Manic Mondays: I Bet You Thought You’d Seen the Last of Me

So, I’ve taken a little break from blogging. That’s pretty obvious.

And the truth is, I just wanted to enjoy my time at home with my friends and family during the holiday season. After a whirlwind of food, drinks, and sleeping in until noon, though, my break is slowing coming to an end. As a result, I’ve decided to get back to blogging in attempt to bring some sort of structure back into my life.

Also, I ran into an old friend the other day who complimented my blog and I did feel a pang of guilt knowing that I had abandoned my online journal for a month now (okay, it’s been more than a month… sue me).

First off, I DON’T EVER WANT TO GO BACK TO SCHOOL. I love my friends, I love my college, but the comforts of home (my bed, my cat, my mom giving me her Discover card to go grocery shopping…) are just too appealing to want to leave behind. However, I know I’ll be physically forced to leave in about a week and a half if I’d like to, ya know, graduate, so I should probably make the most of it.

Which brings me to my main point: positivity. It’s officially 2015 (hurray!) and we’ve all grown accustomed to the “New Year, New Me” vibes that seep into our lives as we ring in the new year. And you would think as an over-thinking, somewhat cynical brat (for lack of a better, more appropriate word) that I would be repulsed by these type of hopeful resolution-ers, right? But, for some reason I feel the exact opposite.

I recently posted this on my Instagram (mostly because my thoughts couldn’t be shoved into 140 characters):

And I really mean all of that. Who has the audacity to make fun of or be annoyed by someone who is trying to better themselves in the new year? Of course, many of those people will have a cheeseburger this week, or stop going to Zumba by, like, January 19th, but who has the right to put them down for trying?

So, as I said above, I fully support all your resolutions and goal-making, regardless of how corny they may seem. Heck, maybe I’ll even try to cut fast food out of my diet completely. Not likely… I’ve been craving some McNuggets like no other lately.

But, you still get my point. I think it’s important to try to be a better person every day you wake up, not just on January 1st. And the people who tell you otherwise or laugh at your ambitions are clearly not the type of people you want to be around in 2k15 anyway.

On that note… Cheers to the New Year!


The One Thing Any Stressed-Out Girl Should Do


There it is. The One Thing Any Stressed-Out Girl Should Do: make lists.

I’ve come to find out my life will literally crumble into shambles if I don’t compose a list for every single aspect. Lists for school work, lists for activities, lists for groceries. The list of lists goes on and on.

And, no matter how seemingly obnoxious or unnecessary it may appear, any fellow-lister knows how important it is. List-making leads one’s brain into forgetting how to accomplish tasks unless those tasks are written down in a vertical formation and crossed off upon completion. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: it’s science.

During my first week back to school, I was busy settling in and I didn’t have time to go to the bookstore for a few days, and therefore did not purchase a new planner for a few days. Boy, was I in a tizzy. My brain was FREAKING OUT. I needed the calming sensation of writing down my daily tasks.

This bring me to the topic of my best friend: my planner. She’s always there for me and she never complains, and that’s really all someone like me needs in a friend.

I write down everything in my planner. I’m not exaggerating. Ev-er-y-thing. Even the most minute details of my day get transcribed in that little, spiral notebook. I write things down like, “Shower,” and “Cut toenails.” It’s honestly disturbing that I need to remind myself to perform simple, hygienic actions, but I’m seriously wondering if they would be overlooked without the reminder…

Sorry, that was gross. But, you get the point. And anyone that is a fellow list-addict knows how satisfying list-making is. Without a doubt, the most satisfying part is the crossing off. Most of the things that I write down are written simply so that I can cross them off. “Wake up before noon.” DONE. And just like that, I feel like an accomplishing rock star only minutes after I open my eyes.

My planner. Seriously, what is wrong with me?

My planner. Seriously, what is wrong with me?

So, my advice to any 20-something nut job like myself, is to make lists like crazy. Buy yourself a cute, little planner and make it your best friend. Write down things like, “Brush teeth,” and enjoy the celebratory dance your inner list-maker will do when you accomplish your task. I promise you that you’ll get some sort of nerdy high every single time you cross something off your list.

If you don’t, you probably shouldn’t be reading my blog, anyway.

Just Another Manic Monday

Everyone complains about Mondays. This isn’t ground-breaking, earth-shattering, Laura Meyers original material. But isn’t it truly so hard to get back into the swing of things after the weekend?

Every Monday morning I feel as though my entire self rejects the idea of being a functioning member of society. There is something in nearly all of us that wishes the weekend would last just a minute longer.

Couldn't have said it better myself, Magz.

Couldn’t have said it better myself, Magz.

I know I’m not the only one who spends the majority of my Friday afternoons- Sunday evenings doing as little as humanly possible. The less productive I am, the more weekend-y I feel.

Sad, but true.

Sad, but true.

But, even if I haven’t been a complete waste of space all weekend, I still feel the heavy struggle of the word “weekday” on my shoulders when Monday morning rolls around.

So, with a little lyrical inspiration, I’ve decided to start blogging about my Manic Mondays every week. I’m sure everyone wants an excuse to stop pretending they’re doing work anyway, so read my blog instead.

Today (shockingly) hasn’t been a horrendous day. However, it is only 3 p.m. eastern time, meaning there’s still ample time for my day to take an unsurprising turn towards mania. I’ll be sure to complain about it later if it does.