Roots N Blues and an Empty Wallet

I have this thing called FOMO. It stands for “fear of missing out.” Essentially, I want to do everything I can because I’m afraid I’ll miss something big or important.

This weekend, Columbia hosted its eighth annual Roots N Blues (RNB) festival. I’d never been. I actually heard about it for the first time last year and thought it was just a tiny concert in the street.

I was wrong. It’s a big deal. A really big deal.

I’d never been to a music festival in general for this year’s RNB, and I didn’t plan on going this year. There were several great bands going, but I just couldn’t justify the $85 for a weekend of non-productivity.

However, we were sitting in our morning budget meeting for The Missourian and Tom asked who was attending. On impulse, I raised my hand and immediately posted on Mizzou Ticketmarket in hopes that someone would sell me a cheap ticket, if only for one day.

I finally got someone to offer me a weekend ticket for $50 and I took it without thinking about the repercussions on my bank account.

After I made the money/ticket exchange, I felt sick. I don’t have the money to do fun things and still afford to buy excess amounts of coffee.

Regardless, I went. I only attended Saturday and Sunday, but as soon as the temperature dropped to 75 degrees in the park, I knew I made the right decision.

This semester has already been one of the most stressful of my college career. I’m in constant fear of failure and judgment. I hide in coffee shops for hours and avoiding social situations because I feel like I have so much to do that I can’t do both.

Roots N Blues was exactly what I needed. Though this week will be the end of me because I didn’t finish the homework I was supposed to over the weekend, I have no regrets. I had an amazing time, hung out with amazing people, heard amazing music, had the best doughnut of my life and thought nothing of my obligations to school and The Missourian. It was the breath of fresh air the doctor ordered. (There wasn’t actually a doctor, but I bet he/she would have ordered it.)

In conclusion, I’ve decided that yes, school is important and I need to become A LOT better with time management. BUT I need to take time for myself. I feel like I’m constantly going and have lost all focus to the extent that I studied on the roof of a parking garage to escape distraction.

So thank you RNB for providing a delightful weekend and a chance to live.

Roots N Blues

Single Girl Diaries — The Return

During the course of this past spring semester, I was fortunate enough to write a weekly column for The Maneater, the University of Missouri’s student-run paper. However, this year I’ll be writing for The Columbia Missourian and unable to continue my weekly column. The good news is, I have a blog. 

Now I’m not promising a weekly look into my lackluster love-life, but I will be keeping anyone bored enough to read this updated. 

My column, the Single Girl Diaries —or SGD, as I affectionately refer to it—began as a fun joke for myself. I enjoy making others laugh and what better way than through my personal experiences? So I started off with a personal favorite of mine: I Heart to Fart. But as my stories progressed, I began to learn more about myself. I’ll be the first to admit that my writing is extremely subpar and I (more often than I wish to admit) wrote my column in the hour before it was due. But it was my happy place. I’ve never loved/hated writing so much. When I couldn’t think of something to say, I sat and fumed, angry with myself for not having a topic, but when I did have a story, my fingers flew across the keyboard as I recounted my tales. The Single Girl Diaries was my own version of Carrie Bradshaw’s Sex and the City column, sans sex and city. It was my time to put everything on the table and spill my thoughts. So now that I have even more freedom to write what I want, when I want, prepare yourselves. The Single Girl Diaries are back, less censored and unedited. 

To start things off, I’ll update you on my summer love life. It didn’t exist. I did get invited on a milk run by a cute guy from work, so that’s exciting. But we literally bought milk. Strawberry. He bought it for me. It was great. I haven’t really spoken with him since. 

Now that we’re all caught up on that, I’d like to briefly address the topic of crushes. Crushes appear so innocent, but they can be a dangerous thing. I mean, come on. It’s literally called a CRUSH. As in crush my heart and dreams if you don’t like me back. 

So I have a crush (let’s be honest, multiple crushes). But I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know if they think I’m flirting or just being nice. Honestly, I can’t tell myself. I also barely know them, so I don’t know what to say to them or talk about. I can usually muster a nice conversation about mutual classes, but that’s a sure dead end.

What next? How about this weather? Do you like piña coladas? Cool. I can’t drink. How about walking in the rain? No? You hate rain? Cool… I’ll just turn around and walk away now. 

I struggle with conversation. I don’t know what to say. I freeze up. My stomach drops. Gosh, I sound like I’m 13-years-old. I pretty much am. Twenty going on 12 sounds about right. 

I’ve decided to compile several GIFs (pronounced JIF, you ignorant heathens) to give you an idea of me flirting.

21-jump-street When I try to talk to someone attractive.

community-abed Trying to flirt.

kristen-wigg-lick Trying to look cute.

lizze-mcguire-dawg Trying to sound cool/hip.

spongebob-hides Hiding after everything goes terribly wrong.


So here’s where I stand: I really like this guy. He barely knows I exist. I only know I really like him thanks to the evil that is social media. I don’t know what to do. I swiped right for him on Tinder a week ago and he hasn’t swiped me. It’s driving me crazy. I need to stop now. I also really need to delete my Tinder…

Thanks for reading my weird, thoughtless rant about being awkward. Hopefully I’ll have more to report in the future. 

Signing off – Ellise