I just spent 20 minutes trying to take the perfect snapchat selfie to send to my crush.

I’m talking setting up natural lighting (opening my curtains), making sure I looked effortlessly flawless (mascara and lip gloss), and sitting perfectly (pushing the hem of my kimono up to expose leg). All this for a 7 second picture they won’t even respond to.

Because I obviously couldn’t just send it to my crush, a bunch of my friends got the picture too. I worked hard to get that look, okay. Within minutes, I had responses about how pretty and put together I looked. I laughed. They obviously don’t know what happens behind the scenes.

They didn’t see me laying in my towel staring at the ceiling for 15 minutes before deciding I felt good enough to take a selfie.

They didn’t see me desperately trying to tame my curls because just once I’d like them to not lay flat thank you.

They didn’t see the dozens that I deleted because something was off.

They didn’t see me finally get a great picture, only to realize I had lipstick on my teeth and had to start all over.

I am a mess.

But somehow, without really trying to, I am fooling everyone. I’ve made a couple of posts on my personal Facebook this year about the dark sides of social media – how behind all my smiling Instagram photos, there’s a woman who has cried herself to sleep numerous times. Behind the beach throwbacks is someone who typed with shaking hands because the stress and anxiety she was facing every day at school was getting to be too. damn. much.

I am a workaholic. I take on way more than I can handle, and enjoy the feeling of being busy and full with energy. I don’t sleep well. I don’t drink coffee. And I don’t manage my stress very well.

But damn I can pretend.

I hope you join me as I begin to start this next crazy adventure. 2016 has been a whirlwind of change for me, and most of it has been really great. I have big hopes and ideas for the future, but I need a space to creative vomit everywhere.

Red Hot (Mess) is going to be a place of unfinished work (I pretend to write a lot), messy thoughts (this brain is a rambling mess that doesn’t know how to breath), and rough poems (I hate poetry, but sometimes I just have a lot of feelings). Maybe at some point – if you ask really nicely – I’ll give you some advice. Just shoot me an email, but proceed with caution. My advice is usually to screw what everyone else thinks and just do what you want anyways.

I can’t promise you’ll like this blog; I can’t even promise that it will work out in the long run, but I’m going to try. Really hard.


Red Hot



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