Things that have gone wrong since last night

I say “last night” because the moment I realized I’d forgotten my shiny purple combination lock (that I bought the last time I went to San Diego, no less) at my apartment was the moment it all went down.

I didn’t get to sleep until 1:30 in the morning.

I got to O’Hare at 6:15, where the security line was absurdly long. It might as well have started in Indiana.

I waited in said line for probably 30 to 45 minutes. Then I hightailed it five miles (might as well have been) to gate H11A, where the pleasant (obviously lying here) American Airlines lady (bitch) scolded me for being late (the plane hadn’t fucking left yet!) and told me the next flight was at 11:56 so she was putting me on standby.

All that excitement over my first “Priority Boarding” flight and my first redeemed-miles flight, and my flight out of this annoying-as-fuck city at-the-moment (Sox fan for life, no fucks for the Cubs), deflated and sucked out of me just like the soul was out of that American Airlines lady (bitch) in the Shakespearean era.

It is now 8:35, I have three hours to go, and all I want to do is get to the fucking beach. That, and some sleep. Ugh.

You can’t have it all

If there’s one thing I’ve learned this year in 2015, it’s the above. In fact, this may well be the story of my mid-twenties. I’m no longer the energetic, invincible wild spirit I was when I was 21 and gallivanting around Costa Rica. How is it possible that just five years can make that much of a difference in a person? Am I just maturing? Growing? Dying? Slowly losing my life synergy?

I remember one weekend in Tortugero, Costa Rica, when a couple friends and I suggested to our group that we sleep for the night in the hammocks. Several girls flat out refused, saying they needed their sleep (in beds) because if they didn’t, they would be awful bitches in the morning (well, kudos to them for being honest at least). I, on the other hand, thought sleeping overnight in hammocks would be an amazing idea. So I did it. Lack of sleep? Poor positioning? Meh, who cared!

And now? Well last Saturday I went out to Rosemont with a few friends and my brother, and when the DJ kicked everyone off the dance floor promptly at 3 in the morning, I took it as a sign to leave. My bed had been calling me that night since probably 10 p.m., actually. But of course, it took ages to round everyone up and to get them out the door. I was a raging lunatic by the time 4 a.m. hit and we still had not gotten to the car.

This is gradually applying to every aspect of my life. At work, I’m starting to realize that I can’t do everything all by myself and that the sooner I admit it, the better off I would be. Here, at home, in my kitchen at my makeshift desk, I’ve got piles of receipts and bills and printouts and mail to organize, write down, follow up on, etc., but I’ve given up hope of ever trying to manage them all in one night like I used to be able to do.

When you’re younger—from childhood to young adulthood—life is about exploring everything and doing everything. I took that and I embraced it fully, hardcore. So I guess learning that when you get older, the trick now is to be selective and to prioritize the things in your life, it was hard to accept because it goes against everything I embodied just several years ago.

You can’t have it all and you can’t do it all. So the things you do have and you do do—you be the best, most baddest bitch at ’em.

I have become Bridget Jones

It has been two months and 11 days since I moved into this cute little studio apartment in Chicago’s Northwest Side all by myself. Yes, folks, I’m like a legit grown-up now. Crazy to think that a few months ago I was cramped in my little bedroom at my parents’ house, and now I have all this space to myself, it’s ridiculous. This morning I woke up at 7:15, rolled out of bed at 8, took out the garbage, made myself a huge breakfast omelette, drank some coffee courtesy of the Keurig my dad kindly passed down to me, and now I’m sitting here in the living room listening to the Ella Fitzgerald Pandora station and wondering what on earth to do with myself.

Because, alas, I’m also finding myself encountering all these emotions and scenarios that up until now had only existed in the books and movies for me. Like yesterday, when it was a certain person’s birthday and after coming to the conclusion that he did not want to see me on his birthday, I made myself a taco and chugged through three glasses of wine before passing out on my bed at 9:30 in the evening because the thought of spending a Friday night awake and alone while everyone in the world was out having fun was just too much to bear. Then, when I checked my phone this morning, I had 10+ messages from the certain person insisting that his phone was not working and asking me what I was doing. This was all after I had gone to sleep, of course, so as a result I woke up to Snapchats from him out and having fun with our friends. Now I’m just sitting here with back and neck pain in a sad pathetic misery.

OK. Enough wallowing. Must shower and get on with life.


Six years ago today, I bought my very own domain for the very first time. I set up a new blog. I had decided to “try out this WordPress thing” after manually making my own websites for years. I was a junior in college, busy doing things like socializing (or partying, as college students are wont to do) and trying to make it through classes. It’s funny when I think about those early days. My life was so different back then, and yet I still feel like I’ve only been at this for a couple of years.

Today, I am in the midst of packing up all my things and finally moving out of my parents’ house. Yes, that’s right. After four years of living the post-college life comfortably (and sometimes not-so-comfortably) ensconced in the company of my family, I’m finally getting out and living in the great city of Chicago. I don’t know if this is something that happened all of a sudden (because it sure feels like it, although I guess it’s been a few weeks now since I signed the lease) or something that I can proudly say is the culmination of hard work (because I wrote back in January in my journal that I would move out this year), but all that matters is I’ve made a move and am making progress in my life and finding new challenges to tackle head on (because I know this won’t be easy on my precious bank accounts).

I’ve got so many plans (I know, I know—I’m seriously a broken record) but to think that next week, one of my grand plans will finally be moving into action…it’s so amazingly satisfying and thrilling.

Look to hear more from me soon.

I’ve got plans

I know, I know. That’s what I always say, right? But this time I’m determined. I’ve set myself a deadline, I’ve been doing research, I am movin’ and groovin’ on it! My goal is to slowly transform this blog around and really pump out more writing than before. Enough of me crabbing about like I’m still 14 years old (although, really, I can’t guarantee it 100%).

In other news, I’m trying out the Twenty Fifteen theme here for this blog. To maintain some semblance of the style I was using before, I kept the background image. Oh, and those pictures of a random girl to the left there? Yeah, that’s me, courtesy of my Instagram. I guess it’s time I got really personal with this place.

(Jesus Christ, though, these fonts are huge. I feel like an old lady re-reading this.)