be something from the heart, when all of a sudden I say screw it, and do what I am good at: writing letters, and making cute boxes of things. So here I am, 10 letters and a bottle of very expensive cologne later, and no gift being delivered to my boyfriend.

Naturally, I got insurance, but the money isn’t what bothers me. It’s the fact that I spent so much time and put so much original thought into those letters that I am seriously going to be crushed if he doesn’t get them. I could care less about the hot man smell packed inside that red Valentine’s Day box, though, it does make you forget everything you thought you knew about life before you smelled it.

So, my next step you ask? Well, I do believe it is to give the post office a few hours tomorrow, call, explain my frustration and tell them to get their asses in gear because they’re making me very sad. Not that they really care.

While this was just a short post–you should see my diary–I bid you adieu and goodnight. I am already ridiculously tired at 8:00 and seem rather conflicted this evening. Which can only mean a few things: zen playlist and a real leather journal entry.

Farewell 🙂


Wine Thoughts: Take 1

“Write drunk, edit sober”

I think I can do that. Here’s what I am thinking.

  1. It’s slightly unfair that long distance relationships exist. I swear it’s harder when he’s here than when he’s away only because I hate how fast the days go. At least when he’s gone I get to look forward to him coming home. When he’s here, I have to force myself not to think about the fact that he leaves shortly thereafter.
  2. It’s slightly more unfair that I have two more days of school, as it is pointless to stick students in a room when all they’re thinking about is going on break.
  3. The wine is good, not great, but I opened it by myself. FTW.
  4. I wonder if I am a borderline alchy because I’m drinking alone on a Friday night blogging my happy ass off.
  5. Who gives a shit!? I’m a grown adult, I do what I want.
  6. Damn you, Adele.
  7. Realizing that you suck as a fiction writer because you’re so dramatic that you can’t even handle you.
  8. Those who can’t do, teach. But, I fucking love my job.
  9. Take a drink.
  10. Start a project.
  11. The things I would do if I were omnipotent for a day.
    1. pay off student debt
    2. solve food deserts
    3. eliminate isis
    4. DQ Trump because he’s stupid
    5. be Oprah and give everyone a damn car
    6. give myself bigger boobs (naturally. not those fake ones that can pop in an airplane. Not my style.)
  12. Take another drink.
  13. I like this game.
  14. Poor roommate–oh yeah, she broke her arm on a hoverboard and is in the ER.
  15. Ugh, my brain hurts. I want to do something fun.
  16. Wreck This Journal by Keri Smith, is possibly going to make me less OCD than I currently am.
  17. Jesus, this list of thoughts can go on for days
  18. I want to continue writing, but have no clue what to effing say.
  19. I’m going to take a break. From writing, not wine.
  20. I’ll be back.

That Moment When….

Your roommate informs you that she’s fallen off a hoverboard and broken her arm in two places.

Just when you were getting your wine down, having a deep think moment, and getting ready to write ALL the thoughts, your roommate texts you and says, “You will never guess what happened”…well, shit. She was most definitely right.

What I was going to discuss on this fine Friday as I’m sitting in my room with a great pinot, and ready to solve the worlds problems, there is one that I did not account for; accidents.

While this is categorized as humor, it’s clearly not funny that she broke her arm in two places by hitting a table and then the floor, it is because in life we cannot simply mask the fact that life will literally fall when you’re least expecting it. What matters is getting back up on that damn pony and riding it to the end of the race.