Silver Linings

I am done with this semester. I am done! I AM DONE!! And I'm feeling pretty damn good about myself because I did well in all my classes. So today I'm going to talk about things that I am good at.

1. Making my face look absolutely, stunningly, incredibly disgusting. I'm not that girl who makes cute goofy faces like, "Oh look at me being funny, hee hee!" I look fucking GROSS, and I'm hella proud of it. Here are some examples. Gird your loins.

Looking hot at prom

A series of photos taken at formal during my undergrad in which my ugly face making was leagues above anyone else's. Just saying. 

Pretty sure this is from that same formal

Just an average dinner out

2. Drinking alcohol far too quickly. So I'm like a super impatient person (working on that...), and if I'm not feeling any effects after like 15 minutes I will get more drinks. And on and on and then suddenly WABAM, it hits me like a train. I haven't really drank just to drink in a while, so this might have improved, but I never learned my lesson in college.

3. Drinking caffeine far too quickly. I have many anxiety disorders (okay just two), so I really shouldn't drink caffeine, but I just get SO TIRED sometimes and I need a pick-me-up. But the same damn thing happens where I'll drink a cup and be like, "DAMMIT I DON'T FEEL AWAKE YET, MOAR." And so I drink moar and then I get hit with the caffeine poops and it's all downhill from there, folks.

4. Writing things. I feel like I've always been a good writer, but my lyrics and poetry improved drastically after I took a creative writing class in undergrad. I'm way too obsessed with making things sound good, and I totally have a boner for internal rhyme. 

5. Doing nothing. God, if this was a job, I would be the freaking millionaire CEO. I have a lot of friends who will say they feel stressed out and unproductive if they sit around all day. Do you know how I feel? AWESOME. If you don't know what I'm doing, it's safe to assume I'm sitting on my couch and watching netflix. 

6. Music. If I'm not netflixing, I'm musicing. Now, I feel like I'm not a particularly talented singer or guitarist, but I do feel like I write some pretty good songs, and I'm great at playing the piano. I'm also stupid good at sight reading. I don't know why, but it's always come easily to me. Fun fact: I won an award for that shit in my high school choir like three years running. 

7. Theatre things. Another fun Kelly fact: I was the recipient of two acting scholarships. I was in almost every play/musical at my high school and was on the Comedy Improv team all four years. Those were the DAYS, man. I competed in all sorts of acting, and sometimes I even won. 

8. Doom. I've been playing Doom since I was 10 years old and I just got really good at it. I don't like the newer games (idk I just like that whole crappy old graphics thing), but Ultimate Doom, Doom II, and Final Doom are my shiiiiit. 

9. Memorizing things. This definitely helped me back in my theatre days. Now it's just sort of used for useless things such as remembering all of the song lyrics and literally every conversation I've ever had with anyone ever and also probably what the other person was wearing during that conversation. My hippocampus got skillz. 

10. Makeup. You will never know how terrible my skin actually is because I have become professional at making people think it's flawless. Last fun fact: I have acne scarring like crazy and pretty ridiculous rosacea. But my mom is a makeup artist and I spent a whole lot of time just dicking around with things and figuring out how to make my skin look smooth and also skin-colored, as opposed to bumpy and red. 

That's all I have to say and I don't know how to end this so here is a picture of a cow.

The Day I Met Satan: OOTD Log

Let me tell you about an even that has occurred. And yes, we're back into the general hilarity that is my life and moving away from the deep blogs of deepness that are deep.

The date is April 23, which means that the end of the semester is approaching. I've never been so excited for something to end. I'm sick to death of these stupid grad school core classes and writing papers and doing massive projects about things that just don't fucking apply to me AT ALL.

End of the semester means two things: I'm lazy and I'm tired. I just really don't feel like doing much of anything. But some things ya gotta do. Laundry is one of those things.

So I took myself down to good ole Demun Cleaners a few days ago because I'm not about to climb down four flights of stairs every half hour to do a load of laundry in my dungeon basement when I can do it all at once at a laundromat. I parked my car out front, grabbed my basket and my detergent and whatnot, and I went inside. So far, so good. I separated colors, like you do, and I put my dark load into washer number 3.

And that, children, was a terrible mistake.

You see, on this day, washer number 3 was possessed by Actual Satan. In fact, for the purposes of this story, I will refer to washer number 3 as Beelzebub.

So I loaded my things into Beelzebub and sat down at a nearby table to work on the various projects and papers that will be of no use to me in my social work career. There I was, working away, and I looked up to see Beelzebub leaking a bit. This was concerning to me, so I got the attendant (who, thank god, was still there at 5:30 p.m.). She went to the breaker box to turn Beelzebub off, but apparently didn't know which breakers controlled which washers, and I feel like maybe that's something you should know if you work in a laundromat. Just saying.

While she was diddling around on the breaker board, Beelzebub grew angrier and angrier and was basically just releasing a river at this point. Laundromat Lady finally figured out how to turn him off before ultimate disaster struck, but then she did something so dumb it's unbelievable.

Laundromat Lady walked over to Beelzebub and OPENED THE FREAKING WASHER DOOR.

If I could use one word to describe what happened when she unleashed Beelzebub, that word would be "Titanic." You know the scenes when the water is rushing down the stairs or down hallways and just seems utterly unstoppable? It was like that.

She flooded the whole damn laundromat. To put the cherry on top of this shit show sundae, I was stuck in the middle of this flood wearing flip flops, and the floor is tile. It was just a treat trying to transfer my clothes out of Beelzebub and into a more Godly washer while gingerly stepping through an inch of water and wearing slippery shoes.

Let it be known that I did not fall one single time. Not once.

And that's the story of the fateful afternoon when I stared the devil right in the face.

Good ole Beezy Bubs. Do not use washer number 3. 

The Bridge

This blog post is about to get hella personal. So just be ready for that. It's also not funny or lighthearted. I'm not the biggest fan of veering from my typical style of post, but this shit has been on my mind, so I'm just going to say it. Or, rather, I'm going to let Nayyirah Waheed say it, because no one has ever said it better:

"Someone can be madly in love with you and still not be ready. They can love you in a way you have never been loved and still not join you on the bridge. And whatever their reasons you must leave. Because you never ever have to inspire anyone to meet you on the bridge. You never ever have to convince someone to do the work to be ready. There is more extraordinary love, more love that you have never seen, out here in this wide and wild universe. And there is the love that will be ready." 

--Nayyirah Waheed

My previous relationship—my only relationship—ended because he wasn't ready to join me on the bridge. That relationship was the greatest love I have ever known. It's been about three months since it ended, and I've been dating and exploring and pushing my mental and physical boundaries. Honestly, I've been pretty happy overall. But I have my moments.

No matter how quickly (relatively) I was able to pick myself back up, and despite having moved on, and regardless of my recent realization and acceptance that I actually do not want that relationship back, it still really fucking hurts to think about how the manner in which it ended. I think it will always sting a little bit.

But I was on the bridge, and he wasn't even on the other side of the bridge—he was on the ground. He was in the river. He was floating in the clouds. Wherever the hell he was, we somehow ended up on completely different pages of a book that we had been writing together for years. And boy, did I try to convince him to meet me on the bridge. I must have called him 20 times the morning after he broke up with me. I spent several hours texting him and telling him that I was wrong, and that I understood, and that if we both tried we could make it work.

But the thing is, I wasn't wrong. I don't understand. And I don't know that I could have learned to trust him again and make it work. The bottom line is that I shouldn't have sat there for hours, texting my way through my battery power trying to inspire him to want me again.

No one should ever have to do that.

Do not do that. Do you hear me?

No matter how long you have been with a person, no matter how long you have known them, no matter what level your relationship is at, you NEVER. EVER. have to convince them. In fact, the longer you've been together, the more offensive it becomes that you would have to convince them of anything.

Even in the short time that I've been dating, I'm starting to realize that I might be chillin' on this bridge by myself for awhile. I'm the type of person that truly cares about people. I want to get to know you and I want to understand you. But when I do, I tend to develop feelings faster than I should. It's a somewhat annoying trait of mine, but one that I do not want to ever change. See, feeling that intensely and connecting with people like I can is an amazing feeling when it happens, even though that trait can also tend to put me right back on that bridge alone. 

It fucking sucks to feel unwanted. To feel like you're not worth it. To feel like you're not good enough to warrant a bridge meeting. It is the most soul crushing feeling that I have ever experienced.

It's hard to recognize your own worth sometimes. It's definitely hard for me, and I tend to give people way, way too many chances. I'm here to tell the world that I'm done, and that you should be, too.

I'm confident that I'm a really awesome person. I'm fun and I'm funny and I'm a great listener. I'm a baller girlfriend and friend and the best movie watching partner you will ever come across. I generally get along well with people, and I feel like I'm good at making people feel comfortable around me. I'm very likeable—loveable, even.

And I'm done trying to convince people to see that. Sometimes I get down on myself and I think that I peaked in that relationship and that I'll never find anything that good again. Which is sad if it's true to be honest, but I don't think it is true. Even though I'm not relationship-ing again yet, I've met some pretty awesome guys. There are guys out there who are goofballs like me and have great senses of humor and who I'm unbelievably attracted to, and eventually, there will be a guy like that who will be on the bridge already. Maybe it'll take some time to find him, because it's easy to get distracted by those ground/cloud dwellers, but he exists and he'll be there.

And if I find someone who's super great and awesome and amazing and he's not on the bridge, I will just have to move on, no matter how much it hurts. My breakup was not a good breakup, but it's been a chance for me to figure out exactly what I want in a man, and exactly what I do NOT want in a man.

I'm not settling. Don't you dare settle.

The Tinder Trials

Well. I promised it, and here it is.

For those of you who live with Patrick Star and don't know what Tinder is, it's a dating app. It can be really great. I've talked to some cool guys on there and even met one in person.

But Tinder is like a carton of blueberries. Most of them are just regular ripe old blueberries. But every so often you get one that's mushy and disgusting.

Below are the mushy blueberries of Tinder.

Our first blueberry is Tony, who uses Snapchat the way we all expected Snapchat to be used when it first came out. The devil emoji really drives home just how naughty Tony wants to be.

 

Blueberry number 2 is Francisco, who goes to the church of Love and who also devours lady parts. You do you, Francisco. 

You may recognize our next blueberry from my Facebook post previewing this blog post. His name is Coty. Bad spelling runs in his genes. He is a #senior. And he is majoring in psychologist. 

Blueberry Douglas clearly does not understand Tinder.

Matt is a blueberry that wants to show you amazing pleasures in a 3way to remember. These pleasures include mouths, tongues, water, hand holding, worshipping (Jesus first), vegetables, numbers, Autumn, wind, fire, alcohol, biceps, vegetation, and rainbows. What a fucking night. 

Who wears short shorts? Our next blueberry wears short shorts. And also provocative vests.

This is DeerCat. He is an entrepreneur whose height and handling will give you a religious experience.

This blueberry has it all, from the epic facial hair right down to the star wars crop top.

This blueberry is so naked right now.

Blueberry Bryan is peeing on fences at the ripe old age of 27. He also likes things, so you probably have that in common.

Meet Sallybear, the blueberry with a gun, fauxhawk, fancy tie clip, and a smoldering bear stare.

An honest blueberry is the best kind of blueberry. In addition, any blueberry that uses fun slang words for vagina is a winner in anyone's book.

Our next blueberry wants to give you a Pretty Woman experience, but only if you call him daddy.

This blueberry is a little desperate, but he also loves MILFs, so the decision has gotten infinitely harder.

Last but certainly not least, our final blueberry is Panda, and he is not afraid to wear denim on denim on denim while he makes you dinner or serenades you. And also his name is Panda.

Happy swiping, my brothers and sister in Tinder!

The Single Life

Everyone knows by now that I'm a single lady. To quote one of my all time faves, She's the Man: "It was just, like, a big, huge, dumping."

It's been a shitty few months and I don't want to be a stupid sad cry baby anymore because I'm too awesome for that. To quote another all time fave, How I Met Your Mother: "When I get sad, I stop being sad and be awesome instead." 

To make up for the fact that I am in a program that is 95 percent women, I have taken the plunge into Tinder.

Met a super hot Spanish photographer. Met a really cool, funny dude named Matt (really? come on). Met a guy who "just wants to cuddle." 

In the approximately 48 hours that I have been on Tinder, I have compiled a list of rules that I feel all you lovely dudes on Tinder should abide by. Here they are.

1. No one gives a shit about your truck/ATV/motorcycle. And if one or more of your pictures isn't actually you but is instead some kind of motorized vehicle, I'm just sad for you. 

2. No one gives a shit about the giant fish you caught or that one time you held a *insert name of snake here*. These are things I would've expected to see back in Alabama. Also, Britney looked better with a snake than you do so don't even try because you can never reach her level of badassery. 

3. Maybe this is just me, but if the first thing in your bio says "God first," or "Jesus saves," I am already beyond over you.

4. Consider having at least one picture of you by yourself. I'm not a gambler. I will not guess which one you are in a group photo and hope for the best.

5. Pictures with half-naked girls? Really? Wow, we're all really impressed by your ability to get chicks. 

6. Do not call me baby. I do not know you. 

7. Sorry to break your heart, but asking me to hang out at midnight will not work because a) it's rapey and b) I get out of bed and put on real pants/a bra for no man. 

8. Why are you married?

9. WHY ARE YOU MARRIED? 

10. Shirtless gym pictures? I'm over it. 

But if we're being honest, none of these really matter because

11. Get over yourself. You're on Tinder. So if you have a list of deal breakers or "reasons to swipe left" (especially if they're stupid reasons, such as "If you're like cats more than dogs") in your profile, you need to get your big ole egotistical head out of your butt. 

Boys, I promise, if you follow these guidelines chicks will totally dig you. Or at least they won't be disgusted/creeped out by you. One step at a time.

Dumb Dentist

If you've been keeping up with me on Facebook, then you may know that I've had some trouble with my teeth recently. I hadn't been to the dentist in two years because of my family's move to Chattanooga and my resulting laziness in finding a new dentist either at home or at school.

I finally made an appointment because one of my lower right molars had been hurting for a month or so, and it looked like it had a little hole in it. There's a dental office at the end of my street that I pass every day I go to school, so I figured I would call them. From the first phone call, there were so many signs that this was not the best dentist, and of course I ignored them. A synopsis:

Phone call: I call dentist about five minutes before they close to make an appointment. After we make the appointment, I apologize for calling so late. She says, "That's okay, I'm just happy I'll have something to do tomorrow."

Do you not usually have things to do? Just how many patients do you guys have?

First appointment: Get X Rays done. Dentist comes in, and before she even introduces herself, she says, "Well, it looks like you might need a root canal." Good. Fabulous start. Dentist also attempts to explain my dental situation using technical terms, and I stop her halfway through and say, "You're going to have to start over, because I did not understand anything you just said."

I'm a patient, dude. I don't know anything about dentistry (well, I do now, because I've researched it...but I didn't then). You gotta use layman's terms here.

She informs me that I have five teeth that need fillings.

I just realized that they never asked for X Rays from my previous dentist. I feel like that usually happens...am I crazy?

Second appointment: The goal is to fill all of the teeth on my right side. Dentist ends up having to give me three shots because I'm apparently very difficult to numb. She keeps making little quips about how I'm making it take forever, blah blah blah. We only get through one filling—the one that was hurting me.

Post-appointment, I'm in a little bit of pain. My jaw hurts and my tooth is really sensitive. So I call back and they tell me that this is normal, because keeping your mouth open for a long time and block injections will both cause soreness, and sensitivity can be expected for up to six weeks because of the amount of tooth that needed filling (it was a three-surface filling).

Why didn't you tell me that in the first place??

The receptionist says that the dentist should have told me to expect this, and to take some pain killers before the numbness goes away.

She did not. She did not tell me. I did not take pain killers. Well, I did, but not until way after the numbness was gone.

Third appointment: Dentist hits me in the lip with the needle while putting the syringe in my mouth, then blames this on me. She says, "Sometimes, if you don't open your mouth far enough, the needle can get caught." My lip begins to go numb.

Why didn't you ask me to open my mouth wider??

Fourth appointment: I wait for half an hour after my appointment time until Dentist finally comes in. She numbs me and leaves again to let it set in. While numbing, she begins talking to her assistant about getting drunk with her friends. Really?

Dentist also hits a capillary accidentally while numbing and tells me that I will be sore because the tissue is bruised now.

Wait another half an hour. Dentist finally comes back in and rushes through doing my last two fillings in half an hour. She doesn't wait for the numbing medication to fully set in on the bottom before beginning drilling. The cavity was shallow, so I didn't really feel anything, but it was still really weird. I didn't get fully numb until I was checking out.

Also, the assistant kept handing Dentist the wrong tools and things when she asked for them. This happened I think three times.

Before I go, I tell her that one of my teeth feels pokey, and she says, "Pokey? That's weird," like I'm making this shit up or something. But she looks and sees that it is indeed pokey and shaves it down a bit. It still feels kind of funny, like there's a weird edge to it, but it doesn't hurt or anything so whatever.

That brings us to today, when I was eating pretzels and then noticed that the formerly pokey filling was no longer there. There is currently a gaping hole on the inside surface of my top left back molar. I called the office and told them, and they couldn't get me in today.

I don't know why I called, because it's not like I'm ever going back to them, ever ever ever ever. I'm going to go to my family's dentist in Chattanooga on Friday, hopefully, if they can fit me in.

Until then, I have to chew on my right side and rinse every time I eat.

No worries. I'll just be chillin' here with my swiss cheese molar.

Just Call Me Lemony Snicket

Unbelievable. Insane. Ridiculous. Absolutely 100 percent STUPID. These are all things I would use to describe the series of unfortunate events that has occurred in my life over the past few weeks.

Let’s review.

3 weeks ago: Bitten by a brown recluse spider. Ankle swells to twice its normal size. Takes a week to return to normal.

2 weekends ago: Robbed at gunpoint Saturday. In addition, kitten pees on bed when I get home because I had moved his litter box too quickly. Wash bedding Sunday. Email professors and receive extensions on papers. Do nothing for several days. Get behind in all classes. Skip class Tuesday because kitten again pees and poops on clothes and cannot deal with life. Soak clothes overnight in enzyme solution and water and then launder on Wednesday.

Thursday, September 25: Birthday. Universe grants me a brief grace period. Eat tacos. Drink margaritas. Play cards against humanity. Generally have an excellent time.

Four days ago: Receive four more spider bites while studying outdoors at coffee shop. One swells to the size of a doughnut. Not a doughnut hole, the actual whole doughnut. Spend night icing thighs and fighting urge to itch.

Today, 8:30: Wake up late. Eat cereal bar in car.

Today, 9:15: Park in city parking garage. Practicum interview at 9:30. Interviewer is amazing and we spend three hours talking about random shit. She offers me a practicum position (yay!). Forget about therapy appointment at noon. Therapist says she will have to charge me. Also, it is 45 degrees and gusting wind and I am in a skirt.

Today, 12:30: Leave interview to get lunch before my 1:30 meeting. Tell parking garage attendant that my meeting went longer than expected and I only brought enough cash for one hour. Attendant will not let me leave garage. Tells me I must either find an ATM or call someone to bring me money. First incidence of public crying. Find pizza restaurant and ask tearfully for ten dollars. Angel man gives me ten dollars. Pay for parking. Forget receipt. Attendant brings me receipt and opens gate, tells me to have a nice day. Do not look her in the eyes. I am free.

Today, 1:15: Barely make it to meeting. No time to eat lunch. Have not eaten in five hours. Cereal bar was digested at appx. 9:30. Meeting lasts one hour. Cancel second practicum interview.

Today, 2:45: Arrive home. Eat chicken and rice. Put on sweatpants. Watch Netflix. Planning on napping. Cat is acting funny. Smell poop. Go to check litterbox, notice the closet door is shut. How long has it been shut? Long enough for cat to pee thrice and poop once on comforter, which soaked through quilt, flat sheet, and fitted sheet. Thank goodness for my waterproof bed pad. Make mental note to self to close bedroom door when I am not home.

Today, 4:15: At Laundromat to once again wash cat waste out of my bedding. Ask attendant if she has change for a 20 because machine does not accept $20 bills. While she looks for change, the front door blows open due to horrific wind and I go to close it. Somehow, wind blows large clock off wall. Clock falls and hits me on top of the head. Second incidence of public crying. Attendant asks if I need medical assistance. I tell her I’ve just had a rough day.

The universe is testing me. And I am failing.