How Do They Do It?

The title of today’s entry explains the entire premise. Who are they? What is “it”?

Well, I’m about to tell you.

“They” are the people who seem capable of doing 100 things a day without looking exhausted. “They” actually seem to thrive when a million things are coming at them. I am not one of these “they” people. But I am sort of curious if there is a way to be kind of like them.

Not totally… because, let’s be honest. It takes a certain set of traits to be that kind of person, and I am starting to realize that I may not be one of them. That’s ok, but sometimes, I also suck at getting even one item checked off my to-do list.

Now, the “it.” I’ve sort of laid it out, but it is the idea of getting things done. Actually, it is more the idea of handling a busy schedule.

I tend to get burned out and discouraged rather easily. On the other hand, I am also very good at persevering through a lot more than people expect. So, I’m sort of both while also being neither?

I do try to be a person who gets a lot done. Hence why I am here at almost 2 A.M. writing this entry.

However, I almost blew this off. I almost decided, “Eh. I know you like writing this but you can’t waste time on things.”

Yeah, it’s weird. Doing things you like will never be a waste of time. But that warped brain of mine thinks that doing things I like must mean I’m not living right. And wouldn’t that be an absolute horror in the rat race of life…

So instead, I thought, if I can get more done… then maybe I will omit that guilt of doing the things I enjoy. Or heck, figure out how to make the things I enjoy part of the things I have to get done so that the things I have to get done become palatable actions.

Oh and I think I mentioned the hair oil yesterday… It worked so well. I had very few knots when I got home today and decided that even if I have to take a shower tomorrow, I am going to put that hair oil in again tonight. So I’m rocking my pigtail braids again to sleep. This might be my new look, 🙂

Until tomorrow,



Short Little First World Problem

This is most definitely a first world problem, and I want to start by saying that I am rather grateful to be in a situation where this can be considered a problem.

Every part of my exterior that can be ridiculously dry… it is ridiculously dry. My hair is knotting super easily because it is dry. My lips are getting so chapped that they are cracking.

I need to take better care of these things, because, to be honest, I’ve been rather negligent in recent times.

I am attempting, though. For instance, my hair is currently coated in oil (specifically designed for hair because I actually have tons of great products to use to maintain all these things), and I’m using an ointment for my chapped and chafing skin on my body.

Things like these may seem like “The Vanity Starter Kit,” but they aren’t. Self-care like this is maintenance. They keep your body healthy. Moisturized skin not only looks younger but also probably does its job better.

I’m not entirely sure I can argue that the hair part isn’t vain. Hair, on the head at least, is becoming rather unnecessary.

The braids in my hair and I are going to bed, though. It is 3 A.M. my time are I finish this, and I’d really like to get some sleep.

Night Owl Meal Prepping

So I am either really good or really terrible at meal prep.

The thing is, I pretty much love meal prep. I like cooking. It’s cheaper than going to the store at 11:30 at night because I’m starving after work and don’t want to have to cook anything. I get to be creative with my food by putting together things I might not normally consider. And… it saves me time during the week by taking a chunk out of my Sunday/Monday night transition.

Basically, I am writing this while I wait for a little over 2 pounds of chicken breasts to bake in the oven. I bought meals that require about a pound each, and apparently only take 20 minutes. I’m hoping that because I’m pre-baking the chicken, that will be the case.

Basically, I will probably only make myself a couple boxes of mac & cheese after this (time permitting, though, since I would like to get to bed before 2 A.M. my time), and I should be set for the week. At least I am setting out with that goal in mind.

I am also trying to legitimately use up what I have as much as possible, since I do have a lot of food just sitting in either the freezer, refrigerator, or on my makeshift pantry shelves in my bedroom.

So all in all, I should have no reason to make a trip to the store this week.

Plus, technically, I’m off the hook for my work meal break one day this week. They are supposed to provide food, and if it is anything like the last time they provided food, I will probably come home about 15 pounds heavier, haha. I can give them lots of credit for not skimping us on the food.

I am sort of happy to feel like I am coming back to a routine. It’s like I am finally getting a handle on what it is to work full-time, and I am realizing that I am not shorting myself time in the day or week. Time management is really an intricate process, and I guess I really forgot how easy it is to work with a routine.


So it is now a little after 2:30. Yes, I am still awake, and yes, I had to come back to writing this entry. However, I was very productive in those couple of hours.

Now, I get to enjoy sitting in bed and relaxing while I work on the rest of this entry, and honestly, all I keep thinking is how many changes I’ve made this year. Also, how all of them have honestly been more for the better than for the worse. But I think I will get back to that thought once the year draws to a close.

As always, I hope all of you are wonderful, improving, or finding some way to make your life a little less shitty.

Until tomorrow/later today-ish,



Do you ever get to the point where life feels busy but you know you could have time?

Yeah, that’s where I am lately.

This keeps falling by the wayside. I tell myself it is because I am tired, because I work more than 8 hours a day more often than I’d like.

But I spend fucking hours on YouTube. Or at least an hour hitting the snooze button. Hell, sometimes two hours.

That’s where I’m losing time, and I know it.

Does admitting that I’m fucking this up mean I’m being unkind to myself for going, “The fuck, Kelsey… Get your shit together!”

Because part of me is frustrated that I spend hours hitting the snooze, or dedicating myself to nothing but watching TV and passive shit that I don’t really enjoy but allows me to escape the pressure. Pressure of failure, of success, of being the god damn adult that I am and keeping up on my responsibilities.

Maybe I’m tough because deep down… I have this confidence that is screaming, “You are so much better than this and you keep letting yourself down.” Meanwhile, I have the other side going, “Bitch, don’t be so arrogant and think you’re some god damn special snowflake out to change the world. Be realistic here.”

It’s like I have this double life in my head. I have this confident, sassy, awesome woman who I know deserves all the praise in the world… and then I have the self-deprecating, self-loathing, but also well-meaning voice of “stay humble.”

But sometimes the “humility” side isn’t so nice about wanting me to practice humility.

Is that a human struggle, though? Figuring out how to toe the line between being the arrogant dick of the world and the Negative Nelly… Because that golden spot in the middle? I know that’s that shit people call “confidence.”

For instance, with this… I often think, “nobody gives a fuck. Why are you writing a blog thinking your opinion has absolute Messiah-level value for this planet? Is it really something you are doing for yourself or are you doing it for attention?”

I do tell myself that’s a harsh way to put it…. but there was something I had to come to terms with in that emotional hostility towards myself?

Do I do things simply for the attention? Am I writing this with the notion that people will read my words and notice me? Am I that vain and engrossed with people’s opinions of me that I need the validation?

What if it’s a maybe, more than a yes or no?

Are there moments that validation isn’t a bad thing to seek? I mean, we all know there’s a dark side to seeking approval. But is it all a bad thing? Is it possible that, sometimes, giving a shit what other people think prevents us from being assholes?

I used to admire people for not giving a shit what other people think and just being themselves. But some of the people I admired for it… Well, they were, quite frankly, assholes.

I’m not about that life. I may have moments of self-centeredness (totally not a word, but I’m leaving it)… but isn’t that normal? Aren’t those moments needed to do things like self-assessment so that you can assure that you’re not a shitty person?

Maybe that’s the main reason I write this blog… To take a moment to assess whether or not I’m a shitty person. And maybe also to remind myself, and others, that a lot of us struggle with this idea if we are people who give a shit.

I’m Kelsey. I’m 32 years old and I give a shit about people.

Now, to figure out this productive, not spending my entire day in bed, business…

Happy Birthday to Me

I am 32 years old. Wow.

I don’t necessarily know how to put that number into perspective with where I am in life. I don’t. Of course, maybe that isn’t a bad thing.

I like this new guy but today, part of me kept hoping an old friend would send a text. I wanted him to go, “Hey, I thought of you. Happy birthday old friend.”

He won’t. Because he’s more stubborn and more of an asshole than me. And it still makes me angry. 

I’ve started to embrace the reality that I may never stop loving him. That a piece of my heart will linger on him and I will feel a bit of sadness for that bit being unrequited. Because I deserved to be loved in return.

Can you have that feeling and love someone else? Maybe not with that same timbre played on your heartstrings… But still love them? I’m sort of hoping so because I want to have that in my life. I want to make the choice to love and care for someone who deserves my affection. Most importantly, he also returns it. 

I did write up 32 goals in honor of being 32. Basically, I took the wellness wheel with 8 sections, and I put 4 goals into each. I don’t know if I would consider it fucking gospel, but they are things to bear in mind as I venture through this next year of life.

It’s likely the first full one in a while without Luke. I think I am a little scared of that. But, I am also freer than I have ever been. That is a beautiful thing that can only lead to beautiful things. 

Lets see what this year has in store for me.


Getting It All Together


Yes, I keep disappearing. I think I am FINALLY adjusting to this whole second shift schedule. It’s kind of weird. In a way, I like it, because I don’t have to get up immediately and get ready for work.

Of course, I’m not freakin’ getting out of bed until noon. Oops. Haha.

Anyway, I’m slowly getting back into the notion that I want to work on my health in all aspects. I want to get me back. Because me before Luke was great.

God, that’s the first time I put his name here. I didn’t call him “ex-friend.” Luke. There’s a lot of them so it’s not like you can hunt him down based on that little tidbit.

At moments, his name still feels easy rolling off my tongue. Something about it always felt so comfortable and natural. I’ve known other Lukes in the past, and I will say the same thing. The name just feels good rolling off my tongue.

Maybe that’s why I held on to him so fucking hard. Because it felt like it was supposed to work. Like I was supposed to be the woman that saved him. I wasn’t. He wouldn’t let me, and try as I might, I couldn’t and shouldn’t have tried to make him let me in.

This week, they played the sort of 80s/90s hybrid station at work. So it was a lot of the shit I heard on the radio growing up. Tears for Fears kept playing. In particular, a song he loves: Head Over Heels.

The fortunate thing about my job is it has a good amount of alone time. A brief desire to cry swept over me. I didn’t, though, because I realized I was done feeling sorry for me and for him. I think they call that “acceptance.”

My mourning phase is done and I don’t wish ill on him. I think part of me will always love him. But I’m cognizant of the fact that I deserve much better than him.

I don’t deserve a narcissist who won’t let go of his internal self-loathing. I can’t love someone hard enough if he cannot find any part of himself to love on his own.

I have to thank him though. If it weren’t for our falling out, and my desperate low, I wouldn’t have found the strength to go, “You know what? I need to leave.”

I would have stuck to that same dead end job and continued to try to drive myself crazy to be the woman he could love. My life never would have moved forward and I would’ve been trapped in this downward spiral.

I wouldn’t have spent hours listening to videos about core confidence and building myself up. I wouldn’t be redeveloping myself as a complex human being with many interests and hobbies. I wouldn’t have goals and dreams and aspirations that didn’t somehow revolve around winning him over.

I turn 32 on the 26th of this month. I’ve decided to create 32 goals to celebrate me. They revolve around helping me rediscover the woman I know and love, that deserves to be known and loved.

I’m back bitches.


The Desire That Boredom Breeds

I’m sitting here, in bed, typing on my laptop while wearing that black peel-off mask. You know, the one that was all over social media at one point. I haven’t used it in months, so I thought, “You know what? I should try that shit again.”

So that’s exactly how I’m spending my Sunday evening. And I’m actually really fucking content with that fact.

On the other hand, I’m really fucking bored. I mean, not to tears, but bored. I’m the kind where you’re mentally underwhelmed and under-stimulated. It’s almost as though my brain knows that I need the challenge, but my confidence is afraid of the failure if I push too hard.

Sometimes, I think fatigue sets in because I’m looking for adventure. Because I’m not meant to be the 9-to-5 sort of girl. I have a wild streak, a sassy attitude, and a hunger.

Deep down, sometimes I think my anxiety and depression are the way I express my boredom and frustration. My unfulfilled hunger and desire.

But how am I supposed to satiate this? What adventure is going to make me happy? How do I get there?

These are hard questions. And honestly, as we change, so do the answers to these questions. Maybe that’s ok though.