Mode for Misanthropes

While I don't readily identify with either introverts or extroverts, I do identify with sweatpants. Or really any other fashion item comfortable enough to accommodate a Friday night (or any other night, really) spent on my couch with a book and sea salt caramel gelato.

And apparently I'm not the only one.

The art and apparel company Stay Home Club boasts a full range of sweats and t-shirts and art prints glorifying the reclusive, bratty, misanthropic introvert in all of us.

Plus, it's all pretty dope. Especially that potato chip necklace. And the Stay Home and Watch Buffy Tote? Will. Be. Mine.

America, the Commercial

Last Sunday was the Super Bruno Mars concert Bowl, and during what was arguably the most disappointing game ever, I along with lots of millions of other people saw the Coke commercial. 

And listen. I wasn't going to say anything at first. I really wasn't. I was just going to let it go. 

But then, uniformed, ignorant posts kept showing up on my Facebook news feed. Along with an absolutely ridiculous, grossly under-researched, and entirely offensive article. And the more I was confronted with the idiocy of it all, the angrier I got. 

You can read the article I'm referring to here. 

Apparently, there are several people, including Ms. Barnes here, that are a little angry and offended by this commercial. You know - the one where like, all these funny looking people with weird foreign accents started singing in a different language. 

So mad, in fact, that they go on an entirely biased, unreliable news outlet and churn out a piece on 'redefining America.' 

Guys. 

Ugh. 

Now I'm not going to point out every single thing that's just - wrong - with this piece, like the fact that apparently male role model is a negative term that's all but bastardized the word father, because it's neither here nor there. Instead, I'll just say this.

First of all, every single day, this country gets redefined. If it didn't, I still wouldn't have the right to vote and my mom's black best friend would have to use a separate bathroom. History is reactionary and demands that culture be accepting of inevitable change. As the world shifts, the way things look and operate shift as well. America as we know it now is an amorphous, albeit accommodating place, that does, in fact LOOK FRIGGIN DIFFERENT than it did when the Puritans wandered over here from Europe. And BY THE WAY - in case you forgot Sarah Barnes, the damn place wasn't empty when they got here. Lots of people with dark skin who spoke tribal languages THAT WERE NOT ENGLISH and worshipped a multitude of gods and animals had already set up shop and were doing just fine until white dudes showed up with polio-infested blankets and started handing them out to cold children. (THAT HAPPENED. READ A BOOK).  

Secondly - if we're going with the definition of 'Murica, let us not forget that our founding fathers, the ones so readily referenced when talking about patriotism, did in fact define America in specific terms. Those terms were things like, oh, tolerance. Freedom to worship without fear of persecution. These were men who came out of an era of intellectual awakening called The Enlightenment whose principles were based upon rationality and reason. NOT blind ignorance and bigotry. 

I'm sorry that you're a little miffed at the notion that not every single person who lives in this country looks, sounds, dresses, prays, fights, loves, dances, cooks, eats, and works exactly like you for the same reason that you do. I'm even more sorry that you're the type of person who's offended by that. 

The Red, White and Blue doesn't mean what you think it means anymore. And if we're being honest, it never did. Do you even remember Ellis Island? Or the fact that your own families immigrated here? We are all transplants. And that doesn't in any way make us less patriotic. Choosing to alienate entire groups of people based on race or ethnicity was a common theme in like, WWII, I think. And we were pretty against it then, from what I remember when I was doin' all that learnin' in them public schools. 

Not only are you coming across as ignorant, you're also coming across as an asshole, so disconnected from the vast scope of human experience that you refuse to acknowledge the fact that this country has never, and will never be homogenous. 

If I ever feel proud to be an American, it's in those times when I feel like we've stood together, expressed global tolerance, attempted to be inclusionary, and shown that we're capable of opening our minds to ideas that were scary or new.  

It's not that America doesn't want you, Ms. Barnes. We aren't asking you to agree with or join up with or accept some crazy gay-loving, women-have-rights-too, everyone deserves to be treated with dignity and respect ideology. We're simply asking for 2 seconds of brief consideration. Consideration of the notion that there isn't one idea of America and that that's what makes it beautiful. 

And while we're at it, if you really want to start defining or undefining or redefining or whatever it was you were talking about in your bitter diatribe, maybe you should open up one of those book shaped things and check out what liberty actually means. Because last time I checked, exclusionary, ignorant, hateful, and close-minded were NOT synonymous with ANY of the values that this country was founded on. Unless you're Anita Baker, in which case your entire ridiculous article would start to make sense.

I understand that I'm approaching this as someone who isn't say, in the military. And my values and therefore persepctive are clearly different than someone who has decided to sacrifice their time and lives to defend the nation. But because I am accepting and open to new people and cultures and ideas that are presented to me right here at home, does not make me any less of a patriot. Multiculturalism is not a liability. And it doesn't make me any less proud to live here. 

It does, however, make me much less proud of you.

Black Magic

It's Wednesday! It's Wednesday!

That means 2 things. One, American Horror Story: Coven comes back on. Two, Stevie Nicks is going to be on the show tonight. And there are very few things on this Earth I love more than Stevie Nicks. I'm talking like, Talenti gelato and new socks. That's it.

One of the many great things about the show, aside from maybe Evan Peters' guttural moaning, is the constant parade of amazing black outfits. So in honor of tonight's witchy women, I'm bringing you lots of black clothes that I wish were hanging in my closet but aren't because I'm an intern. And also lots of Stevie pictures because Rhiannon and Fleetwood Mac and tambourines and stuff.

Also, pardon the lack of cohesion. I sleepy.

Scattered, Smothered and Covered: Why Waffle House Matters

I don't remember when my mom and dad started taking my brother and me to Waffle House on Saturday mornings. But I remember it being one of my absolute favorite things to do. The hard backed booths with their padded red vinyl cushions. The sticky, glass sugar dispensers and the sizzle of shredded potatoes thrown on grease that somehow magically transformed into a glorious, glistening, golden brown pile of hash browns that in my 20 some odd years on this earth I have yet to see properly replicated anywhere.

It was a staple of nutritional deficiency and a complete disregard for our arteries.



And it was heaven on a weekend morning.

As I've gotten older, Waffle House has become less of place to have a meal and more of a place to have a life. It's been the backdrop of 3am arguments and life-changing conversations with best friends. Its parking lot has seen the rise and fall of one of the most substantial relationships of my life, and when I came back from Jacksonville, terrified to go out into the world and do anything, I was still able to meet a dear friend at midnight at Waffle House and guzzle cheap coffee from the same iconic mug my mom and dad drank from when I was kid. Innumerable games of checkers have been played on grease-laden table tops and some of the most willing, listening ears belonged to the waitresses that worked the graveyard shift.

The waitresses, old and young, faces always deeply lined with a life of potentially poor decision-making, and voices invariably gruff from too many smoke breaks, are always willing to talk. Despite the fact that it's Christmas and they have to work. Despite the fact that your brain is shellacked with booze and you're just trying to consume enough fat and salt to stave off an inevitable hangover, they're always willing to chat. And Waffle House waitresses always, ALWAYS have a past. Whether you feel like listening or not, as soon as you saddle up to the booth, you're committed to hearing about pieces of it.

It's a place you can go and always feel like you have company, whether someone's sitting across from you or not. A little um, drunk? Come on in. Don't feel like getting dressed, or cooking for yourself, or showering? Fear not - at Waffle House, you're still likely to be the most attractive person there.

It's a church confessional for those of us who don't have dress shoes - just pajama pants and too many shots of cheap whiskey, and desire to talk to someone who doesn't know you at all. It's the cheat day for your diet.

And it's the absolute best cup of coffee you can get for $1.

Quintessential Depressing Break-Up Song List

Scour the internet and you will find no end to the break-up mixes. Songs full of angry lyrics about keying cars and being strooon-ger (Britney? Anyone? Okay). For those who are able to transition immediately into that phase of the break-up, kudos. You bypassed the crappy part completely. Count your lucky stars that you made a beeline straight into rage.

Unfortunately, for the rest of us, all that anger requires lots of effort, and when you've been blown apart by a break-up and every step you take throughout the day physically aches, sometimes you just don't have it in you to get there. All you have the energy to do is cry because everything else seems daunting and weird.

These songs my friends, all clickable and ready for your listening pleasure,  are for those moments.

These aren't meant to empower you to get up out of your sweatpants and face the world. These songs are your official permission to wallow.

Do What You Have to Do - Sarah McLachlan - So Sarah will reappear again on this list because her voice is stunning and beautiful, and it's able to capture the delicacy and desperateness of grief. And that's what break-ups are for some people - episodic, annihilating moments of grief.
Knee-buckling lyric: And I have the sense to recognize, that I don't know how to let you go.

Simple Together - Alanis Morissette - If you're willing to endure the gut-wracking sobs that this song will likely induce, it's one of the most accurate break-up songs ever written. It's about the precious, crystalline hopes you go into a relationship with, and how awkward, displaced, and empty-handed you feel when it's over. It's the way she sings the words. They're long and wailing. And let's be honest, if anyone knows about pain, it's Alanis Morisette. Prepare the tissues, ladies.
Knee-buckling lyric: I can't go to you for consolation, cuz we're off limits during this transition. This grief overwhelms me. It burns in my stomach. And I can't stop bumping into things.

Shadow of Love - She & Him - Alright, now that that's over, pull yourself up off the floor. It's gonna be fine. She & Him tend to make even the most depressing situations light and pastel. But this song, still in typical mid-century fashion, actually feels like a break-up song. It's haunting, but still soothing somehow, thanks to that thing Zooey does where her voice is perfect. It's also matter-of-fact. It's all the hard edges of an ending.
Knee-buckling lyric: We should have known, love's as brittle as a broken bone. 

Throw Me a Rope - KT Tunstall - This is just a beautiful song. The girl singing it isn't broken; she's lost and waiting for the time to pass. Which it never seems to do after a break-up. Because it's an asshole.
Knee-bucking lyric: So throw me a rope, to hold me in place. Show me a clock, for counting my days down. Cuz everything's easier when you're beside me. So come back and find me, cuz I feel alone. 
(Close second: And whenever you go, it's like holding my breath underwater.)

Wreck of the Day - Anna Nalick - If you are dealing with the end of the relationship, I'm just going to go ahead and recommend this entire album. It's really good. But this song is about a girl that is exhausted. And discouraged. And has thrown her hands up in the air, because seriously, what the hell else are you supposed to do? It's not crippling, but it's honest.
Knee-buckling lyric: Desperately close to a coffin of hope, I'd cheat destiny just to be near you. 

Foolish Games - Jewel - If you're sensing a heavy 90's theme here, it's because there kinda is one. But only because that seemed to be a decade where a lot of grrrls were getting broken up with and writing songs about it. I guess they're still doing that now, they're just all really shitty. This one is a classic. It's so good, so sad, so 90's. So everything you need to walk you through your misery. Also, the video is ridiculous and amazing.
Knee-buckling lyric: Well, excuse me. Guess I've mistaken you for somebody else. Somebody who gave a damn. Somebody more like myself.

Full of Grace - Sarah McLachlan - Welcome back, Sarah. We've missed you. This song is so, so sad, but so incredible. Another 90's staple, I first heard this song on Buffy (see: Joss before The Avengers, best writing on TV ever). This is rock-bottom, ladies. She wrote this from a dark well of despair and somehow managed to turn it into beautiful music. I'd only listen to it once though, because you do have to stop crying sometime.
Knee-buckling lyric: I feel just like I'm sinking, and I claw for solid ground. I'm pulled down by the undertow, never thought I could feel so low.

Shine - Anna Nalick - So if you've made it through the list and you're aren't too teary-eyed and wine (or whiskey, whatever) drunk, get up and listen to this. It's Anna Nalick again, because I love her. And also because she's asking you to get over it, in a way that's poetic and empowering. Honestly, I know it hurts. Everywhere. All the time. Blind-siding you in the car and the shower and everywhere else. But you're kinda not serving the world by staying huddled up in your house mourning over a situation/a person/a life you just weren't meant for. So cry and cry and scream and don't get dressed and hate him and ache and grieve. But then stop. And listen to this.
And because now you're up off the floor: And I think you need to stop following misery's lead. Shine away, shine away, shine away. And isn't it time you got over how fragile you are? We're all wait, waiting for your supernova.

So. Before I go. Let's review.

Don't think it's okay to spend forever in this deep hole. Do allow yourself to be sad. Don't fight it. Let it be. Ride the grief. And one day, out of nowhere, you'll wake up and feel like yourself again.

That's what I hear, anyway.

Sex Sells to Women

"So much of what makes good writing is rhythm, the stop and start of a sentence. That's also what makes good sex."

-courtesy of The Daily Beast

Cool your jets, guys. It's not what you think. Well, I guess it kind of is.

I was reading my copy of Elle last night (because I have time to do that now!) and I ran into a tiny little insert announcing the release of Adult by founder and Editor-in-Chief Sarah Nicole Prickett - a new magazine labeled as 'female erotica' because it features sexy ladies in various states of nakedness. Not unlike Playboy, it's also slated to feature poetry, essays and interviews. But unlike Playboy, those things are slightly more likely to be read. Also it has recipes. Does Playboy have recipes? I dunno.

"The first issue of Adult," she says, "has such a retrospective feeling because it's full of all the things I was concerned about this year—surveillance, [the government] reading e-mails, censorship, Florida, which was a trending topic for half the year." She warns (and laughs), "It's incredibly dense and takes forever to read… you can't flip through it, really." -courtesy of The Daily Beast

While Elle seemed genuinely excited about it, it's getting mixed reviews online in terms of whether or not it should actually be considered transgressive and feminist. And since I don't happen to own a copy, I can't really say for sure whether I agree or disagree with this statement.

What I do know is that its feminist slant is slightly skewed by the 'male gaze' under which the photo spreads are shot. The images circulating online show examples of women essentially waiting to be taken or tied or untied - waiting to be acted UPON rather than the opposite. This is probably because the photo editor is male. I'm also a little confused as to why a magazine of female erotica or porn or whatever features so few penises and so many lady bits. Don't get me wrong, I can appreciate a woman's body and the power that can come from owning your sensuality, which I'd wager is kind of at the nucleus of this magazine.

But I also feel like it should be recognized that women enjoy taking part in voyeuristic bedtime reading just as much as men.

Image via The New Republic

Adult doesn't really seem to cater to women anymore than Playboy does, minus a few pictures of dudes.

On the flip side of all this is my annoyance at the fact that because the women in the magazine do seem to be in mostly submissive positions, they can't also be seen as feminist.

Ok, stop. I know that submissiveness isn't used as a way to describe feminists, like, ever. But feminism is marginalizing enough as it is without shaming an entire category of fetish/fantasy. Some women just get more turned on when they feel submissive. I don't think it necessarily makes them less empowered as women if it's how they feel most comfortable expressing themselves sexually. 

I guess I've just always felt a little uncomfortable with this all or nothing bullshit when it comes to what it means to be a feminist. To me, women making the decision to trust a man enough to be submissive, IF IT'S WHAT SHE WANTS, is feminist. The inverse of this would also be true. It's the woman's ability to DECIDE what she likes that gets the feminist stamp of approval.

And hopefully in upcoming issues of Adult, all sides of female sexuality - the dark, the sweet, the fucked up, the typical - will be explored and exposed in a way that honors the fact that ladies like getting some, too. And not because it sells something, but because it satisfies them.

Image via The New Republic

As a woman and consumer, and also as someone who hasn't actually seen the inside of this magazine, I'd like to hope it features pieces that stand leaps and bounds above the giant, not at all literary, pile of crap known as Fifty Shades of Grey, instead featuring commanding, curious and empowering pieces written by women of the same type.

Oh - Other noteworthy features of Adult (courtesy of The Daily Beast): an aphrodisiac breakfast recipe and an exploration of Erica Jong's 'zipless fuck' concept by Katharine Bernard.

So ladies, what say you? Would you read Adult? 

*It should be noted that at the end of the review in The Daily Beast, it was stated that the editors of Adult don't define the magazine as solely for women.

Fall Semester is Like that Horror Movie with the Girls in the Cave

I feel like the girl in the (almost)last scene of The Descent - you know that super claustrophobic movie where the girls go explore the cave and all the scenes are of them in suffocating crawl spaces, super close-up? Well, after like 2 hours of zoomed-in, can't-breathe shots, and drowning in a thick, mucus-y vat of blood, the main girl claws her way out, drives her hands up through the glorious Earth, all dramatic-like, and finally breathes in fresh air, taking in the vast blue sky.

I feel like that girl. Except this semester has been the shitty, dank cave with monsters in it, and my geology class was the gross blood pool, and the feeling of submitting my last paper was not unlike taking a breath for the first time 4 months.

It's a beautiful thing.

Me at the end of the semester

25 Things for My 26th Year

So my birthday was yesterday and I was lucky enough to ring in another year of my being on the earth with ferris wheels and raspberry cake and sparklers and best friends and rice krispy treat fondue and American Horror Story and fall weather and my favorite people in the world. Pretty dope, no?

sparklers. and raspberry cake.

For whatever reason, my birthday always feels like more of a new beginning than New Year because it's right at the start of a new season, and I'm a year older which means a part of me is actually, new. I'd like to think so anyway. I'd like to think that over the course of a year I've morphed into a more functional, emotionally stable, financially secure person. People in hell want ice water though, so I guess we can't have everything.

What I DO have is this fresh, dewy hope that the next year of my life will be full - of love and learning and more rice krispy treats.

And if I'm really lucky, I'll get to cross some of these things off, too.

25 Things for My 26th Year

1. Get outside - These days, I go from my bed, to sitting in my car to get to work, to sitting at my desk, to sitting back in my car to get home, to my other desk to do homework, then back to my bed. My life right now is just transitioning from one little box to another. I need fresh air, I need dirty bare feet. And bike rides and camping trips and long walks.

2. Forgive more quickly - I've had this thing about me for pretty much my whole life where if you've hurt me at all, I don't forget it. And in fact use it as a reason to stagnate and not trust and do all sorts of other psychologically damaging activities. But I think I'm over that now. I'm ready to feel light and open. And I can't do that if I'm white knuckling every bad thing that's ever happened to me.

3. Hold on to nothing - see above. Life is this ephemeral, slippery thing. And nothing lasts at all. It's taken me a long time to figure this out. But I'm starting to get it. It all tastes sweeter because you know it's gonna be gone.

4. Do drugs before I'm too old to be reckless and irresponsible - I'm not talking about heroin and meth guys. Jesus. But I need to tune in and drop out before I'm like, 30 or whatever. Free yo' mind, man.

5. See the West coast - Ugh. Seriously. There really is no excuse for my being in my mid-20's and not having visited the other side of the Mississippi. None. It's actually embarrassing to type. I want to see Oregon. Or Washington. Or California. And I will.

6. Leave the country - This is a big one. I want to go somewhere where I'm completely uncomfortable. Where I can't lean on language and familiarity to navigate myself. I'm of the firm belief that travel, the big kind, is required for the growth of the soul. Call it hippy-dippy if you want, but it's true. I want to feel small. I want to be forced to recognize that the United States is but a teeny speck on this vast planet.

7. Turn my internship into a paid writing job - aside from being absolutely necessary for all the aforementioned trips I'm apparently going to be taking, I'M TIRED OF WRITING FOR FREE. I want to make a living doing what I love doing. And I'm still under the delusion that that's a possibility. I'm young and free in America. And I will follow my destiny. Even if that means writing for a teeny newspaper or editing a community magazine or being a writing/literacy tutor.

8. Write. Everyday. Like it is my job - This is self explanatory. Writers write. It's that simple. People who wait around for a reason to write aren't writers. They're waiters. (That's not mine. I read it somewhere. But it's awesome. And true.)

Not a waiter.

9. Visit my dad more - I can't run from it forever. And I have so many things I need to tell him. Even if I'm just talking to stone.

10. Be patient with myself - I hold myself to the most impossible expectations. And then subsequently let myself down when I don't live up to them. It's not healthy. And I wanna spend the next year knocking that shit off.

11. Move - This one is mandatory. If I stay in the apartment I am in now, I will start inflicting property damage on the place. It's a horrible, tiny space filled with negativity and bad memories and it's time ta-go.

12. Go back to yoga - More specifically hot yoga. Aside from running, hot yoga is the most amazing, relaxing, painful, challenging, rewarding workout ever. I miss how I felt when I used to do it all the time.

13. Volunteer somewhere - so it turns out that sometimes I can be a pretty self-centered bee-yotch. We all can be actually. We all spend most of our time operating under the assumption that our problems are the biggest, most awfulest, DEFINITELY most important things going on in the whole of the universe. They're not. And the best way to be reminded of that is to go and spend time with people who could use your help, your time, your love, your hands. I want to help. I want to step outside myself and give something back. Maybe at a women's shelter, maybe for a literacy program. Just something.

14. Finish another semester of school - because this freaking degree isn't gonna earn itself.

15. Read Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace - it's just a thing, ya know? Like the Mount Everest of the literary crowd. Or the Himalayas. Or Mt. Kilimanjaro. Or anything off of Man vs. Food.

16. Hike a piece of the Appalachian Trail - I only live a few hours from the damn thing. Someone come with me.

17. Karaoke - this has more to do with learning to not care what people think about me than just marking something like this off a list. I tend to get paralyzed by people's perception of me. So this is a call to arms friends, let's do eeet.

18. Go to a professional hockey game - I've just never been to one. I wanna see ice and violence way up close.

19. Study French - cuz why not. I think it sounds kinda beautiful.

20. Practice kindness - as far as Audrey Hepburn and I are concerned, this is one of the best anti-aging regimens there is. I never feel better or healthier than when I've done something for the sheer sake of being kind. And I want to make it a point to do it more.

21. Foster female friendships - so for most of my life, most of my friends have been of the penis-having variety. It's not because, "oh god, girls just don't like me. I hate drama lolz." It's just the way the chips fell. I ended up with a handful of amazing guy friends who I adore to the ends of the Earth. But that doesn't mean that I don't crave time with my girlfriends. There's just this innate understanding between girls. You immediately feel less alone. And there's power in that. I don't spend enough time with the smart, strong, inspiring, wonderful women in my life.

22. Not be such a raging asshole when I'm driving - mostly because I'm getting closer to the age where I could just start having heart attacks. Something happens to me when I'm driving. Something dark and evil that only comes out when I'm face to face with such profound stupidity that I really believe I could inflict violence on someone. Turns out it's not that healthy. So I'm working on it.

23. Listen to my grandmother's stories - God, my grandmother is the coolest, best person I know. And she tells the best stories. One of my favorite things to do is to get in the car with her and go somewhere and listen to her tell me about how she grew up, what the 60's were like, how my mom was when she was little. It reminds me where I come from. And I never want to forget that. I don't do it enough. But I'm going to start.

24. Cook more - it's therapeutic. And healthy. And I'm good at it. I just need an adorable kitchen in a little loft apartment to do it in.

25. Stop apologizing - Gah. Women are so good at this. And it's sooo lame. If I have nothing to be sorry about, I'm not apologizing. If I don't have time to hang out or I don't feel like making the drive or I don't want to see you or I simply say no - I do not have to apologize for it.

Here's to 26.
xo.

2 Things You Absolutely Need to Know About Right Now

I am having to dig deep down into the wells of my energy reserves to pull up whatever bit of gumption I have left to write this blog for you guys. But I'm willing to do that. Because I love you. And I love that you actually read my blog.

I really am so attractive right now.

My exhaustion cocktail is made up of equal parts sleep depravation, horrifying geology homework - hours and hours and hours of topography and dendritic streams and wanting to off myself to justmakeitstop - and regular homework, and an absolutely amazing internship that requires I wake up nearly 3 hours before I have to be there because Atlanta traffic is that bad. Most of the time I don't know what day it is. And the only reason I can keep up with all the things I have to do is because I make my to-do lists in the shower.

But just know that despite all that, I am like, really happy - oh what a gorgeous day it is happy. For the first time in what seems like months. And ya know, I'm grateful for the stupid geology and Atlanta traffic that I sit in knowing I'm going to do something I absolutely love.

Oh and also, I'm really grateful for these 2 things.

Dr. Lipp Nipple Balm for Lips aaaand
The Artic Monkeys new album AM. 

See below for details.

Image courtesy of Smoochblog

Let's just go ahead and start talking about the nipple balm. It's not actually for your nipples. Or well, I guess it is. It was originally formulated for nursing moms and their sore, er, nipples. But by some twist of fate, someone decided to rub it on their mouth and discovered what an amazing lip balm it is and marketed it.

No, I'm serious.

Anyways, I suffer from the debilitating affliction known as chapped, peel-y lips. It's not just a winter thing. I deal with it all year. And I've tried about a jillion different balms and salves and this is the ONLY ONE that's made a difference on my perennial wind-burn mouth. It's not sticky or pigmented, so guys can use it too, and it doesn't cause tiny strands of hair to stick to your lips if you want to drive with the windows down. It also just does this thing to your lips where it makes them the perfect color for your complexion. It's a mystery of modern science that you're just going to have to learn about for yourself.

But I absolutely recommend that you do.

Secondly....

Oh those English boys. I didn't ever think I had like a type or anything. But apparently, musically, I do. And they are it. It has nothing to do with the above photo. But it totally helps.

I was a little behind jumping on the Artic Monkeys band wagon, but it turns out there's a reason why people love them so much. They're really friggin' good.

I cannot stop listening to this album. I'm not a music reviewer or anything, but I know what music is supposed to do to people, and the songs on AM do it. They crawl and lag and ache and when I listen to them in my car with the windows all the way down, the world suspends itself for a little bit and all I can hear is Alex Turner singing "wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust..." on I Wanna Be Yours. Please, Alex, be my vacuum cleaner. Or my dishwasher. Or my Swiffer. Or anything you want.

Other standouts that you absolutely must go listen to right now? Arabella. Do I Wanna Know? Knee Socks.

But definitely Do I Wanna Know.

Let it lull you to sleep like I'm about to. Because my eyes are barely open and I don't have the energy to correct my typos anymore.

Goodnight, loves.

xo.

Zoya + You Knew Me When

Photo courtesy of Nylonmag.com

Every time a beauty product helps endorse literature, an angel gets its wings.

Maybe not, but a blogger definitely gets fodder for her blog.

For all intents and purposes, I tend to consider myself an intellectual. I gorge on books and information and spend most of my days in a never-ending pursuit of knowledge. I seek to constantly expand my perspective.

That doesn't mean though, when the new issue of Elle comes out that I don't run to store and pick it up and proceed to read it cover to cover immediately. Because I totally do.

But these 2 parts of my personality tend to remain distinct and distant from one another on a day-to-day basis.

Unless something like this happens. Natural nail polish brand Zoya has teamed up with author Emily Liebert to create a line of nail polish colors inspired by characters in her new novel You Knew Me When. 

Don't even act like that pine tree green isn't supah chic. Because it is.

Not only does this make me want to buy all three colors, but it also makes me want to buy the book. Someone's marketing team knows what they're doing.

Have you guys read the book yet? Thoughts?

Totally unrelated question: If my occupation is technically student, and I develop carpal tunnel as a result of taking SO MANY PAGES OF NOTES OHMYGOD, shouldn't I be able to file Worker's Comp? University of West Georgia, I'm lookin at you here.

xo.