Temporary Hiatus + Side Blog Project

I know it has been a scary long time since I actually sat down and published something (I’m like Prince with a secret vault except mine is full of crappy posts), but I am officially on a temporary hiatus until early summer. In the mean time, I ask that you check out my side blog project on the golden age of the Simpsons, an era which is my favorite in all of television history.


Life has been chaotic and busy with this whole GRADUATING COLLEGE thing, so I promise to get some content out before Trump becomes president and this whole world burns (kidding? I don’t even know anymore).

When it all settles down, depending on how this Simpsons project works out, I hope to be able to coordinate the management of both blogs along with my new and fantastic position I’ve accepted after college. More details on that are coming soon, I promise!



Kylo Ren is Probably an INFJ


My key word here is probably, so don’t try to lightsaber fight me in a snowy forest just yet. My other key word here is TURN AROUND NOW IF YOU DON’T WANT SPOILERS! Well, that was more a phrase, but seriously stop reading NOW.


See? Look how considerate I am. ~~*Simply INFJ Things*~~

Anyway, moving on, I’m pretty sure Kylo Ren, or Kylo BEN (ha ha ha, see what I did there?) is most likely an INFJ and here’s why:

1.) He has a classic case of INFJ Rage™


One time I flipped over a table as a child because I was so mad my mom snuck out of the house without telling me. This was basically Ren acting like a mega-baby who can’t control his Fe very well. At least my excuse is that I was 6 years old.

2.) He has deep Ni intuition 


*Kylo Ren and Supreme Leader Snoke discuss Rey in the novel*
“This girl—resisted you?”
“Completely untrained, but strong with the Force. Stronger than she knows.”

Ren’s intuition and keen focus on Rey’s gift is much more pronounced than that of Leader Snooki’s. INFJ’s pick up on everything, after all.

3.) He can emotionally manipulate the crap out of you


Call it EQ, or call it emotionally torturing people to get what you want out of them, Ren is smart, but he’s not resting on logic to get there.

4.) He’s extremely idealistic and visionary


This whole mission is intended to honor what good ol’ Grandpa Vader started. Ren is entirely blinded by his vision of the First Order (whose name reminds me of New Order, who is also one of my favorite bands because INFJness).

5.) Ya know, Hitler and Osama Bin Laden were INFJ’s too.


INFJ’s who embrace toxicity and the dark side can become almost unstoppably evil. Look at Hitler or Bin Laden. These figures in history were so convinced by their beliefs that they weren’t above murdering and torturing humans to make them a reality: Ren is no different.

6.) He’s kind of an evil monster, but he’s also really human


When Ren takes off the mask to show Rey what’s underneath, he’s just a kid. He’s a young Marilyn Manson looking kid with emotions, goals, angst and a whole lot of anger. By the way, MM is an INFJ too.

7.) And he’s surprisingly soft-spoken and sensitive underneath the mask


…Or he’s just a whiny, teary-eyed, emotional bastard. You decide.

8.) He abandoned his family in order to resist an emotional connection to them


…And yet he STILL does! INFJ’s are deeply connected to their loved ones. Deep down he knows he still loves Daddy Solo, which is what leads me to my next point:

9.) He can easily make a decision and never turn back, also known as the INFJ Door Slam™


He had to stab his dad and push him down a shaft just to eliminate their bond and the pull he felt toward him. The worst part is that he won’t regret this decision either. Solo, you’ve been cut, literally and figuratively.

10.) At one point, he still felt the pull to good


“Forgive me. I feel it again… the call from light. Supreme Leader senses it. Show me again, the power of the darkness, and I’ll let nothing stand in our way. Show me… and I will finish what you started.”

Even when INFJ’s are being evil, they don’t feel they’re being evil. Their moral compass enters a state of total conviction which enables justification for their actions, but his still experienced doubt for good chunk of the film.

While it’s way too soon in the trilogy to come to a definite conclusion on this, it’s what I’m betting on so far. So, who knows, I could be wrong—and there’s a gigantic chance of that—but I’m ready to bet on it for now, and as an INFJ myself, I can see myself coming and going from a mile away.

Scott Weiland is Dead and No One is Glorifying Him


Less than a week after Scott Weiland’s death, his second wife penned an open letter to him on behalf of his still young children. The piece was quickly labeled “poignant” and “powerful” with Mary Forsberg Weiland described as “brave,” so many people heartbroken for her.

While I have sadness and empathy in my heart for Scott Weiland’s children, dealing with his death at the tender ages of 15 and 13 must be especially difficult, I have little sympathy for Mary Forsberg, and I’m here to tell you why.

I’m the unfortunate child of an addict. A life I was born into which I didn’t choose. When I read the Rolling Stone article, I was almost angry by Forsberg’s callousness and lack of accountability. Who decided to marry and bring two children into the world with a publicly-known and destructive addict? Who is now assuming the role of martyr?

I also want to know who exactly is glorifying Scott’s death? If anything, most of us have pity for him. I do. I’ve grown up with his music—a wonderful artist that fucked up and was fucked up.

I pity his wonderful talent gone to waste. I pity his substance abuse. I pity his lack of fatherhood. I pity his destructive relationships in both platonic and romantic situations.

Rumors are flying about both sides of the story: Mary onced used heavy drugs like heroin and cocaine, Scott paid $60,000 per month in child support, Mary refused to let Scott see his kids, Scott committed spousal abuse on Mary.

And still, in all of this, it’s the children that suffer the most.

To Scott and Mary’s kids:

It will be okay, but you have to make it okay. Your parents short-comings don’t define you. You’ll experience the pain from it for the rest of your life, but it will be okay. Try to treasure the good memories you had, if any. Don’t let hate fill your heart.

To Scott:

I’m sorry you had this disease. I’m sorry you couldn’t be the father you needed to be. I’m just sorry. And I won’t glorify your rockstar life. I promise.

5 Ways to Enjoy Halloween Without Being a Jerk

Halloween is surely a magical time of the year: Pumpkins, scary movies, costumes and candy are just a few of the many reasons Halloween is a much loved tradition. Unfortunately, with Halloween comes the temptation to do the wrong thing, but fear not! I’m here to help you figure out the basics of having a happy, safe and controversy-free Halloween.

1. Don’t dress up like other races

Seriously, it’s not cool to paint your face another skin color, and it’s definitely not cool to dress up as a stereotype. Caricatures of someone else’s culture are both unfair and offensive. It’s okay to be a person of color you really like for Halloween, but don’t mock them by trying to change your physical appearance to match theirs. Study some classic Hollywood history, and you’ll see just how wrong black-face, brown-face and the like are.



2. Be careful who you’re taking photos with

You probably don’t want a picture of you and the most offensive costume of the night all over social media. After all, the internet is forever, just like my insatiable need to write list-formated blogs. We all remember this photo with Taylor Swift—please be smarter than Swifty.



3. Don’t drink and drive

This is an easy one, but it’s unfortunately rarely followed. Do not drink and drive on Halloween. I’m serious. Call a cab, an Uber or find a DD. As with any major party holiday, it’s a horrible idea to get behind the wheel after you’ve just had a night of drinking. Not only are you more likely to get busted for it (you shouldn’t be doing it anyway), you could really hurt someone, you know, like those kids out trick-or-treating trying to have a fun, harmless night.



4. Don’t dress up like Caitlyn Jenner.

Seriously, this one just isn’t funny. Whatever your feelings on the Jenners/Kardashians may be, it’s not fair—or right—to make fun of someone’s trans journey. To many people, including myself, Jenner is a hero of transgender awareness and progress. So, get out of my realm with your ridiculousness.



5. Don’t vandalize anything

Keep the egging, window breaking, slashing of tires and other mindless destruction out of here. As adults, it’s definitely time to know better, and you don’t have the right to ruin anyone’s Nov. 1 because you decided to be a terrible person on Oct. 31



So with that, please have a wonderful Halloween weekend, and remember, make good choices!

“Amy,” and the Exploited Female Artist


Sitting in a stuffy Brooklyn movie theatre, my boyfriend and I were ready to see “Amy.” It was our last night in New York City. I was filled with pizza topped with aged mozzarella, and exhausted from a week of not exactly sleeping. Director Asif Kapadia’s telling documentary was not my first choice. Not because I don’t adore Amy Winehouse, but because I wasn’t sure how emotionally prepared I would be to handle a raw and honest telling of her tragedy—and especially on my vacation. I wanted to end our trip on a happy note. In fact, we had intended to watch “Minions” (sorry, Sarah). Don’t even ask how these polar opposites were our choices for the night.

By the end of the 2-hour film, my face was stained with tears. In fact, I was the only person exiting the theatre in tears. I was affected, and I was upset. I also couldn’t understand why more people weren’t crying. We walked down the street to a bar. I was still crying. I really needed a drink. The irony of this fact after watching Winehouse’s life torn apart by drug and alcohol addiction was apparent; I even felt guilty about it. I ordered a glass of rosé.


I became a Winehouse fan during my sophomore year of high school. This was a time when I was unlived and dumb. I was dealing with low self-esteem and uncomfortable with my hermit crab ways. I was insecure, extremely shy and lacking all of the confidence. I wanted boys to like me, but they didn’t. I wanted friends, but I didn’t understand how basic conversation worked around new humans. I had a few people I could laugh with and talk to. I had my 10-year-old Jack Russell Terrier. I had my MySpace page. That was about it.

During this awfully awkward time, I became obsessed with Winehouse’s second release, “Back to Black.” The album, about heartbreak and negative views about one’s self, really connected with a lot of the gross, 15-year-old things I was feeling. At the time, Winehouse was in her early 20s when she wrote such a poignant, raw and deeply personal work. She had only recently escaped her teens.


By the time I was wrapped up in all thing’s Amy, the world around me was busy making her the butt of all their jokes. Her talent was disregarded, she was bullied for her addictions and stalked by paparazzi for the perfect shot of engagement in her least redeeming behaviors. When Winehouse came up in conversation, as she often did from 2007 through 2010, it was usually to call her a drug addict and a train-wreck; it was not to talk about how powerful an artist she was. I was definitely in the minority during this period. I didn’t care what people had to say about her, my young and idealistic self was sure she would be able to clean up her act, beat her addictions and release more unbelievable music.


A few years later, the morning of July 23, 2011 hit. I woke up. I read the news. I was devastated. My now 19-year-old self cried for most of the day. When I told people I was upset by Winehouse’s death, I got snarky responses like “You aren’t surprised?” and “We all saw this one coming.” Then came the awful memes. And then the posts knocking her death because “People die everyday, and she was just a crackhead!” And probably worst of all, then came the people who were suddenly sad that she was dead. These were mostly the same people who had ridiculed her at her weakest. Back at the bar, I was unable to articulate exactly how I was feeling. My fingers ran around the base of my wine glass. The mood was somber. The night’s atmosphere had changed. The next day we were getting on a plane back to southern California.


Winehouse was 23-years-old when she tried crack cocaine for the first time. I turned 23-years-old this year. She was 18-years-old when she began working on her debut “Frank,” which was released in 2003. “Back to Black” dropped 3 years later in 2006. In just a short span of time, the big haired, big voiced beauty began a downward spiral. At the peak of the album’s success, Winehouse needed help most, but she never received it. “Rehab” was written about her almost stint in rehab planned for 2006. The documentary notes that this may have been her most crucial missed opportunity. Her father Mitch Winehouse cancelled the planned rehabilitation in favor of furthering her career opportunities. “I ain’t got the time/and if my daddy thinks I’m fine.” 


“Amy” highlights a sweetly sensitive and caring young woman—one the media failed to show while she was here with us. Instead, her life was treated as a circus. She had no privacy. Images of her worst behavior and rumors of her drug use ran rampant. She never completed treatment because of the negative influence of her then husband Blake Civil-Fielder. When Winehouse finally entered rehab, Civil-Fielder insisted he go to rehab with her, against the advice of medical professionals. Days after exiting, he got her high again and the binges returned. “Amy” shows us a woman in her 20s suffering from bulimia, depression and addiction who fell apart in front of our very eyes. At the time, the world loved it; they ate it up. And the two men she loved most dearly in her whole world continued to push her and exploit her for their own gains.

“Amy” so subtly hints at a tortured, female artist emotionally shattered by a reliance on broken relationships At her lowest point, at the time she needed help the most, the control these men had over her career and happiness dominated her life. They prevented her from the recovery she truly needed. I don’t care if I’m placing blame. While Winehouse was responsible for her own behaviors, she was a fragile and mentally ill woman who was in no position to take that responsibility. Screw you Mitch. Screw you Blake. Even screw you Raye, her then manager at the time who went along with anything Mitch suggested in order to keep pushing Winehouse’s career forward.


When she lost her battle to addiction, the media quickly changed their tune. People were actually, really fans of hers the whole time! We’ve seen this before countless times, and it’s nothing new. Anyone heard of Michael Jackson? The people who wore Winehouse costumes as a joke at Halloween parties, the comedians who quipped about her and the tabloids that plastered her drunken nights on their covers were suddenly Really Sad™. As with many musicians and actors who die young, Winehouse was suddenly martyred. All of her “wrongdoings” were forgiven and forgotten: they didn’t matter anymore because there was no one like her! That voice! It’s just so tragic that so many people failed to appreciate her when we still had her.


Miss Winehouse has been gone for four years. “Back to Black” will turn 10-years-old next year. In her death, Winehouse became an icon, a legend and a tragedy. Her music is timeless. It transcends many trends and styles of current pop music. Kapadia’s masterful film brings awareness to the tragedy of Winehouse’s 20s as it intimately portrays a side to her most people were unaware of. Will the public learn from it? Will our western culture continue to shred people apart in the media? Do we regret how we treated her? Was Amy on this earth only to give us the gift of music through her own pain? I guess we’ll never know the answer to the last question, but we probably already know the answer to those preceeding.

Rest in peace Amy, and thank you; I’m sorry for everything.


(all Images and GIFs from Tumblr)

Why I Hate-Watch ‘The Bachelor’ TV Series

(image www.etonline.com)

Next week, 30-year-old “Bachelorette” Kaitlyn Bristowe, a dancer from Toronto, will choose between a crazy, possessive man from Nashville whom looks like Ryan Gosling, and a disliked sales executive from Chicago whom looks like someone you’d swipe left on Tinder for describing himself as an entrepreneur. (Oh wait, that will actually be two weeks from now because we need to listen to all the men trash talk each other to host Chris Harrison in the “Men Tall All” snooze-fest this coming Monday.) countdown-to-nick-viall-shawn-booths-bachelorette-confrontation

“Hey girl, I know I look like Ryan Gosling, but I won’t let you see your friends or family because of my tiny self-esteem”
(image from cdn.blogs.sheknows.com)

“The Bachelorette,” in it’s 11th season, is part of a greater phenomenon known as the “The Bachelor.” The series has been on the air since 2002, and has led to two other spin-offs, “Bachelor Pad” and “Bachelor in Paradise.” As problematic and obnoxious as these shows may be—for the most part they only select pretty white, straight, cisnormative people as contestants—It’s like a train wreck I can’t turn away from. On the air for 13 years, the series has spawned a generation of 20 and 30-year-old’s who believe they will find their husband or wife on a TV show…a TV show that lasts about 6 weeks. Yikes.


“Haha, women cry a lot.”
(gif from blog.chron.com)

While this last season of the Bachelorette may be the worst in the show’s history, (They faked a gay romance between JJ and Clint for ratings, edited the film to slut-shame Kaitlyn for sleeping with Nick and had men vote between two bachelorettes, sending one home feeling unwanted and defeated, AGAIN), It’s been my favorite to hate-watch because it’s just so bad. Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I think love is a wonderful thing. Yes, everyone deserves loves. But I don’t think it’s possible to have a clear enough head to objectively decide you’re in love when ABC is telling you how to behave and what to think, all the while in front of TV cameras. 628a49f0-0824-0133-5026-0ec273752cbd

Surprise Kaitlyn! The men are going to decide which one of you is MORE “wife material”
(gif from Bustle.com)

As this show becomes a hotter and hotter mess each season, I’m not any less likely to tune out. And while that probably should frighten me, It’s also two hours of escapism that allows me to turn off my brain once a week—and we all know I’m someone who does too much thinking. This show makes me laugh. This show probably makes me feel better about myself. This show makes me realize just how normal and healthy my current relationship is. While traveling the world and “falling in love” away from the troubles of life has been appealing to audiences for years, falling in love the old fashion way—not auditioning for a reality show and being humiliated in front of millions of people—is still the way to go.


Who wouldn’t want to wake up next to this?
(from serahmarieh.files.wordpress.com)

So, while an endless amount of couples get engaged for middle America and end up broken up three months later, I can stuff my face with some Boom Chicka Pop White Cheddar Popcorn (this isn’t a plug, I swear, it’s just really good), have a couple glasses of Sauvignon Blanc while I make fun of all the drama and let my brain take a much needed break from the day. I actually, truly wish the best for every couple that hopes to walk down the aisle after this show is done, I just don’t have much hope. And I’ve accepted that.

9 Emojis That Sum Up My Life

Like every early 20-something, I love emojis. They are essential in expressing myself online and through text. What better way to show the world how clever and sassy I am? When I glance over my most used icons, these nine are the reoccurring players in the digital drama that is my life.

1. The Nail Emoji


The quintessential icon of sass: the nail emoji. I freely admit this emoji is everything to me. Now excuse me while I paint my nails instead of listening to what you’re saying.

2The Wine Glass


So, it’s no secret that I love wine; it’s no secret that I love the wine emoji. My only complaint (suggestion, really) would be an update that allows us to switch the liquid to pink or white. You know I love my whites and rosés! Stay sassy and classy, my friends.

3. The Tears


As someone who both cries tears of sadness and tears of joy—and often—it makes sense this has a place in my commonly used list. I’m a sensitive person! This emoji gets me!

4. The Hairflip


Do I even need to explain this one? One of the most perfect emojis of all time with her carefree smile and flick of the wrist. Now she is even better; celebrate diversity y’all!

5. The Puppy


I love dogs with my whole heart. Naturally, I love this emoji with my whole heart. Dogs 4 Life.

6. The Hearts in Eyes


The awestruck emoji of love, admiration and fascination. I use this for everything I love, and I send it to pretty much everyone I love. It’s perfect and cute, and it makes me feel so warm and fuzzy just looking at it!

7. The Waving Hand


While I’m pretty sure this emoji was intended to represent politely waving goodbye, to me it represents waving goodbye to the garbage I don’t need in my life. I just love the sass of this hand. To negativity, stupidity and so on, BYEEEE!!!!

8. The Sunglasses


This guy is the coolest dude in the emoji game. I love this guy. He’s an image of inspiration to put on your slick Ray-Ban® shades and face the day like a boss.

9. The Unimpressed


Someone being a jerk? Send them this face. Someone being racist, sexist or homophobic? Send them this face. Someone trolling your social media comments because they *think* they’re funny? Send them this face. This face is pertinent in allowing me to show people I am thoroughly unamused.