Adulthood entails voting, smoking, paying bills, eating healthy/veggies, paying taxes, worrying, leaving zits alone, parallel parking properly, tattoos, getting excited about vacuum cleaners and remembering to take your vitamins. And nothing says "Welcome to adulthood, you'll be fine!" like a survival kit.

Though very sarcastic in nature, this kit was well intended. And while I know I'm just a few seconds into my adulthood adventure, an adulthood survival kit (one with real money instead of fake money, preferably) would have been very helpful. But for a friends 18th birthday (and a desperately needed outlet for my creative energy), the not-so-helpful adulthood survival kit was essential.

used best for cuts, scratches and broken hearts.
as in candy, because it's not that kind of box.
jk its rly expensive, so we included some fake money to
 help and also coupons for a free profile photo.
Because socks always go missing and that's a 
fact of life all adults must accept.
don't worry, talking to her dad first is a part of the treatment plan.
strictly for lighting birthday candles and roman candles, 
even though legal lung cancer is now an option.

So if you ever find yourself with an abundant supply of tick tacks, red paper and red stickers, one fabulous white gel pen, fake money, a lighter, socks, bandages, candy and great life advice (Eat your veggies, pay your bills, and call your mom once a month.), and a friend entering adulthood, maybe you should make an adulthood-survival kit too.

And make me one while you're at it. Because I need all the help I can get.


I'm sure you've all been wondering, what is she going to do with her life?? And for those of you who automatically assumed that I would continue living in my over-saturated, iced coffee la-la land...well you're only half right. 

This post was originally going to be about my bathrobe that I love other mid-summer favorites. But in the course of opening my computer and logging in (jk, who even has time to log out these days?) it morphed into a mid-summer state of the union. But I'll probably talk about the bathrobe at some point because its really comfy.

Last year when my parents proposed a gap year, I was vehemently apposed the idea of taking a year away from social events for a calm interlude between high school and college. Which apparently God thought my opinion was funny because lol, here I am. And not only that, but after the dramatic turn of events that ensued this past school year, nothing sounds better than not having to worry about decorating a dorm room or climbing yet another social ladder.

So what am I doing? I'M STAYING HOME.

That's hard, humbling and not what I want in the least. But it's what God has for me and moreover, it's what I need. I need time to heal, time to grow and time to rest, both physically and in God's grace.   50% of my friends are leaving for school, the rest are embarking on the great journey that is senior year.  Through this whole process I have come to realize that my journey is my own. Which sounds very cliche and obnoxiously new age but it's true! What is right for one friend might not be right for me. A choice they make in their life might not be what God has planned for me.

And that it's okay that life is that way.
And I'm learning to be okay with that. 

I picked these photos for this post because they're cute and also, significant. Because, during that week, I realized that serving God is less about what I pictured and more about how I fit into His big picture. And thankfully for my instagram feed, He has me in my over-saturated la-la land for a little while longer.

PS: Previous state of the union, oh so official.


The one thing (besides math) that I'll never understand? How girls get attached to their hair.

I'm not sure if I'm in the minority or the majority or if anyone actually cares, but it's always confused me. There are girls who can't imagine anything other than long, luscious locks and other girls who are  at peace with pixie cuts. And while I threatened to shave my head for a good long while, (drama queen), I ended up with a mild, mid length chop that feels just right and only slightly rebellious.
I've been growing my hair out since I was fifteen for the sole purpose of having a drastic haircut. Talk about desperate for attention!  My hairstylist, bless his heart, commented on it, "I've never seen someone so excited!" And every time he thought he was finished, I'd have him cut off more. It was incredibly thrilling (and oddly cathartic) to see what had once been my sweaty pony tail or my dutch braids in a pile on the floor.

So if your life is ever stressful, forget the long walk on the beach or the relaxing bubble bath, go get your hair cut off!

The first documentation of my new, improved, and much less dead hair was at the local art museum. The museum, though ambitious for our sleepy town,  was kind of a flop because we do not live in an artistically inclined area of Florida/The USA/The World and it was also at least 1083403 degrees outside (and inside) and I wore jeans.

But we had fun face-swapping with the pieces and pondering what deep emotions the artist was trying to convey through the comical and perplexing portraits that graced the gallery walls.

But mostly face-swapping.
THANK YOU TO....The random local artist for so 
many incredible face swaps and a killer snapchat story.

THANK YOU TO...Matt, my hairstylist, for doing his best to 
set me up with the cute boy in the chair across from me.

THANK YOU TO....Mom and dad for the $$$ so I didn't
 have to wing this haircut and pull a midnight-youtube-tutorial-fueled chop.

THANK YOU TO....Sarah for documenting this adventure and for 
enduring such an interesting and haunting museum with me.

AND FINALLY....Thank you to Jesus for not making me be attached to my hair. 
Life is way to short to fall in love with split ends. 

NEWS FLASH: Still scared of fireworks

I can't tell if this face is cute or more along the lines of "Omg I'm about to kill the neighbors because they bought everything in the freaking Phantom Fireworks store."

Your call.

Tray tables up, bandanas on.

I mean, we shouldn't be surprised that I like this look. I've grown up on airplanes, I can sleep better in the middle seat than I do in my own bed and I know full well that you never inflate your life vest inside the aircraft.

That being said, this look is confusing. Is it western, cowboy bandana vibes in full swing? Or is it a flight attendant style, parked best with prepackaged peanuts? Or a rich grandma from New England, one who embodies Martha Steward in every sense (except the being a criminal sense)? Is it a necktie, a scarf, a neck scarf, a bandana or ???

So many questions. If only we had a safety information video to answer them all and set us straight. But since we are not that fortunate, you'll just have to wing it like me and hope and pray you pull off the flight attendant look, outside of an airport and on the ground. As far as purchasing little squares of material to tie around your neck for an instagram photo, Urban and Zara have some first class options. But if you're more of a coach or on a desperate occasion, cargo kind of girl like myself, Walmart and Target should do the trick.

Bon Voyage friends! Just remember, even if the bag does not inflate, oxygen will be flowing.


A friend texted me while I was in the DR, asking where I was and if I would meet the crew at Starbucks later that night. And while Starbucks did sound wonderful (grande peach tea with 2 sugars and 2 splendas) I told him that I was busy suffering for Jesus with Strawberry mango tea and only one splenda.

Minus the part about the tea.

 "You're in the DR? That's SO cool! I've always wanted to go there. It's where the Kardashians go! " 

Well. Okay then.

I mean, Idk, I consider myself pretty on top of things as far as trendy travel destinations are concerned and I hadn't heard much about the Dominican Republic, aside from 8th grade geography class. And I currently couldn't picture Kim or Khloe strutting down the dirty, liter lined streets of Santo Domingo or helping in the orphanages or using a primitive outhouse miles from civilization.

But okay.

When we arrived at the white sandy beaches of Punta Cana, the Kardashians came to mind. This must be where they go! These are the beaches they tan at. This is where they prance around in little to no clothing. And though we had just returned from one of the poorest villages in the country and were clothed from shoulder to knee, we had our own little Kardashian moment, humble with a hint of Kanye.

In short, it was pretty fun being Kim Kardashian, albeit a much more modest version, for 3.4 hours.
And on that note, I can't figure out why people thought I was on vacation instead of a mission trip?

I'm sure the lounging on resort beaches has nothing to do with the confusion.