Airports are weird.

I was going to write a post about how much I love taking airplane flights by myself, but I'm much too tired, and I'm still in transit. Instead, I'm going to share some of the things that happened to me in airports the last few days.

A TSA agent asked if she could search my hair.  

I waited in lines.

This was the line for the OUTSIDE bag check at the Austin airport this morning.

I almost stayed in Austin, Texas because the airport was full of cute dudes.

My grandmother and I snapped some selfies while waiting for our flight.

We spent too much money on expensive airport food.

She doesn't know I took this picture.

 Greetings from the road, friends. Happy New Year!

Christmas in Photos

My mom and stepdad gave me a Dalek Christmas ornament, and a journal made with an actual record of The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's album!

Yes, we had chili for Christmas dinner.

Perils of Online Dating

Now that I've reentered the horrible world of online dating, I've discovered that most men, at least the ones who seem to be interested in me, are incapable of stringing together more than one sentence at a time. Occasionally said men are incapable of even stringing together more than one word at a time.

These are some real first messages I've gotten from guys on the site I'm using:

Hey
Hi
nice pic
I think we need to go on a date...
Introverts unite! Hello, How are you?
Hi beautiful how are you can we talk please bc i really want to get to know u better 
You're beautiful
Your a knockout love (: Would you ever be interested in a FWB thing? 

And then, add to this list a "friend" of a friend's harassing me because said friend wouldn't date him.

Yeeeeeah.... Source

But honestly, do they really think that a simple "hi" is enough to woo me? I realize that I've railed against online dating before, and it's tendency to make me feel as though I was advertising myself.

But please. You need to at least make an effort to gain and keep my attention long enough to send you a reply. Let's all be honest here, if you at the very least can't be bothered to write Y-O-U instead of just "u," and/or don't know when to use "you're" and "your," then I probably won't be attracted to you anyway.

Every time I log in to the site, I wonder if I'm wasting my time. But I still find myself browsing through profiles and reading single sentence messages from inarticulate dudes who are probably just looking for booty anyway.

Stay tuned. There WILL be more complaining soon.

Same Old, Same Old

The last time we met our heroine, she was working at Starbucks and Rung Boutique and boyfriend-less.

Now, eight months later,

I'm still working at Starbucks and Rung Boutique.

I've applied for many other jobs. I interviewed twice and was rejected for both. I'm starting to get pretty discouraged.

I'm still single as hell.

I'm trying online dating again, and pretty indifferent about it.

I did NaNoWriMo, and failed. But I'm still working on my novel, which is a change from the two previous years' attempts. I actually managed to create a story I care about. I might have even won this year if I didn't work twelve hour days.

I've discovered one of my problems with my lack of plan for my life is too many choices. I get paralyzed by all the options. I could do anything with my life, and that's what's overwhelming. Having too many options is the same as having none.

I self isolate. The more time I spend alone, the more time I want to spend alone, until it all builds up and I feel completely and utterly alone...because I made it that way. So if I don't call or text, it doesn't mean I don't care. It just means I'm a hermit.

I love my two roommates even more than I did eight months ago. Honestly, I have no idea what I would do without them. They are family.

Eight Months Later...

It's been eight months since I last blogged. I stopped because I didn't have anything to say. I felt like anything I could possibly put into words here would be mere internet noise, not contributing anything to anyone, and certainly not worth anyone's time.

And in those eight months, I think I've realized something. Maybe that's not necessarily the point of writing, of blogging. Certainly a lot of people blog and write to help someone else, to contribute something. But maybe there's a whole other group out there who write for another reason.

Because they have to. Because they have words inside them that they have to put down, whether or not someone actually reads them and values them. I feel like this sometimes. I want to be a writer, although I can't quite figure out why. I've always kept a journal, albeit not always consistently. I've blogged for a few years now, also not consistently.

So what do I want to achieve with this renewed blogging effort? I'm still not quite sure. Perhaps it's more discipline in my writing, making more of an effort to write at all, even if it is just relaying my boring life to all seven of you who are actually interested.

This blog, like my life is a work in progress. I don't have my shit together, so bear with me, friends. I'll do my best to keep you entertained.

More noise.

I know I've been absent from here a lot lately. I could give you a whole litany of excuses.

I've been working a lot.

I'm too tired.

I've been reading instead.

I'm too lazy.

But the real reason? I just don't have anything to say.

I feel as though anything I could post on here would be contrived, superfluous, more noise in an already noisy age full of unnecessary things and information. I don't have anything informative or useful to contribute here.

So where does that leave me?

This is not about baseball.

Here in St. Louis, everyone and everything seems to be about the Cardinals' home opener today. But no sports here, friends. We're talking children's TV shows again. 

Here's some Winnie the Pooh to brighten your day:

I only discovered this recently, when I had to Google the phrase "Tut tut, it looks like rain." It just makes me smile every time I think of it.

What was (or is) your favorite children's song from when you were little?

I may or may not like weird music.

Today's music is brought to by PBS. Yep. Sometime last week I caught most of a spectacular documentary about the folk singer, Joan Baez. She was one of the most famous folk singers ever, (Despite crippling stage fright, which she suffered for years!) and she is intensely involved in spreading messages of peace. She has been to numerous warzones, and during the Vietnam War she protested the draft, repeatedly getting arrested, only to go right back to protesting.You can find more information on her website here.

This particular song was written about Bob Dylan. They toured together in the 1960's, and they were also romantically involved. Here's a link to the lyrics.

I love this song because we all have times in our life that are like this, so full of beautiful and terrible memories, and sometimes they come back to us, playing over and over like a movie reel. I love that this song is so honest about this particular time in her life. She lays their story, her emotions all out on the table.

I'm also in love with her voice. I encourage you to go listen to some of her other music. She's really fantastic.

Can someone tell me what I'm doing here?

There's a question I've been asking. A question, I'm sure, everyone eventually asks in their lifetime, probably more than once, even. The question?

What am I for?

Is there some sort of goal I'm supposed to aim for, some sort of purpose my life is supposed to serve? Is there more to the menial life I lead of work, sleep, and church?

Not to say church is menial. Being a Christian in itself gives life some sort of meaning. However, just because one believes in God doesn't mean one will never feel as though they're wandering in the woods. Which is what I frequently feel like I'm doing.

I have this silly idea that I was supposed to have it all figured out by now. If any of you actually knew what you wanted to do by the time you were 26, please comment below.

Maybe I've got it wrong. Maybe there isn't some grand design for our lives, some one singular goal to strive for.

I'll confess, part of me has bought into the lie that society is peddling that your worth lies in your job, in how much money you make, in the things that you have. When I feel bad about the fact that I work an hourly wage job in the service industry, I have to consciously remind myself that it's all a lie. Everything about my current job, according to culture, is bad. An hourly wage is somehow lower in stature than a salary; serving someone is somehow lower in stature than ruling over someone.

All of this said and done, I don't want to work for Starbucks forever.

I would like it if one of you could post in the comments some steps, a list I could follow in order to succeed at life. That would be super handy, although I'm pretty certain it doesn't work like that.

I don't even know what I'm doing anymore...

I considered piggybacking off of Kirsti's Movie Monday again this week, but then I decided it would be cheating, a little. But she did post about the movie "Music and Lyrics" which I will shamelessly admit that I love. So you all should go read it. Right now.

Anyway, I don't know how to intro this one. It's completely ridiculous. It was introduced to me by my friend Renee. It's a song called "Boten Anna" by a Swedish dude called Basshunter. I'm sharing it with you because nothing about the video makes sense, and it makes me laugh endlessly.

It has something to do with a guy being in love with this person he's chatting online with, who he thinks is a robot, but who actually turns out to be a real person. (There's a wikipedia page for it, in case you care.) There is next to nothing about this video that would clue me in on what it's actually about, and that's kind of why I love it.

I love that he's standing on a paddle boat dancing, I love that the rearview mirror in that weird yellow car was totally broken, I love that in the logical place in the song where a big dance break would occur, there was just like, a shot of a rave or something.

I love watching a weird music video and getting to the end and having that "What did I just watch?" sort of reaction.

So, friends, what's your favorite bizarre music video?

Also, I think this is the bottom, guys. I need your help! Give me music suggestions for future posts!

I'm not okay.

I had a difficult time writing this post. I've been struggling lately, with my own emotions.

I recognize that I am a highly emotional person. I feel things very strongly. You'd think that after 26 years of living with this particular personality quirk, that I would be able to embrace it. But I can't.

Something has told me that it's not okay for emotion to be the governing force in my life, that I must be cold and logical instead.

And while I am able to logic my way through my emotions and discern which particular feelings may be completely irrational and why I'm having them, for me, for some reason, that's not enough. For a reason I can't quite explain, if I could make myself less emotional I would.

I hate having emotions so strong that I feel like I'm still going through puberty. I hate crying at the drop of a hat about things that don't deserve tears. I hate getting angry about stuff that should only be mildly irritating. I hate being overly excited about things, because of the way people fake smile and go "That's great."

I know that the thing that matters is not the having of emotions, but the reaction to said emotions. I know that I can't control the emotions, and that's okay, but that I can control my reaction to them.

But I still don't know how to be okay with this part of myself.

ALL THE FEELINGS.

Today's music is brought to you by Kirsti. Well, sort of. Her "Movie Monday" this week was Moulin Rouge, and she was kind enough to post this gem from the movie!

This is one of my favorite scenes in the movie because OH MY GOODNESS THE FEELINGS. I'm definitely going to be watching this movie again this week. Thanks, K!

So friends, what music do you have on repeat this week?

Getting old is not for sissies.

As a side note, I would like to point out that this is my 300th post! Hooray for me! Do I win some sort of 300th post prize? Timtams? Beer? A hot boyfriend? A day off from work?

No? Rats. Let's get down to business. (To defeat the Huns.)

Personally, I don't think we in America give enough respect to elderly folks. Getting older is NOT for sissies. It terrifies me a little.

7 Reasons Why Getting Old Terrifies Me

Why only 7? Because I'm too lazy to come up with 10. In no particular order. . .

1.Your body falls apart. Old age is riddled with physical perils. Loss of hearing/eyesight, arthritis, cancer, what have you. None of the physical ailments associated with getting old sound remotely attractive to me. I'd really like to pass on this part.

2. Your teeth fall out. At least this is the impression I get. I mean, there's the whole thing about dentures being a thing, right? I'd like to keep my teeth.

3. Dementia. All joking aside, this scares the living daylights out of me. I do not want to forget who I am, who my loved ones are. My grandmother, who just recently passed away, suffered from dementia, and in her last years, she was routinely confused about a lot of things, including exactly who my mother is. Honestly speaking, I'm not only afraid of this happening to me, I'm afraid of my other loved ones suffering from this. I'm not sure I could bear it if my parents didn't know who I was.

4. Hearing loss. As a musician, the thought of eventually losing my hearing, at least in part, is the scariest thing ever. There are a lot of horrible things I would rather suffer than lose my hearing.

5. Making big, long-term decisions. Those which potentially affect your entire life. Buying a house, when to retire, investing/saving money, etc. Making decisions is hard. I mean, I can't even decide what sort of career to pursue. How am I ever going to make the really hard choices?

6. Watching your friends die. I'm not sure I need to expand on this one. I'm sure you guys get it.

7. Nursing homes. Nursing homes not only smell funny, they are just sad. And there are always stories about the elderly being mistreated by their caretakers. Personally, I'm afraid of being put in a really terrible one and left there.


I suppose now, to look on the bright side, I'll have to come up with a post about the benefits of getting older, mostly to convince myself that it won't be so bad.

So what about getting old, (or at least just old-er) scares you?

Just try and stop yourself from singing along.

Oh hey, there internets. Long time, no see. I'm not going to apologize for not having any motivation to do anything ever because sometimes you just have to take a break, right? Right.

ANYWHO.

This week's Music Monday is brought to you by a blast from the past. Ready for this?

THE INSPECTOR GADGET THEME SONG.

Try and tell me you weren't singing along.

So, friends, what are your favorite TV show theme songs?

I have a social life! Kind of.

So, on Saturday I went to a concert at Cicero's with my roommate, Renee. Yep, you read that correctly. I went out on a Saturday night.

But that's not the point. The point is, Renee introduced me to some great new music by a really awesome band called Mike Mains and the Branches. Here they are:

Source

Most of them anyway. When I saw them on Saturday, their lineup was a little different, but they were so cool.

They were all up on stage, looking so dapper. Even the girl. Girls can look dapper. The men were all wearing oxford shirts and sweater vests and ties and things. Their show was so rad. They really knew how to engage a crowd, and they even included audience participation! During the last song, they invited the crowd up on stage with them. It was pretty awesome.

Here's the video for their song, "Stereo."

Happy Monday, friends!

Adventures in Online Dating, part 2

I logged into the online dating website on Monday, fully intending to shut down my account. I hadn't even been on the website in about two weeks. I'd resolved to give up online dating; it wasn't doing me any good, I wasn't really talking to anyone, and I felt like I was advertising myself the whole time. Also I was tired of the emails clogging up my inbox.

It all seemed like a game I didn't want to play. And going out on a date with someone I don't even know does not seem worth the anxiety I feel over it.

But maybe that's how I feel about dating, even in the real world. I'm just not sure it's worth the anxiety I feel. The thought of going out on a date with anyone is pretty scary.

So on Monday, in my efforts to figure out how to cancel my account, (Which I still haven't found yet, by the way.) I found myself looking at profiles. And then I found myself sending messages.

I'm thinking this is part of this particular website's plan to keep you on their site. They make it difficult for you to cancel your account, and so instead you give up and keep looking at profiles.

I'm going to give it another week. Or however long I feel like.

Normally I hate award shows.

Last night I managed to watch most of the Grammy Awards before I turned into a pumpkin at roughly 9:45pm. Normally, I hate awards shows. I tend to lean towards the opinion that it's just a bunch of rich people patting each other on the back.

Nevertheless, any shows of self-importance were completely made up for by the amazing performances. If you didn't watch it, I feel bad for you. The only gripe I have is that someone in production likes technology WAY too much.

This year's Grammys apparently hailed Justin Timberlake's return to music, not that I keep up with such things. Friends, he was nothing short of spectacular. Here he is performing "Suit and Tie."

Did you watch the Grammys? What was your favorite performance?

Ada

Everyone has a story. It is worth knowing, and often times the most fascinating are from your own family. Stories are powerful. They can bring laughter, tears, truths not yet heard, family closer together, and healing.

I loved my grandmother very much, however my view of her was always somewhat colored by her failing health. There was so much I didn't know about Ada Lee Fielden.

Her parents traveled from western Missouri to eastern New Mexico in 1908, a distance spanning roughly 700 miles, by covered wagon with three small children in tow. She was the last of her siblings, the youngest of eight.

She was born April 7, 1921, nearly an entire century ago. She grew up during the Depression and the Dust Bowl. She was her high school's valedictorian. She loved gardening, crochet, embroidery, painting. My grandfather, LeRoy, called her Shorty, and they loved each other very much.

LeRoy and Ada Fielden, 1947. Photo belongs to our family.

I posted briefly when she passed away a few weeks ago, but we held her memorial service this past Saturday in Louisville, KY. My mother and aunt, as well as a number of friends from her church shared many memories and stories about her. I was able to rejoice for her, for the life she had lived, for the salvation she now has in Jesus, in a way that I never could with my paternal grandfather, Herschel. I learned more about her after she died, I think, than I ever did while she was alive, a thing I somewhat regret. However, the learning has brought about closure, a contentment with the knowledge that she has been taken home to heaven.

My grandmother's obituary can be found here, as well as a number of other photos of her and our family.

Dr. House can sing!

In case you didn't know, approximately two years ago Hugh Laurie, formerly of TV's "House," released an album called "Let Them Talk," full of New Orleans jazz.

Yep. House can sing and play the piano.

This happens to be my favorite track from the album, because of reasons that should be WAY obvious once you press play on this video.

You're welcome.

10 things I wish I could say out loud

(but can't because we all have to be adults sometime, right?)

Presented in list form. The numbers are just for show and to satisfy my need for numbered lists. They do not indicate any particular order. Oh, and most of them will probably be about work.

1. When I tell you I don't like to be touched, an appropriate response would be, "Oh, sorry. My bad. I won't do it again." An inappropriate response would be what you said, which was "HAHAHA THAT'S HILARIOUS!"
2. An Americano is the EASIEST DRINK TO MAKE. Espresso shots + hot water. When you were hired, it was LITERALLY the first thing they taught you to make. So when someone asks for an Americano with milk, you should know that they don't want steamed milk instead of water. THAT'S A LATTE. YOU SHOULD KNOW ALL OF THESE SIMPLE THINGS. 
3. Thank you for halting your assumption that I'm always pissed off when I'm really just tired. It really makes my life a whole lot easier.
   
4. When we are at a four way stop, and it is my turn, you may not creep forward into the intersection, because it is my turn and you have to wait.
5. Use your words. And get rid of that attitude. When you scowl at me and hold out a container of half and half, but don't say anything, YOU ARE BEING RUDE. An appropriate way to ask for more would be "It appears we've run out of half and half. Can I have some more, please?" But that's probably my bad. I understand that when you're the consumer you can't be bothered by things like manners and stuff.
6. How is it that you have enough money to drop $600 on one dress?
7. When it is 11 o'clock at night, and you are walking down the street, that is not an appropriate time to be shouting because people are sleeping.
8. THE ENDING TO THE NIGHT CIRCUS IS NOT A COP-OUT. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT.
9. Stop being such a toddler. The things you're getting angry about are not a big deal. Put on some perspective, please.
10. People leave you because you push them away, because you give them no other choice. Please start wearing your reality pants. 

Wow. That felt really good! Thanks for listening guys.

Feel free to use the comments to share anything you wish you could say out loud! I highly recommend it.

I found the cure for your case of the Mondays.

Do you hate Mondays? Are you having the worst day in the history of ever? I totally found your cure for the Monday blues, and it's Gotye's "I Feel Better." It's on the same album as "Somebody That I Used To Know," (It's an awesome song just over played and stop judging you guys!) which is completely amazing.

So turn up the volume, press play, and get up and DANCE. Yep. Do it. No one is watching or judging, I promise.

See? Don't you feel better?

Adventures in Online Dating

If you're following along at home, you'll recall that I got suckered into online dating by my two darling roommates.

By "darling" I mean they really are the best ever. For real.

And by "suckered" I mean they didn't really have to do any arm twisting.

ANYWHO. As I was saying, Saturday night we had a profile-making party which involved moderate amounts of booze to soften the blow signing up was doing to my ego. My roommates were awesome and helped me figure what to write on my profile.

My experience the past few days has been... EH.

I've messaged with a few guys. And most of the conversations have fallen into the same pattern. We'll connect over a couple of different topics for a little while, and then conversation will kind of...die out, for whatever reason.

And that's fine. I never expected to really connect with someone in the first week.

The thing I have issue with is the way this whole experience makes me feel. With every carefully worded message I send, with every sentence I construct for my profile, I feel as though I am writing an advertisement for myself. I feel as though I am trying to convince someone they want to buy me.

I haven't been on a date in, well, a hell of a long time, so I might have forgotten. Is dating in person like this? Is this a feeling that I've missed? Is the dating game all a big ad for yourself?

Or is this what life is, and I just missed the point? Every time you speak, every time you dress yourself, are you really just trying to convince someone that you're worth their time?

Maybe I'm just not cut out for online dating. I can't bring myself to quit after less than a week, though, despite the fact that I always feel like I'm trying to advertise myself.

So friends, have any of you tried online dating? What has been your experience with it? Good? Bad?

You guys, how is it Monday again already?

Seriously. This past week has flown by. It seems like I've been working more, although I don't really think that's true.


Today's musical selection is by Florence and the Machine. I know this song is a little old, but I'm still so addicted to this entire album. "Ceremonials" is SO GOOD. Go and listen to it. Now.

I'd talk more about why I love it, emotions, feelings, blah blah. But I'm tired. And I'm not sure you all really want to read that junk anyways.

What did I just agree to?

Somehow, my roommates managed to get me to agree to join an online dating site with them.

WHAT.

I'm not even that eager to go on dates, or enter a relationship. (Notice how I avoided using the word "desperate"? You all should be proud of me.)

Somehow I managed to get talked into an online dating profile-making party with them tonight. Yikes. I'm glad we have alcohol.

It's not that I'm looking down my nose at people who do online dating. I understand that in this internet age, it's super practical. And that sometimes, it's just hard to meet people. But there still feels something a little bit. . . I don't know. Last resort-ish about it?

And then there's the part where you eventually meet people from the internet who could be serial killers and rapists and generally bad people. SCARY. Not that I think my internet friends are bad people in disguise. . . Um. . . Anyone want to help me out of this hole?

Right. Back on topic.

I can think of several reasons why I shouldn't do this.

So why did I say yes?

Wish me luck friends. At least this makes for more blogging fodder.

Don't you judge me.

As much as I wear judgy pants on this blog, I probably deserve some judging myself. But try not to judge me to harshly for the story I'm about to tell.

Last Saturday, I got off work from my awesome, part time job at Rung Boutique, aching for a beer. It had been the shittiest week I'd had in a long time. So I called my friend, we'll call her "A," and we made plans to get dinner and beer, as she'd had a long day as well.

A came over to my house, and we talked a few minutes about where we should go. After hearing her suggestions, we decided to go to a pub/bar/restaurant (Which shall remain nameless to protect the not-so-innocent!) that she had heard good things about, but which neither of us had been to before.

We ordered our beers, and perused the menu for far too long. Our poor, adorable waiter was so patient with us. A ordered a salad and I followed suit. While we waited, we chatted about work, and people who are pains in our backsides.

Finally our salads arrived, and we unwrapped our silverware. Giants must frequent said restaurant, because our forks were, indeed, giant-sized. As in, the size of my face. Literally, the size of my face.

See? I told you.The size of my face. Also, I took this photo.

It was all I could think about during our fantastic (despite pricey than expected) salads, as well as a to-die-for certain chocolate something with raspberry stuff on it.

It was halfway through dessert that I decided. I began to think of a certain former roommate of mine (You know who you are!) who obtained, through slightly shady methods a certain beer glass from the local pub. Just because she wanted it.

And there it was. I wanted the giant fork. Not to use it. Just to have it.

I may or may not still have the fork in my possession. Okay, I'll just be honest. This is just between us friends, right? It's not like this is on the internet for everyone to read.

I do still have the fork, having slipped it ever so coolly into my purse before paying the check. To be fair, A and I were nice, and left good tips. Partly because of the fork. But also because TIP YOUR SERVER YOU GUYS. AND YOUR BARISTA. But seriously, tip your barista.

I do sort of feel bad. Because, you know. God says don't steal.

BUT YOU GUYS. GIANT FORK. GIANT. FORK.

I love Fun.

I cannot stop listening to Fun.'s "Some Nights." In fact, I was literally JUST belting it throughout the house at my roommate Renee.

That's one of the reasons I love Fun. Sometimes you just need to sing at the top of your lungs and not care. And their songs are good for that.

I admire the boldness in their music. I don't hear anything else quite like them on the radio.

I don't know what else to say except go listen to their album "Some Nights." Right now.

I don't know how to write about this.

But that's what writers do. Stuff happens to us, and we write about it. But I really don't want to.

My grandmother, my mom's mother, passed away early this morning, and I don't know what to say about it.

When my grandfather died in 2011, I tried to say something, and I sort of did, but still not really.

I know that this should feel different from when Papa died. His was sudden and unexpected, and I'm still very angry about it at times. Grandma's health had been declining for a long time. She had been slowly fading away from us for a long time.

I should be happy that she's with Jesus, that she isn't suffering anymore, all of that stuff that Christians say to make themselves feel better.

But I still want to stop feeling things and crawl into bed and sleep forever, just like when Papa died. Maybe that's just how I deal with death. I just don't want to think about it.

Or really anything bad, come to think of it. I'd like to believe that sleep, wine, chocolate, and episodes of Doctor Who will make everything better. But that's like putting a band-aid over a bullet hole and expecting the bleeding to stop.

I know that at some point I'll have to stop and feel this, think about this. But, like a true procrastinator, I'll do it later. For now, I'll pretend that sleep, wine, chocolate, and episodes of Doctor Who will make everything better.

This puppetry is not for children.

Today's music comes from a musical with puppets. Yep. Puppets.

Avenue Q is about young people struggling to live in New York City. Except they're puppets. Most of them.

However, Avenue Q is not Sesame Street. It is NOT for children. It has a habit of saying all of the funny things we aren't supposed to think are funny, because they're so irreverent. If you're not easily offended, I suggest you check it out.

While this musical has a habit of being completely shocking, there is this sincerely honest and heartbreaking little gem, "There's a Fine, Fine Line," in which Kate Monster is breaking up with her boyfriend, Princeton.

This is my favorite song from the musical, because, well, there's all of the feels it gives you. Anyone who has ever experienced the end of a relationship can relate to this. Sometimes you just need to be sad for a while. Otherwise why would we watch shows like Doctor Who or read books like The Fault in Our Stars?

I'm an emotional slob, friends. But I kind of love it.

What's your favorite song this week? Share a link to it below!

The worst noise in the world

Ummmmmm.

And even worse, its brother,

 UHHHHHHHH.

Say it out loud with me.

"Uhhhhhh."

Doesn't it just feel unpleasant to say?

While I realize the point of these two vocalized pauses is to indicate to the listener that you're still speaking, that doesn't change the fact that, aesthetically it's a terrible sound.

I'd rather hear silence than this ugliness: "Ummmm. Uhhhhh."

The worst is when I'm working at Starbucks and I ask people what I can get them, to which they promptly reply: "Uhhhhh."

I'm sorry. We don't have a drink called "Uhhhh." But if we did, it would look like this:

Not very appetizing, is it? Source

Am I alone in this? I can't be the only person who finds their skin crawling every time this sound enters their ears.

I realize this is partly me wearing my judgy pants because I studied music and theatre. I pay attention to the way people speak, probably more than the average bear.

But honestly? I just don't care. There's a reason why they try to break you of saying it when you take a speech class. It's ugly.

So let's recap:
-"Uhhhh" and "Ummmm" are the worst sounds in the world.
- They're not actual words, despite the fact that people try and use them in place of speaking real words.
-It is the auditory equivalent of a mud puddle.
-I wear judgy pants, and I judge you when you say "uh" or "um."

The end.

Promises you don't intend to keep...

Source

I feel this way about New Year's resolutions. People make promises to do things, lose weight, go to church, read books, do X, Y, and Z, most of the time with good intentions. Often times people make resolutions because everyone else is doing it, because it's expected, etc. Not because they actually want to change. 

Resolutions at New Year's are one of those things that I'm opposed to on principle, like pet names and Twilight. But still, every year, I find myself making a mental list of things I want to change, things I want to do better at, more of. This year is no different, and this year, this blog is on the list.

I want to be a better blogger. I really do. I want to post more regularly, more often, about better topics. I want to be more involved in the blogging community. I want a better design for my blog, because, well, yeah... I want to care about this.

So bloggy friends, any tips for me on how to be a better blogger? I feel as though I could use all the help I could get.