4 days.

Only 4 days until I can officially say I “live” in California. My friends are dropping off like flies, to this university and that university, and I feel like I’m the only one left. It’s kinda sad, but we all knew this would happen. With the fear, excitement and anticipation of the big move hanging over my head like a cartoon anvil, I’ve been racing to make sure I have everything I need. I shipped 2 huge boxes of stuff to the hotel in CA, and am probably going to ship one more. Clothes, shoes, gadgets are all coming with me on the plane. I plan to take full advantage of our 6 allotted checked bags. But, I can’t pack my clothes until:

1. They’re all clean

2. I won’t need them to look cute during this last week at home.

AKA I’m stalling.

But at least I’m honest.

Boxes, taped and ready to be shipped westward!
Boxes, taped and ready to be shipped westward!

I also think I’m ready. I’ve gone to visit a friend who is attending a university fairly close to home, and, before that, I’d never seen a college campus in “full swing”. I think it’ll be fun to dive into university life when I get there, and I am hoping and praying that it all works out in my favor. But I have few doubts.

Lately I’ve had this sudden and unsolicited hankering to move to New England.. Massachusetts, maybe… It sounds nice. But California is nothing to shake a stick at.

Here’s to hoping I’m doing the right thing.





Things change.
More appropriately for me, sh*t happens.

Sometimes, sh*t happens all at once.

I wasn’t planning on writing all that much about this experience, but, here I am. I have no real reason to complain, but when things don’t work out as you were hoping, I find it helps to vent just a little bit, even if it is to strangers on the internet.

A few months ago, I had made a post on this ever-so-neglected blog of mine, and divulged where I would be attending college. A large, well known, renowned private school in southern California. My dream school since childhood. A beacon of intelligence and excellence in (to me) the greatest city on earth. (L.A.- I don’t care how many people disagree!) However, there is a little thing called “financial aid” that those readers under the age of 18 should get to know real quick. Financial aid can save your life, and it can also ruin it. Unfortunately for me, it was the latter.

Well, I dare to say “ruin”… After all everything happens for a reason. I won’t go into all the dirty details, but what happened was, this big, prestigious, “brand name” school did not provide me with a financial aid award conducive to mine and my family’s needs. Plain and simple. (In fact, they “jipped” me for lack of a better phrase, but who’s bitter? Certainly not me..)

At the time, it felt to me like I had worked so hard to obtain something, then I finally got it, and I was not allowed to enjoy it. Like doing extra chores for a month to save money for a Game Boy. And then you save the money, buy the Game Boy, only to find that you can’t open the box. I held my dream in my own hands, and then felt it become too heavy a burden to hold any longer.

Fortunately for me, I had submitted the commitment deposit at a smaller university in southern California, a stone’s throw from LA with an up-and-coming film program. My choices were to either sell my soul to the devil and live a life of debt to pay off that “brand name” education, or attend a lesser-known (but still reputable) university that I had not even planned on attending (the commitment deposit was a contingency plan barring any unforeseen changes, which inevitably came to pass) nor had given much thought to applying to when application season was upon me. (I submitted the essay requirements the day the application was due… whoops) That being said, this smaller, non “name brand” school offered me a very generous scholarship.

The choice, in the end was clear cut. Though it was not what I originally had in mind for myself, I have decided to attend the smaller, lesser-known school, in place of the “brand name”. Am I complaining about a scholarship? No. Am I kicking myself for moving so far away? A little, but that’s another post. Do I need to check my privilege? Yes, probably. I am extremely lucky and blessed to be able to even say I am attending college at all, let alone pursuing a film degree. So many of my high school classmates were steered by their parents into a business or medical or engineering program, and I am beyond fortunate to have parents who recognize passion.

The moral of the story is, things happen and plans change and the way we envisioned our futures is very rarely the way they shape up to be.

And that is not a bad thing.

Go Panthers.





It’s been a year.

Much has transpired since I last posted on this blog shortly before Christmas last year. Rather than spend 13 paragraphs detailing my life, I felt an update in list form would be much more efficient.

1. I have decided where I’m going to college.


3. I turned 18.

4. Yikes.

5. School is almost over.

6. I couldn’t be happier about that.

7. I couldn’t be more sad about that.

8. I am having some serious struggles planning my graduation party.

9. As I write this, I am simultaneously ordering more Polaroid film.

10. I’ve spent my days half asleep in class, and my nights half asleep at home.

11. I’m going through cycles of complete apathy interspersed with bursts of sudden inspiration and energy.

12. Lately, I’ve been feeling stuck.

13. But I’m also feeling free.

14. This is a time of contradictions for me.

15. Or maybe it isn’t.

16. I’m drinking a passion tea lemonade.

17. I don’t feel like an adult yet.

18. But I want to.

19. I missed writing on this blog.

20. I’m happy to be back.


On the First Day of Christmas…

I have a big family. Really big. Gargantuan. Monolithic. Humongous. Whatever fancy word you’d like to use to describe it. It’s big. Having a big family means it’s almost always a hassle to schedule your Christmas festivities around each other. He’s working this day, she has off that day, but they don’t get off till 6. What are we eating? Who’s house are we going to? What am I bringing? Whose name do I have? Somehow, Christmas on my mother’s side ended up being yesterday (the 22nd). And, so, we ventured south to visit my grandmother (mom’s mom) and her side of the family for the first of four Christmases, sans Vince and Reese. (“Four Christmases”- haha, I sleigh myself…) The Vince joke would actually work.. I have an uncle named Vince who lives out of state and doesn’t get to visit often. Anyhew, the first day of Christmases was smashing and dazzling and extremely cold. Texas is so strange… One day it thinks it’s Arizona, and the next day it thinks it’s Maine. Make up your mind, dude. I won’t bore you with the little details of the day, but I was graciously given some sweaters, socks and a fabulous Kodak “Holiday Flash” Brownie camera from 1956 (40 years before I was born!) Image Also, I would like you all to please behold the glory of my sweater that I made the night before last. Image

Please disregard the dirty counter/mirror, but feel free to bask in the glory that is my sweater. My cousin Kalee and I decided it would be fun to wear “ugly” sweaters to Christmas this year, so, naturally I went all out.  Image

Side Note: I feel the term “ugly” sweater is rather incorrect. This thing is glamorous and magical. 

Hope everyone is having a great holiday season, whatever you celebrate! 



On the First Day of Christmas…

How to Paint a Parking Spot

At my high school, it’s a custom for incoming seniors to purchase an assigned parking spot in the fabled “seniors-only” lot, and paint it with any design or image that pleases their little young adult hearts. As I, myself, am entering my final year of high school, I participated thusly. I waited in line for an hour, spent a little too much money on paint, braved the sweltering Texas-in-August sun, and got to work.


As I’m sure it’s easy to tell, I painted my spot as a giant, vintage looking, and (sadly), non functional camera. I’m in yearbook. I’m a photographer. It made sense. The process was fairly straight forward. Acquire spot. Plan design. Acquire paint. Paint design. And while the process in itself was rather simple, the execution of this process proved otherwise. Paint that likes to get spilled everywhere, brushes that like to get all frayed and gross, sunburns that like to make you look like a freshly boiled lobster. However, with some help from some awesome friends, patience, and a little brie cheese and crackers, this spot here came together just fine. Even though it feels like excessive effort for something I will be parking my car on top of…

Au revoir!


How to Paint a Parking Spot