Sometimes that’s what you need.
It’s the person or thing that you want the most, that you often have to leave behind if you, yourself, want to move forward.


So bad

I guess I haven’t been posting a lot lately because it hurts to be in love.

Anyone who tells you differently is a flaming fibber.

It can and will ruin you if you let it. 

And for what? For being a good, open, caring, compassionate person? Yes.

Yeah, so in conclusion: life’s not fair. Sweet dreams, readerzzzzzz (pun intended.)

“In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.” Buddha

I find much truth in this quote. Life is not a competition, or a fairy tale, and things you have to force or compete for endlessly against all odds only end up hurting your heart and spirit, as you cling to false hope. Sometimes the most noble thing is to bow out and accept an alternate destiny, on your own terms.

Bow out with grace, peasant.

Screwed up kidz

Student: “Christina, what does ‘screw’ mean?”
Tutor: “Oh, you know, those metal shiny things you kind of pry into some wood with a drill to hold two pieces together! You made it to sixth grade without knowing that?”
Student: “No.. Isn’t it a.. BAD word?”
Tutor: “Define ‘bad.'”

I think I just caught a glimpse of the inevitable horrors of parenthood and all the fielding-of-questions it entails.

“You should write a blog,” they said!

I have concluded that my talents are as follows:
1) Singing to the Grateful Dead, alone, in my room, with no pants on.
2) Adding peanut butter chips to everything, including soups and salads. No comment on success/failure ratio.
3) Spending BANK on clothing articles that were in style decades ago and wearing them shamelessly. 
4) Raising my left eyebrow in expression of sardonic sass.
5) Experimenting in the kitchen. I even cook sometimes.

And they tell me I should know what to do with my life! “Go forth into the adult world,” they said! “It will be fun,” they said! “They” apparently aren’t familiar with my useless skill set!

I don’t think I’m gonna go to LA anymore.

There must be some kind of overseas fashion connoisseur movement that I’m oblivious to.

You know what I find really interesting and consistent and wacky among mostly teenage girls and young women? How the aforementioned cliques, when they go on a vacation or journey* of some sort, go absolutely HAM shopping for all these new outfits. They’ll drop loads of dough on this shit that they won’t wear again, like who some people spend big on their wedding gowns or perishable goods (both practices which I deem completely idiotic thank you very much.) Like, really? Silkworms spent the entire duration of their lives weaving you this paisley high-waisted romper in this spring’s hit color (orchid, you ignorant plebeian!) and you whip it out to wear to a dinner? ONCE? You have got to be some sick jokester. 

You know what I mean though, buying stuff they don’t normally wear at all for their, hm, one week trip to Barcelona. It’s not even gear, or some really hip hiking backpack, or freeze-dried astronaut ice cream sandwich snacks (“they travel so well!”) or the usual tourist paraphernalia or anything that will necessarily assist them on their journey*, it’s just clothing and shoes because apparently making great first visual impressions on foreigners you probably won’t ever see again is critical. God forbid you’re dressed like a genuine tourist in sweatpants and pure-white geeky-as-heck New Balances, and folks catch a glimpse of what you truly are- a fanny-pack-wielding, photo-snapping, cheap-food-eating wanderer who wants so desperately to impress others. 

It seems dumb for me to even notice this element of minutia, but it’s finals week and I can’t really bring myself to do any of my many outstanding assignments. I’ve barely got my head above water as it is, but I made dinner and did laundry tonight, so what more do you want from me? I have resorted to wholeheartedly stalking the historical depths of peoples’ Facebook profiles, and that’s what got me aboard this thought train. (Traveling pun intended completely.)

That’s the thing about technology and the modern age I hate so much-one click just kinda leads to another, ya know? Pretty soon you’re checking out your mother’s brother’s ex-wife’s baby pictures and you don’t even think it’s abnormal because this is 2014, and the only thing we’re not allowed to know about our peers or distant relatives is their social security digits. Sometimes. 

So anyway, I was Facebook stalking this chick who recently went on a trip, and she looked so different to me in the pictures. I was kinda like, uhmmmm gurlrrlllllrlllllllllllll. You never look like that in class, or at events, or at parties, or in my mind, or at home, or on the street, or in our city.. but abroad, she completely and spontaneously metamorphosed into this bohemian princess type thing with a totally bangin’ wardrobe I probably won’t get to see again til she gets on a plane to New Zealand or something. Definitely nothing local, that’s not worth dressing up for. 

Maybe she didn’t look any different and I just got to see her from some weird new angle that blew out the photo oddly or something, but that’s not even possible ergo I don’t know why I suggested it, so I can’t give her the benefit of the doubt. Can you still read this with the line crossing it all out? Darn. 

Maybe I’m reading too far into this, but you’re still reading my writing, and that’s a good sign. I’ll continue. You’re welcome.

It just seems like young/old/all people are overly concerned with the fantasy that can be found in places other than their own city. Places other than their own head. The lives of others. The future that’s presently only in the realm of imagination.

That’s fine, but your whole life takes place in your city, and in your head, and it always will. When you fixate on other places to try and escape (be they different in geography or time) you are living in a state other than the present. You’re attributing wondrous characteristics to these foreign lands, people, things, and thoughts that give them mental superiority and validity, in comparison to the blessings you have going on in your life right this instant. And by “you” I mean “me,” because I am the number one offender on this count, and I know it.

What is it that’s so not okay about our everyday selves, that we have to conceal it from others we don’t even know? And if it’s not about concealing something, it’s about impressing someone- so why then do we strive to impress the very same people, ones we don’t know from Adam?

What is wrong with trying to live for today, right now, the best you can, and treating the present with every bit as much care and planning as you treat your trip to Buenos Aires in four weeks? I get it that Trader Joe’s Chelsea isn’t exactly glamour central, but why must we look so different there than you do during extraneous travel circumstances? Is there some written rule inscribed on the inside of our eyelids that I somehow missed? Each day is special, and we’re not even guaranteed tomorrow.

There is nothing more special about your trip to Berlin than your trip to the bathroom in your hometown. I repeat, there is nothing more special about your trip to Berlin than your trip to the bathroom in your hometown. Each breath you take is a gift, so why aren’t you wearing that silk vacation romper to the park on Sunday instead of waiting til next August at the Jersey Shore? Don’t save your special things for a special day. Soon enough that special day will be tomorrow, and you’ll forget what you had saved up all this while, and before you know it, the special day will be long over. It’ll blend into the old memories you have of every other ordinary day gone by. The sun rises and sets on every day, and they’re all special. Live that way.


*Let’s just take a moment to note how I used the word “journey.” It sounds so heroic, like going to Barcelona to shop and get wasted with Eurotrash guys is something worthy of its own Star Wars-esque saga and a major motion picture trilogy. 

Eh who knows, if you do it right, perhaps it could be. I’ve got an open mind and it’s late, so anything goes.


Albert. The website, not anybody you know (I hope.)

So registration went well

The one class I did get into is the only one having zilch to do with either of my courses of study, so looks like a successful semester of me exclusively fulfilling my foreign language requirement is COMIN’ RIGHT UP


List o’ Thangs

Things I have learned since we last conversed*:

1. I really, really dig me some raw beets. Dice those suckers up and call it a day. Crunch.

2. If you only get one hour of sleep on a school night because you can’t stop talking to your best friend, no one will have sympathy for you when you complain about being tired. Just trust me.

In addition, your subsequent attempts to sleep on public transportation when you’re en route back to wherever you’re going will likely result in you waking up with a foreign woman sitting next to you scowling at your open mouth and drool. SCHWEET √

3. Giving a 20-minute long presentation when in the nearly-inebriated state indicated above is one of the hardest feats you’ll ever come across. Like afterwards, enter the Iron Man competition or something and tell me it ain’t a piece of cake compared to the presentation you just fought your way through, tooth and nail.

4. Sometimes the reason you’re miserable in your seemingly-awesome life is because you’re not living for you. At the end of the day, you’re the only constant (besides God, I believe) that’s lingering. Or that cares. If that’s too morbid for you, I’m sorry. 

Scratch that, I couldn’t care less because morbid things are very often true.

5. You might have an infinite capacity to love, but that goes hand in hand with an infinite capacity to become hurt (by yourself, by others, by the regrettably-empty strawberry frosting container in your cupboard, they can all do it to ya, man.) It’s human nature to love easily and be hurt easily, and if you’re a persistent motherfucker like me, you can bet you’re going to spend a lot of your young romantic life in severe pain. Cool, so enjoy that y’all

Like I said, morbid things are often true, and I think 4 and 5 classify as both.


Love, sunshine, blessings and smooches til next we meet,

Christina M. Hughes


*In no particular or chronological order because there isn’t anything about that in the job description for writing lists.

Also some of these things are about root vegetables and others are deep emotionally-stirring factoids so there’s that


It’s been a while and it’s all O-Chem’s fault.

That is 100% truth.

Now that the much-anticipated Organic Chemistry exam is in my recent wake, I feel I can disclose this information. One of the supposed “giveaway” questions asked what NAD is an abbreviation for. As soon as I read that question I was severely tempted to drive a Phillips-head screwdriver through my ocular cavity. Dead giveaway. As in, the question was a giveaway, and I wanted to be dead.

I thought for a moment, and decided on “Never Accept Defeat.” 

Get it? It’s a good philosophy in general, I thought. And, like, it’s ironic because I put that instead of “nicotinamide adenine dinucleotide” (who the heck could remember that shit anyway?) therefore I..well, y’all are brainy, you get the logic. 

Needless to say, if anyone was still confused- (at which I would be flattered) I AM NO CHEMIST. I am just a chick who loves food and music and being free in the spring breeze! Can I major in that or nah