Tuesday, June 30, 2015


I have a little bit of a rant today. So if you're not interested in reading the words of a woman scorned, then I will give you a second to leave. 


Alright, that's enough. 

Dating is hard. Like, way more difficult than getting my university degree and I'm not even exaggerating. I'd rather take statistics like 500 times than have to deal with the dating landscape of 2015. With technology being so pervasive in dating culture, it's not hard to see why. We all go into knowing that with one swipe something better could come along. Constantly being connected hasn't led to us being more together as a society, in fact, sometimes it can make you feel even more alone. We have this constant need to prove we can do better, have better, be better. 

Technology puts up a barrier that never used to exist. It dehumanizes the person/people you communicate with. It's never been easier to drop someone and move on to the next. Look, I have no problem being dumped. It happens. I get that sometimes two people don't mesh, or one person isn't interested anymore, and when someone tells me "hey I don't think it's going to work out", I gather up my pride and move on. But that's only when someone has the decency to actually COMMUNICATE that with me. 

Which brings me to today's topic: Ghosting. No I don't mean this kind of ghost. 

For those unfamiliar with the term, in today's modern dating culture, Ghosting refers to the act of completely falling off the face of the earth without telling the person you are seeing that you are in fact, over it. It means disappearing. Like 100% ceasing communication one day without any slight indication as to what happened, or why, or if you're even dead or alive. 

And that is the biggest dick move you could ever pull you slimy coward. Nothing is worse than assuming you're going to be seeing someone on the weekend, and the day-of they stop answering your texts. They don't tell you why they no longer wish to speak to you, the days before were normal and there was nothing in the conversations that would lead me to suspect that this wasn't working out. In fact, telling someone you want to make time for them, and making them feel special, and then dropping off the face of the goddamn earth, while still looking at their snapchats, is deplorable. 

Next time dudes, grow some balls and be a man. Just tell her you're not interested. It's uncomfortable but at least it won't make us go all Carrie Underwood on your ass. 

(For the record I would never actually do this but it feels pretty good to imagine doing it in my head.)

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Zakia's Morocco Beauty Review

When I need to relax, one of the first things I do is hop in a hot bath. I'm your cliche white girl with a bazillion candles and a glass of wine in hand, soaking in a giant pool of bubbles. Sometimes though, it's not quite enough and I need to treat myself to a spa night.

Lately I've been having a really rough go of life, so I set aside time to myself on Saturday night and pampered myself to the nines. We're talking foot scrub, cucumbers, and my new favorite thing in the whole world: Zakia's Morocco Ghassoul Clay Mask. 

It was easy to mix and apply. I think next time I'm going to try out a full body mask. Oh and you know what else? You can also use it as a hair mask. Seriously, it's a wonder product. 

 My skin was amazingly smooth as soon as I washed it off. It's 3 days later and my skin is still smooth and glowing. I have yet to find a mask that works as fast as this one. My face feels so clean!

Because I love you all so much and because Zakia is the nicest, I've got a 20% Discount code for all of my lovely readers! Just go to their website here and use the code ZMBLOG-236.  

Browse the other products and let me know what you think! I hear the black soap is amazing as well.

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Wednesday, June 10, 2015


For today's confession I wanted to talk about something I know a lot of people can relate to: poor eyesight. I confess that when I was little ALL I ever wanted was to wear glasses. I was such a weirdo right?

Unfortunately, my wish came true when I was 11. The headaches had started and the eye doctor confirmed my dream (and now nightmare) had come true. I would need glasses. Eleven year old me was pumped. Twenty five year old me hates eleven year old me. 

Since I'm so blind, I need to wear glasses all day every day. I've worn some real hideous pairs in the past. I rocked the Harry Potter style glasses until late in high school. Horrible. This is why it's very important to me that now when I invest in a pair, they look good, last a long time and go with everything.

I was pumped when Firmoo contacted me and offered me a pair to try. This company is right up my alley: affordable, trendy and a diverse selection. I honestly sat on their website for over an hour trying to choose a pair because I had so many options and I just wanted them all. It didn't help that they have a page with new products every day because it just made me want more!

I finally settled on a pair of black frames with a pop of blue. I'm really boring and practical so I needed something black and plain. I don't want to have to change glasses with every outfit. 

Waiting for them to come in the mail was agonizing. When I saw my package finally sitting there I was a kid on Christmas. I didn't even wait to get into my apartment, I opened them in the elevator. I was so excited to see they came with a pretty case and a purse sized cleaning kit. 

And guess what? It gets so much better. 

If you go to this page, you can get 15% off your first pair, just for being a new customer! I highly recomend Firmoo. Their customer support is great and these came within 3 days of being ordered. Quick service to boot? I might be getting 2, or 4, or 8 more pairs. 

If you're in the market for new glasses, check them out and let me know what you think! 

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

My State of Being

Today's confession is going to be slightly different than usual. If you've been around these parts lately, you've probably noticed I've been m.i.a. fairly often. So today I confess that I've been having a really rough go of it lately.

A skill I've honed over the better part of a decade is pretending everything is fine. I should pursue acting, since that's what I spend the majority of my life doing. I've gotten really good at hiding. I hide my feelings, I hide my mood, I hide inside myself.

Lately, I haven't wanted to leave my apartment. I can't get off the couch, I barely eat, I can hardly force myself out of bed in the morning to go to work. If I didn't have to pay rent, I'd probably have already quit just so I can spend my days in bed sleeping, commiserating and hurting.

What hurts me so, you may ask? That's the shitty thing. Nothing. Looking at my life you'd think "What does she have to complain about?" It's true; by all accounts I'm lucky. Everything seems stable and I'm surrounded by love. But that's not how depression works. ("That's not how this works! That's not how any of this works!" points if you know this meme.)

It hits you like a cement truck and doesn't care that your life, from the outside, looks pretty damn great. So lately I've been drowning. I have had no desire to do anything, including shower frequently and eat (which are two of the hardest things I have to force myself to do), least of all pour my heart out into this damn blog. But I want to change that. Because over the past two years, this blog is one of the outlets that helped the most. It's hard to give myself a good hard shake; I need to be shaken to the core. I want so hard to help myself be better. That's something I've struggled with throughout my entire battle; knowing that I can't just make myself better.

So I'm going to try really hard to come back to this space. To be honest and write exactly what is going on. I'm sick of feeling weak. I'm sick of playing the victim. I'm sick of being indifferent about my life. I want to be strong. I have a great life and I want to enjoy it.

So today I confess that I've let my disease define who I am. Something I swore I would never do. And I'm here to confess that I want to fight.