Category Archives: Hot Mess Express

Life Maybe Slightly Less Mastered

Hey Internet! I know what you are thinking – no, I didn’t intend to return to blogging to rebrand, write two posts, and then disappear. That’s totally what I did, but it wasn’t my intention. I jumped back into blogging at the end of a one month break in between graduation and starting my new job. After my last post I started said job, my mom flew in for two weeks, I single handedly planned a bachelorette party to take place in a different state, and flew home to be in a wedding.

I’m tired is what I am saying.

And I am writing this on the floor of an airport. Like the classy broad I am.

The last two weeks have been NUTSO and I just barely survived. But instead of telling you about my exhaustion level, I’m going to paint you a picture with my words and tell you about one specific incident.

At the end of my first week of work I wore a dress with some ties on the front. Olly, ever the attention whore and string lover, decided the best way to help me get ready for work was to jump for the strings with his nails out while I was getting dressed. I ended up with what basically amounted to a puncture wound on my stomach. It hurt like a mother but I had to get to work, so I walked it off and kept going.

This whole thing is his fault.

Jump to the next morning, my puncture wound is bright red and hurts a bit. I do the responsible thing my mom taught me to do – lots of Neosporin and a Band-Aid – a fun Oh Joy! For Target Band-Aid. I was wounded but I could still have fun!

The next few days I maintained the same routine. Everything was going fine, except I had this new longer sore right next to my puncture wound – I wasn’t sure where it came from, but it hurt a but so I added some Neosporin and an additional Band-Aid to the situation.

Cut to last Wednesday. I am staying the night in my mom’s hotel room because I am meeting her straight from the airport the next day and we had a lot of stuff to distribute between our suitcases. I am EXHAUSTED. I had been working long days to make up some of the hours I was missing Friday, I had been meeting up with my mom for dinner at theme parks and resorts all week. We had stayed in the Magic Kingdom to watch the new (AMAZING) firework show that night. I had dragged my heavy bags from my car to the hotel room (a bit of a trek when you are weighted down) and I just didn’t want to move ever ever again. I needed to wash my hair, but I could just not muster the motivation. I helped my mom pack while I ate some Nutella gelato (thank you Port Orleans- French Quarter!) and then all I had left to do was shower.

As part of the shower preparation process I ripped off one of the Band-Aids I was wearing on my stomach, and with it came off a not an insignificant amount of skin. (And suddenly I knew where that mystery wound had come from). It is hard to drive home how painful this was and how much skin it removed – it was bad. You know when you lose so many layers of skin that the wound kind of starts to ooze? Not puss, but just… body liquid? That’s what it was. It hurt. A lot. (I’m trying to emphasize this because nobody has seemed to take this story seriously until I lift my shirt or send them a picture, and then the universal reaction has been “OH MY GOD HOW DID THAT HAPPEN??” And I’ve had to be like “I literally just told you.” I would show you pictures, but the internet is forever. If you know me well enough to have my phone number text me and I may send you the photographic evidence. If not, you are just going to have to take my word for it.)

Anyway. I’m in pain. I’m exhausted. The act of washing my hair already seemed daunting without the added element “if this wound gets hit by streams of water I will literally scream.” I STILL HAVE ONE BAND-AID ON MY STOMACH AND IT IS EQUALLY AS STUCK. Everything in the world is horrible and it will never be ok ever again.

So that is how I ended up walking around a hotel room, pretty much naked, crying while I shoveled half-melted Nutella gelato into my mouth… I may not actually have my life even slightly mastered is what I am saying.

Epilogue: I ripped the other Band-Aid off after holding a wet washcloth over it. It took off less skin, but still a good amount. I used some dry shampoo instead of washing my hair and I went to bed without doing basically anything else. My wounds are scabbing over and itch a bit but I will survive… I am such a brave soul.

Anyway, have you ever been practically maimed by something that was supposed to help you? How did you deal with it?


I’ve Caught the Resolutions Bug

Hey Internet! I’m back! I’m still home in the suburbs of Chicago (and being reminded about WHY I left!! I’m looking at you ICE STORM!) And really trying to soak up the down time while I have it, and also try to set myself up for success in the upcoming semester.

So as I try to prepared for the spring semester, I feel a familiar sensation coming over me… I am catching the Resolution Bug. The Resolution Bug, as I’m sure you know, runs rampant this time of year and EVERYONE seems to catch it in one form or another. My system is SUPER susceptible to the Resolution Bug. It’s bad. Every year I start out thinking THIS YEAR WILL BE DIFFERENT, and every year it is the same. I start out strong for a few days, and then peter out within a week or two.

This is not something I am proud of. I make sweeping declarations and I am SERIOUS THIS TIME… for a week and a half… But guys, this year I’M REALLY SERIOUS THIS TIME. I have BIG PLANS for the new year. I’m REALLY GOING TO WORK ON THINGS. And I want to believe myself.

I want to go into this new year with BIG PLANS and I want to stick to them. But to stick to them I need to believe that I will. I need to believe myself, even though I have proven myself to be the quintessential Girl Who Cries Wolf.

So how do I believe me? How do I say “Look Liz, I know you’ve said all of these things before, but you say this time is different and DANGIT! I BELIEVE YOU!”

This is not a rhetorical question. I need somebody trustworthy to vouch for me. Because I clearly cannot be trusted.

So do you have any secrets, Internet? What do you do when you catch the Resolution Bug? How do you keep going once the Bug has passed through your system and you are left to your own devices?

This are Real Questions I have.


A Haunting in Orlando

Hey Internet!

So it turns out this whole “Blogging and being in grad school” thing is harder than I originally thought. School is going pretty well, but when I am on campus (Aprox. 700000% of the time) I try to be as school-productive as I can be and then when I go home all I want to do is binge watch Netflix and snuggle with the cats. I was hoping to make my weekends my “blog times,” but when I feel incredibly behind on something I have a very bad habit of just putting it off more (hence the HUNDREDS of unread posts in my bloglovin’ feed).  I ALSO tend to stop writing when my boglovin’ feed has too many unread posts in it. Basically it comes down to me being a bad blogger. #sorrynotsorry.

ANYWAY, not a ton is going on – but one weird this is going on. I think my arm is haunted.

The other day I woke up and noticed I had some long scratches on my upper arm, I’m not a sleep scratcher so I thought it was a little weird, but I just went with it until later when I noticed some small bruises near the scratches. And I DEFINITLY couldn’t remember doing anything to warrant arm bruising. They were little – the kind you may get from an angry mosquito, but they didn’t itch so it was weird. At this point I was a little worried that my arm may be haunted, but I tried to be rational, because I am a VERY rational and NOT AT ALL neurotic person. I mean, I’m getting a master’s degree in math-y stuff, so clearly I am GREAT at being logical. BUT THEN I was sitting on the couch and Adorabeezle was all “what happened to your arm?” And pointed at the back of my arm/shoulder region. And I was like “WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED TO MY ARM? WHAT IS IT? MY ARM IS HAUNTED!!!!” And I ran to the bathroom mirror and it turns out that it was a bright purple quarter-sized bruise and that’s when I started screaming that my armed need an exorcism.

I told Adorabeezle that she was in charge of finding me an old priest and a young priest because she is my resident Catholic down here. And then she pointed out that she didn’t think I knew how exorcism works. And then I told her that I was pretty sure that’s how it worked in the Exorcist, but then I had to admit that I had never actually SEEN the exorcist, but I was still pretty confident that that is what happened based on being a human that exists in the world, but then Adorabeezle was all “Your arm isn’t haunted, you just bruise easily.” Which is EXACTLY what the ghost in my arm wants me to think, but I’M NOT FOOLED ARM GHOST!!!!

So BASICALLY if you know any priests (preferably one young one old) and you want to send them my way, my arm and I would greatly appreciate it. I really just don’t want my story to turn into the next “A Haunting in…” franchise.

Hope you have a wonderful and not-at-all haunted weekend Internet!


On Having It All Together

Hey Internet.

So the other night Adorabeezle and I were in my room and looking a the progress I had made towards making it pretty, and she said the most ludicrous thing she has ever said to me.

“Look at this room. It looks so good. Its so cohesive  – you can tell the kind of person who lives here. You have your life so together.”

It was such an outrageous statement I almost laughed in her face, except it was closely followed by “I’m not crying. You are crying.” (Adorabeezle is a tired crier). And I didn’t want to laugh at her in that moment.

But the simple notion that I may have my life together? That was craziness talking. I had to remind her that I had canceled a therapy session that afternoon because I needed to have a day where I didn’t leave the apartment. (Yeah. I know that doesn’t sound like the best choice, but it was the right choice for me that day, and Adorabeezle agreed).

But it made me think – how many times a day do I look at a blog or an Instagram post and think “Man. They have got it all worked out”? How often do I see someone in full makeup in a theme park and think “They are so put together and I am a sweaty mess”? How often do I compare myself to people I don’t even know and assume their life is totally together?

Way too much is the answer to all three of those questions.

Most days, for the past few months at least, it has been easy to look around and think “gosh my life is in shambles right now,” so how could someone who has seen me go through that ever think that I have it together because my room looks nice(ish)?

But maybe that is because the perception of togetherness is just a total lie. I don’t have it anymore together than a girl who does her makeup flawlessly everyday but then goes to a job she hates. I don’t have it anymore together than a blogger who is very good at managing her internet presence, but has family troubles she doesn’t let on about.

I don’t know what is happening in the lives of most of the people whom I blogstalk. I don’t know the girls I see in theme parks who are dressed to the nines (WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?! They make us all look like the hot sweaty messes we are inside). I assume that they have it all together because of a few instagram posts or a banging outfit, but what do those things actually say about the state of their lives? Nothing.

I think we need to stop assuming that people have life so much more figured out than we do. Life is messy. Yes, some messes are bigger than others, but just because we don’t see the mess doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Everyone is trying to figure out this life thing and I am not sure that ever stops.

My life is a mess. My apartment is going to be totally bangin when it is done, but all the other stuff? Craziness. And the truth is – when I’m not comparing myself to strangers – I kind of like the mess. I like that I am on this crazy adventure of getting my masters in Florida. I like that I don’t know what the future holds. I mean, it completely terrifies me, but I still like it. And yes, there are for sure some things I would change. There are things I am working on. There are things I am sad about. These past few months have beaten me up a bit, but I am excited to keep moving forward, mess and all.

So, Internet, I guess I just wanted to stop by and remind you that you are okay. And if you feel like you completely do not have your ish together, well, you are definitely not alone.


My Pathetic Attempt to Control My Life

Hey Internet! If I were sitting across a table at Starbucks from you right now, I would sigh a big sigh and say, “Life… Amiright?” Because life, Internet… Amiright?

Ok. So sometimes life totally throws me. I will be going about my day thinking about how excited I am for grad school or how awesome cats are or whether or not I can pull off hipster glasses and then all of a sudden life happens and I realize how little control I have over the world (shocking, I know).

Of course, when this happens all I want to do is find a way to control my life (something so destined for failure its almost not even funny… almost). I just want so badly to trick myself into thinking I can control stuff because it sounds easier than just accepting the fact God’s plan is better than mine, even when I don’t understand it.

So instead of doing the healthy thing and trying to accept what I cannot change (is that what they say in AA? Does this make me sound like a alcoholic?), I do things like watching this THIRTY MINUTE video about how this chick arranges her planner:

Thirty minutes guys. I watched the entire thing and then decided I NEEDED some of these stickers and spent about an hour on Etsy favoriting a ton of them so I could eventually buy them and THEN MY LIFE WOULD BE A-OK….. It’s funny when people are wrong isn’t it?

It occurred to me while I was scrolling through HUNDREDS OF STICKERS that maybe (just MAYBE) this was a subconscious ploy on my part to put off dealing with real life, BUT THE STICKERS! THEY CALL TO ME!!!

Ironically, no one on Etsy make stickers for your planner that say “Hey crazy! It’s time for therapy!”** They make speech therapy stickers and physical therapy stickers and occupational therapy stickers. They make dentist stickers (I NEED THESE) and doctors stickers and vaccination stickers, but no “life is hard, get thee to therapy” stickers. Why is this?! They have have “order your pills” stickers and “change your contacts” stickers and “you have your period” stickers. But they never think that maybe if somebody is obsessively sticker-ing their planner that maybe (just MAYBE) that person may also be in therapy because LIFE IS HARD? C’mon Etsy!!

So the moral is this: life is hard and I don’t get to be in control of it, but I still REALLY want some of these stickers because I am really bad at organization and these could maybe (just MAYBE) help with that a little? Maybe? Or am I just making excuses at this point? What do you think, Internet?

What are your coping skills when life gets to be LIFE…amiright?

**Just a disclaimer, I DON’T think therapy is for crazy people. This is hyperbole. Obvi. (At least I hope it is Obvi).