26 Things I Haven’t Done or Can’t Do By 26

I am 26 today (woooooooo) and I thought I would write a list of things I have yet to do or accomplish or can’t actually do as a 26 year old adult woman. AKA: the list no one asked for because, really, no one gives a shit.


  1. I haven’t written a bestselling book.
  2. I haven’t been an award-winning anything.
  3. I haven’t been a dedication in someone’s book. Rude.
  4. I can’t do a handstand, cartwheel, or anything relating to putting my hands on the ground and kicking my feet in the air.
  5. I have never learned to be graceful. I am not well coordinated in any way, shape or form. I broke my toe tripping over air. AIR.
  6. I forgot (hated) to wear my retainer and now have crooked teeth … again.
  7. I don’t own a LBD.
  8. I don’t know how to eat slowly. I always eat food like I have been starved my whole life.
  9. I don’t know how to make really good coffee.
  10. I haven’t gotten the Harry Potter tattoo I keep talking to everyone about.
  11. I can’t whistle.
  12. I’m not married or have kids. To be honest, I haven’t ever had a serious, proper boyfriend.
  13. I haven’t won the lottery.
  14. I haven’t gone a day in the past year without doing cheesy finger guns after a bad pun.
  15. I haven’t ever run a mile. I walked it in high school (in under 10 minutes—that’s good, right? Right?).
  16. I can’t talk to a room full of people without turning bright, tomato red.
  17. I can’t and won’t ever stop thinking about the time in middle school when I forgot the dance routine to “Hot, Hot, Hot” and stood in the back of everyone during the half-time performance, flapping my arms about pretending I was doing what everyone else was doing.
  18. I can’t play any instrument nor carry a tune and that’s probably the saddest thing about me.
  19. I haven’t grown out of loving romantic historical fiction (yes, the books with the two half-naked lovers embracing on the cover is my kryptonite).
  20. I don’t have the perfect Instagram bod where I am all nice and toned and tanned. I’m more Pillsbury Doughboy than anything (pale and fluffy).
  21. I’ve never not finished a gallon bag of peanut M&Ms by myself. Probably why I don’t have the above.
  22. I’ve never had perfect skin. Is that a thing some people have? Are they just genetically blessed? How do I get perfect skin?!
  23. I haven’t ever been to a party where my very cool party trick of reciting either the opening chapter of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Store or the Prologue to Romeo and Juliet went over well.
  24. I’ve never shotgunned a beer that hasn’t immediately gone up my nose. I think I’m doing something very wrong.
  25. I’ve never been able to see the numbers 69 and not smirk.
  26. I don’t know a lot of things but speak like I have an authority on everything so never believe me. Or just pacify me and nod your head even though I’m probably wrong.

Things Found in My Notes: Part 1

If I don’t have a notebook on me, I’m often typing away in the notes section of my iPhone trying to get out whatever thoughts are currently rambling through my head. Sometimes when I type, I think it’s the most brilliant piece of writing that I’ve ever come up with. Then, I go back, read it, and think “what in the world was I even talking about?” I’ve decided to start sharing some of the pieces I’ve found in my notes. I hope you enjoy. Part 1.

October 12, 2012

I think I should start off by saying that I’m of average height. I’m not too tall, I’m not too short, I’m just somewhere in between. That explains a lot about me, to be honest. Explains most of the things in my life.

I’m afraid of many things, like falling asleep on buses and slipping in the bath tub. I fear the brittle cold of my fingertips when the heater shuts off for the evening and letting go of secrets late at night. I slip in this comfortable sadness too easily and that scares me the most.

I don’t like the sound of a car horn or of dogs barking too loudly. I hate the incessant heat of the summer where your clothes are sticking to your body and you can smell your own sweat. I hate how you get sleep in your eyes, such a silly term, but love it when a young child rubs at it early in the morning.

I hate the irregular pauses of my breathing when I’m about to have a panic attack. The fast breaths and pains in the bottom half of my chest. The shaking of my hands as I try to grasp on to something. To hold on to something that will keep me grounded and safe. I never feel too safe anymore.

I think I should tell you that, although I’m not religious, I love Christmas time. I love the songs and the snow and the excitement in the faces of strangers. I like the happy glow of lights on passing couples faces as they cross the street with their gloved hands interlocked. I love the rosy cheeks and the fact that you can see your breath whenever you talk or sigh.

You should know that I laugh too loudly at sitcoms when I’m by myself and cringe afterwards. I drink to forget things and fear that fact. That something bad could happen if I continue living that way. I always think something bad is going to happen and often run away at the thought. Run away at any possibility of something being good if it’s clouded with bad. My idea of bad.

I wear red lipstick too much and love when it’s smudged across my face. But, hardly speak aloud because I’m afraid most of the things I say are uninteresting. Especially after that boy told me I was prettier with my mouth shut in the darkness of his room.

I like being disheveled. Clothes falling off my shoulders and my hair in every direction. I smile too often and kiss people, who don’t mean anything to me, too passionately.  I stumble over my words and fumble around in the dark for a light switch in case of monsters.

I wish that I was much more interesting, so people would be drawn to me. I collect quotes and hide them in the nightstand of my bed. I write often about people that don’t think often about me. People I wish I could kiss passionately, but let slip away by kissing them tentatively.

I grow out my hair and get bored in the middle of the night and cut it off. When I’m lonely, I let the cool breeze from the window tickle my skin and hug my pillow to my chest.

I am often lonely.

I bite my lips so much they become bruised and I often point my toes towards each other when I walk and I don’t like to look at people in the eye because I fear they’ll know all my secrets and upon reading this I feel you’ll pierce my soul with your eyes and never want to speak to me again.