Cringe: A Poem

Nails on a chalkboard, when your boss needs to “talk”,

and the feeling of stepping in a puddle while wearing clean socks


An ant struggling in your soup, when knees crinkle and crack,

Mama Frogs who give birth to babies straight out of their backs


A finger nail that was split, unknown gunk smeared on your blazer,

Find a hair that isn’t yours stuck right in your razor


Spit in your eye and someone else chewing on YOUR pen,

People who throw up in their mouths, and then swallow it again


Biting hard on your tongue and when someone you hate starts to giggle,

Hoop Earrings that are pulled and ripped straight down the middle.


Skidding knees on sidewalks and the smell of fresh chum,

Eating some crackers while you are still chewing gum


Sand stuck up your butt, biting the inside of your cheek,

Finding a wriggling half worm in your apple or peach


Stepping on a Lego, seeing your neighbors trying to creep

and bad rhyming poetry that puts you straight to sleep


I’m super sorry about that,




Text Blasting

I am 100% guilty of what I have started to call text blasting and I am hoping that I am not the only one. I have never been one of those people with lots of friends, not that I am completely friendless but I am not one of those people that leave their phone at home accidently and come back an hour later to find 20 text messages. The thing about text messages, at least for me, is that they are little bits of instant gratification. Even if it’s just friend asking if I want to get coffee this weekend or furthermore just my mom asking if I got to work safely, I get this tiny little warm feeling in my heart, which sounds absolutely lame but whatever.

I don’t know for sure why this happens but it does. Now, something that I really like about myself is that I am not attached to my electronic devices. Sure I am obsessive about other things in my life like always having the materials to make cupcakes in my pantry or never putting a book down in the middle of a chapter but I am infamous for missing phone calls because I left my phone is a completely different room of the house I am hanging out it. A lot of the people I hang out with are like that actually. But most of these people, my brother included, will come back and see that they have several text messages while if I’m lucky, I might get a butt dial from my grandfather followed up with a 5 minute long voicemail from inside his pocket. Not I know I sound like a hypocrite, and that’s because I 100% am. I criticize those who are too attached to their phones and am jealous of them at the same time. So what do I do instead that is totally embarrassing and really sad. I text blast. I am actually cringing at myself as I write this.

What I do is, I will text as many people as I can about trivial things at the same time. Parents, friends, coworkers, no one is safe. Sometimes it’s reasonable like “Haven’t heard from you in a while, how are you?” or “Just wanted to say hi! How are classes going?” more often though it’s a white lie “Hey, I don’t remember, are we getting dinner Wed or Thurs?” even though the date is circled on my calendar. Mostly, it’s just a meme or picture of an animal wearing human clothes that I found on Instagram with basically no purpose at all. I will send these text messages all in a row and then turn my phone upside down and walk away for a little. When I come back there will be a list of text messages waiting for me and my heart swells with happiness. I know, this is absolutely convoluted and incredibly stupid and I don’t know why I do this. Also to clarify, this isn’t a daily or weekly thing! This is a once every 2 or 3 months sort of thing (not that it makes it any better but still). The feeling I get is like when I go on a diet. I will do really well for weeks, eating veggies and exercising more but then it will be that one Saturday where instead of going to the gym, I give in and eat an entire pizza by myself. I won’t text blast for almost a month and then I can’t help myself. In the moment, it feels so awesome but later on I will ask myself “was that really necessary”. I feel like I need to go to group therapy about this. Not that it’s a serious enough problem but I would like to know that I’m not the only one out there like this. Do other people do this? Is it just me? Should I just sit in the corner all by my weird and creepy self?

Yes? Okay

Putting the Fuse in Confused,


My Battle Against the Mice Part II

I don’t know if I ever mentioned the house I lived in while I was in college. It was a wonderful little brick house, with hard wood floors and a strong roof that kept up shelter and safe. That being said, it was very dilapidated. Not necessarily in a bad way, it was just obviously old and very run down. We liked to use the phrase, “well loved”. Like you would of a child’s toy that was ratty, missing pieces and probably had never been washed. Regardless, I loved that house. But I do remember one time that I really hated it.

I was sitting on my bed, reading when I say something grey in the corner of my eye at my door. I need glasses to see far away so it was just a shape at first. I actually thought it was a leaf that had maybe been stuck on someone’s shoe and had blown in with the closing of the door, not to be too specific. Then that leaf squeaked, scurried into my room and ran into my closet. It was a freaking mouse. You see, I lived on the ground floor so, it wasn’t unusual for me to have critters once in a while, but this was a whole new playing field. I ran up to my roommates rooms and knocked on everyone’s doors all at once. They came out looking sleepy, it was around midnight on a Tuesday in their defense. “There is a mouse in my room!” I screamed, even though they were only a few inches away from me. They looked at each other then each turned around and retreated back to their rooms. When I protested I was just told, “There’s nothing you can do about it now. Try and get some sleep and we can figure it out in the morning.” After making some comments about needing better friends,  I grumpily made my way back stairs where I crouched on the sofa and stared at the entrance to my room. I texted everyone I knew who lived close by and these were just a few of the responses I got.

Person 1: “There’s a mouse in my room! Help!” “Where is it?!” “In my closet!” “It’s a gay mouse?”

Person 2: “Do you have mouse poison or traps or anything like that?” “No. Why do you ask?”

Person 3: “There is a mouse in my room! What should I do?” “Don’t let it get into your wall. We had a mouse get in our walls, die in there and it smelled horrible.”

Now it was obviously needed new friends in general. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep at all that night and they next morning my roommates and I looked everywhere in my room and couldn’t find it. We bought poison and put them all over the house, but nothing. I started to forget about it when one night right before Thanksgiving break I saw the shape at my door again. It tried to run in so I threw my book at it and scurried off and disappeared before I could track it down again. I told my roommates about the incident and instead of creating a search party, they started to question me. I was the only one who had seen the mouse and it always comes to my room. Every time we looked it was on where to be found. There had been a lot of test this past week and I hadn’t been getting a lot of sleep. Was I imagining the mouse? No! No. no. no…. Maybe? I didn’t want to give up, but they did have a point.

A few days passed by and they all forgot about the mouse. Weeks passed by and eventually, even I forgot about it. Until one faithful morning. I was sitting at our couch, watching the news (or cartoons…) eating toast when I heard one of my roommates make her way down the stairs. “Good morning.” Silence. “Morning?” “….is that a dead mouse at the bottom of our stairs?” Good news, I wasn’t delusional. Bad news….There was a dead mouse at the bottom of our stairs

Putting the Fuse in Confused,


My Battle Against the Mice Part I

Who hasn’t faced a mouse at one point in their life. It happens quicker than you thought it would. The squeak, the scurrying, the little dark blur that rushes past you and then the chill that shoots straight into your bones. And I know the feeling quite well because I have had not one close encounter mouse incident, but two.

The first one was a few years ago. My parents run a small flower business together so I spent about 50% of my life in that little shop on the strip mall. There was a little bathroom in the back that was only called a bathroom because that’s where to toilet was. It definitely wasn’t the prettiest, and also had all of our cleaning supplies and was basically just a hole in the wall connected to the rest of the strip. But it was functional and for our purposes, that’s all that mattered. My opinion has changed very much since then. It’s one of those unsettling facts about me that I can actually answer “yes” to the question “Have you ever found a mouse in your toilet?” I was just trying to use the restroom, one normal day when I noticed something brown kind of floating in the water. At first I was frustrated when I thought that someone just forgot to flush after using the toilet but then I realized that the little brown thing… was making bubbles. I peered in a little bit closer and saw that tail and whiskers and then the beady little eyes staring straight into mine.

So in retrospect…. I probably should have pulled my pants back up before I ran out of the restroom screaming. And of course there was a customer waiting outside and of course my exact screams were “There’s a mouse in the toilet! There’s a MOUSE in the TOILET!” That was definitely one customer that we never saw again but my mother and I were facing a much more dramatic dilemma. What were we supposed to do with it fuzzy little creature sitting in the water? WE didn’t want to kill it but we didn’t want to fish it out either. Not going to lie, we toyed around with the idea of just flushing and seeing what would happen but of course our humanity gene kicked in immediately and we didn’t do that either. In the end it died and the man next door help get it out but not before it left chilling images in my head that still haunt me to this day. My mother tried to calm me down (when really she should have been grumbling at me for making a such fool of myself in public) by saying how mice will almost never enter my life. This was a freak incident that would probably never happen again. Oh how I wished she was right. Not that I ever found a mouse in another toilet, but it was only a few years later that me and the little critter would meet again.

Putting the Fuse in Confused,


Things I Don’t Understand: Part 1

I am going to call this Part 1 because as you can probably guess, there is a lot in the world that confuses me and thus so many things that I do not understand. Today though, I am going to focus on the concept of being awkward because I believe it’s not as simple as feeling embarrassed or uncomfortable. I truly believe being awkward is based on perspective. As defined by society, I am a very awkward human being. Its something that I accept and actually like about myself. But then I got to thinking, if everyone was as awkward as me, would i still be awkward? For example, I have a small bladder and I basically have to pee round the clock. Where I drink water or not, I always have to go. It’s the worst for long car trips, sitting in meetings and especially at the movie theater. I always have to excuse myself to go to the restroom and normally I announce it. You may find that unnecessary but hear me out first. Whenever I just get up to leave or even when I say “Excuse me for one moment.” I get a chorus of “Where ya going?” and “You okay?” So I just skip the middle man and just say “Hey! I’m going to the restroom.” People find that awkward too but that’s a different issue.

Back to perspective, imagine if everyone had to pee as often as I do, like it was the norm. I remember once I went to a Peter Jackson movie which you all know was approximately 3 hours long. I know myself, so I didn’t get anything to drink or even eat just in case. An hour and a half in, I had to pee. How??? I don’t know but I do know that the guy next to me was drinking a gallon sized cup of coca-cola or some other diuretic beverage the entire time and barely moved throughout the whole move. The one time he did move was to get up to let me through when I had go. That was awkward. You could tell by the way everyone looked at me. However, if everyone had a bladder like mine, it would be normal to still do intermissions during movies and everyone would get up. Except for that one guy drinking his soda, continuing to sit there. Then we would all point to him on our way to the restroom and go “That’s awkward.”

See, it’s all about perspective. If that’s not enough, I’ll give you another example. I like to sing out loud whenever I do anything. No, I’m not an aspiring singer and no, I’m not even a good singer but do I sing songs from Les Mis when I wash the dishes and hum “Single Ladies” when I vacuum and I have also been known to sing the “Good Morning” song from Singing in the Rain when I get ready in the mornings. I think the only person who thinks this is even a little cute is my Mom. Everyone else thinks its awkward. But think about musicals. Everyone is singing and dancing the entire time. If you were watching a show and there is that one guy who is just standing there and not harmonizing with the melody while waving his hands back and forth with the rest of his peers you would think “Wow. That’s really awkward.”

So there you go. Everything is perspective. And I know that by my definition makes everything a paradox but hey, that’s why I’m so confused and awkward for that manner. What if it was normal to wear your socks on your hands every time you got on your computer? You’d look pretty awkward right now, wouldn’t you?

Putting the Fuse in Confused,


The Deconstructed Peanut Butter Cup

One of the greatest combinations in the history of candy is chocolate and peanut butter. In my experience most people will say that their favorite candy is Reese’s and there are even people who actually wait for specific holiday edition Reese’s to come every year. I know people who wait for the Easter Egg Reese’s to come around every year in a fashion that reminds you of a religious group waiting for their messiah, because they are THAT much better than the original. But here is the deal. I love peanut butter. I love chocolate. I would kill for snacks that have peanut butter and chocolate together. I do NOT like Reese’s.

Now before you get on my case, let me explain. To me, the cup is too disproportionate. The first bite is too much chocolate and then they second bite is too much peanut butter. Now I have tried to shove the entire thing in my mouth because A) it seems like that would solve my issue, and B) that is apparently the “correct” way of eating them. Have you ever tried to put an entire Reese’s cup in your mouth? It’s not the best feeling in the world.

So a few years ago, when I looked at my almost empty kitchen shelf for a snack, I did something that completely changed my life. I created what I like to call the “deconstructed peanut butter cup” and it revolutionized snacking for me. If you feel the same way about Reese’s Cups as I do but still long for a chocolate-peanut butter fix, stay tuned. For this snack all you need is a jar of peanut butter, a bag of mini chocolate chips (the mini ones work the best but regular ones will be sufficient) and a spoon. What you do is you take your spoon (or finger if you have no clean spoons/none of your roommates are home), and scoop out a generous portion of peanut butter. Then you get your bag and you dip the spoon sticky side down into the bag of chocolate chips. When you pull the spoon back out, the peanut butter should have a nice coat of chips covering the top layer and you can proportion this however you would like. And there you have it. Wonderful, sweet, perfection.


And there are definitely some people out there who think this is gross and very unappetizing but everyone has heard the phrase “when life gives you lemons make lemonade”, right? Well, everyone likes their lemonade differently. Some like it sweeter, some like is more sour. Some prefer fresh squeeze and some prefer powder. Some like actual lemon slices floating in their drinks and others think the lemonade is disgusting and would rather have orange juice. So in conclusion: what I have learned from this whole experience is that when life gives you chocolate and peanut butter………………………………. you do whatever the hell you want with them and long as it make you happy.

Putting the Fuse in Confused,