Sweet, sweet summertime

Summer is right around the corner.

I can actually feel it’s breath on my neck as I try to buckle down for the last couple of weeks of class. In ode to the sweet, sweet season that is summer break, I have compiled a running list of everything I’d like to accomplish.

It’s just a silly list of things that I don’t have time to do from August through May.

Any suggestions?

  • Reread Harry Potter series [for 13th time]
  • Run at least 3 times per week
  • Learn conversational French
  • Go through closet and donate all unnecessary clothes [I really don’t need that puffy vest I bought from the Salvation Army for $2… Or do I. You never know.]
  • Question my fashion choices [See above]
  • Read at least 10 Pulitzer Prize winners
  • Work on Mary Ann Hall research [Writing history is never complete.]
  • Hang out with my Nana more often
  • Perfect my resume + running cover letter
  • Learn how to make Nana’s homemade brown gravy [Hey, I’m a southern girl.]
  • Visit the Margaret Sherry [I won’t disclose how often I visit this library when I’m home for extended periods of time… I have a problem, y’all.]
  • Start planning this damn wedding [Ha, who am I kidding, it ain’t gonna happen. I vote for elopement. If only my vote counted…]
  • Go skydiving!
  • Mentally prepare for graduation in December [Don’t make me leave!!!!]
  • Go camping [Yes, in a tent. IN NATURE.]
  • Volunteer, volunteer, volunteer



When life knocks you down…

This post is written in memoriam for every person who has ever felt that they’ve received a little less in life than what they truly deserve. All those people who work their butts off and gave it their all… only to be disappointed in the end.

This is for you. 

I applied for an internship in February. I’ve been very impatient in finding out the results. (I’m using impatient here as a polite euphemism — I was truly obsessed.) Well, I found out today that I was not selected.

I’m consoling myself by saying that it was quite competitive and there were far more accomplished applicants.

That’s just absurd.

I’m awesome and it’s the Smithsonian’s loss.

(Feel free to send a strongly worded letter of disapproval.)

The end.

Washington, D.C., I’m coming for you. Eventually.

Actually, writing this has been surprisingly cathartic. I feel more at peace and very sure of myself.

I will never let anyone or anything strip me of my confidence.

Life is a bully sometimes. What’s the most efficient way to deal with a bully?

When they knock you down, get back up and smile. 


Today, I want to talk about women.

Shocker, right?

I would definitely consider myself a feminist — raging, even.

That being said, the celebration of feminism should not be limited to my gender alone. The aim of feminism is to establish social, economic, and political equality for women.

I’m sorry, there are people who believe that a majority of our nation’s population [that’s right… women now constitute 50.8% of the population] should not be afforded these rights? Get out! No, seriously.

I have several many feminist role models. Let me introduce you to my favorites…

Senator Wendy Davis — She just announced her campaign for Governor of Texas

Dr. Drew Gilpin Faust — Historian and the 1st woman to serve as president of Harvard University

{I discovered Dr. Faust after spending an entire semester researching prostitution during the Civil War. Yeah, that was awesome and deserves a post all its own.}

Senator Elizabeth Warren — #HillaryElizabeth2016… self-explanatory. 

Hillary Clinton — Can I get an amen.

This list is by no means comprehensive. I should make a distinctive point, though. You neither have to hold political office nor dedicate your entire career to women’s history to be considered a feminist.

What’s interesting about these women is that they married very early in life and raised children. All while building their own kick-ass impressive careers.

Laissez les bons temps rouler, y’all.

This year, I’m especially sad that I won’t be able to enjoy the greatest holiday of the year:

Mardi Gras.


Girls day on St. Charles on Lundi Gras 2013, the Monday before Fat Tuesday

(From left to right: sister – Loggan; mom – Tina; Nana; me)

I wish I had older Mardi Gras pictures to share, but I live about 4 hours away from my parents. Bummer. Trust me, they are pretty great.

On the Gulf Coast, Mardi Gras is celebrated with a 5 day weekend… schools, banks, and many stores are closed in observance of sheer frivolity.

And it’s awesome.

Bacchus, the god of wine and celebration, is praised. The king of the Carnival season is crowned, Rex.


If you’ve never had the opportunity to experience a parade, well… you’re doing something wrong.

From Metairie, LA. to Mobile, AL., people throw caution to the wind (as well as beads, doubloons, and of course – Moon Pies) and take a break from the rushed flow of life to enjoy spending time with friends and family to celebrate a holiday that finds it’s origins from the paganism that dominated Europe prior to Christianity. The Carnival season represents a mixing of religions, now celebrated purely for entertainment and traditional value.

For Catholics, Ash Wednesday starts the season of Lent. Fat Tuesday is a last ditch effort to enjoy the sinful pleasures of alcohol, debauchery, and gluttony.

Happy Lundi Gras, y’all.

Saturday morning musings…


It’s just one tiny word. But to me, it’s not just a combination of coffee grounds and hot water.

Coffee is –

An early morning, the house is silent.

The rush between classes.

A procrastinator’s late night.

Sleeping in on Sundays.

Deep thought and interesting conversation.

Making pancakes for my beloved.

See, the thing is – coffee isn’t even about coffee.

It’s about life: the little moments that fill your day. 

“Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.” -Ernest Hemingway

It’s so true, really.

Are intelligent people incapable of being truly, irrevocably happy? Maybe it has something to do with the direct correlation between stupidity and obliviousness.

On the sliding scale of intelligence, those ranked higher are typically more aware – that is, happiness is usually a bi-product of naiveté.

That just seems sad, really.