My Most Triumphant Return to Blogging Ever



So it’s been almost a year since I’ve updated this blog. Which, you know, isn’t the greatest thing when you’re supposed to “love” all things writing–blogging included. Still, the fact that I’ve returned to this specific blog at all is unexpected. By all accounts, I should have started a new one with whatever blog name catches my fancy.

Instead, I’m back here. Still as long-winded and absent-minded as ever, but with the opportunity to restart. And to be honest, I’m not sure what that should entail. See, for the past week or so, I’ve been casually scrolling through the different website themes. “Just looking” and nothing else. Why? Well, I’m at a loss on what it is that I’m supposed to write about.

The whole idea behind writing a blog–for me–was having a platform where I don’t have worry about writing something that’s off-topic. Because this entire blog is “off-topic”. Yet, I find myself wanting some sense of structure. No, I’m not a book blog, but dang it’d be easier.

But screw it, I didn’t sign up for easy–I signed up for absenteeism.

I kid. Kind of.

With the new year literally hours away, the time for romanticizing change has never been better!

Sweeping declaration time: this blog will get back on track. Tomorrow, my goals for 2018.


Yes, We Can

There is no better way to start this then by quoting a large segment of (former) President Obama’s Farewell Address:

But for now, whether you are young or whether you’re young at heart, I do have one final ask of you as your President–the same thing I asked when you took a chance on me eight years ago. I’m asking you to believe. Not in my ability to bring about change–but in yours.

I am asking you to hold fast to that faith written into our founding documents; that idea whispered by slaves and abolitionists; that spirit sung by immigrants and homesteaders and those who marched for justice; that creed reaffirmed by those who planted flags from foreign battlefields to the surface of the moon; a creed at the core of every American whose story is not yet written: Yes, we can.

Yes, we did. Yes, we can.

And then I cried like a baby.


For the most part, I haven’t mentioned politics on here. Not because I don’t think they’re important (they are) or because I’m apathetic (I’m not). But it’s been a week and a half since President Trump was inaugurated, and I have to address what’s happened.

Initially, I wanted to be one of those Democrats who looked on in disdain, but had scruples of hope. Even more so, I just wanted to be a citizen who wants the best for my country–country before party. I didn’t want to be a person who goes around touting “not my President” though several Republicans spent all of Obama’s days in office doing just that–and worse. Precisely the reason why I refused to do so, because I did not want to lower myself to that abysmal level.

But I just can’t. Most of his actions range from nonsensical (provoking a longtime ally) to downright unconstitutional (do I really need to give an example?). This isn’t what America stands for–this isn’t what this country was founded on.

Now I could go on and on about President Trump’s awful policies, but there are other outlets that do it in a better manner than I could. Despite our dear President’s rants, The New York Times is very much not fake news, and a subscription is ideal to those who want to know what goes on in not only our backyards, but also around the world. Some libraries have several newspapers available to the public, if cost is a concern to you. Ultimately, we need to visit credible sources, not just read headlines on our Facebook feeds.

In times like these, we have two paths to choose from–that of conformity and that of resistance. It’s easy to think that there’s nothing a single person can do, or worse–that someone else will do it for us. It’s easy to grow cynical, or worse–apathetic. But we are all capable of doing something, even if it’s something as simple as a phone call. Even if it’s something as simple as donating $5 a month to the ACLU or Planned Parenthood or any other organization that serves your beliefs and interests.

In the face of adversity, we can all persevere. So long as we can remember that we’re all human beings and that doesn’t change the second we step outside of our country. We are stronger united. It is not only unfeasible, but irresponsible to adopt an isolationist mentality.

If they come for me in the morning, they will come for you in the night.

Angela Davis


A Recovering Optimist

An optimist is somebody that goes, “Hey maybe something nice will happen.” 

Why the fuck would anything nice ever happen?

Louis C.K.


When I was a teenager, I was (a) angst-ridden, as many adolescents are and (b) a self-proclaimed optimist. Angst always attempted to undermine Optimist Wendy’s convictions.

One of the questions I struggled with was whether the source of my optimism mattered–whether it had any effect on the end results. Was it still optimism if it only came about because of force? Was it still optimism when it came from a disingenuous place?

At the time, I liked to believe that my optimism was that much more potent because it came from a place of conflict. Surely no one believes that good things will happen out of sheer luck and without an ounce of doubt. Choosing to believe in the best takes resolve. Resolve that I don’t quite have anymore.

It isn’t that I consider myself a pessimist. It’s too easy to be a pessimist–a cynic. Certainly not a perspective that’s ever seemed at all attractive to me. What good comes out of resigning yourself to gloom and despair? According to a friend, you end up either right or pleasantly surprised. But I have trouble accepting that. If you come from a negative thought process, can you truly appreciate when good comes around? I’d think that you’d spend your time wondering, “What’s the catch?”

Or even worse, “When is the other shoe going to fall?”

(Yes, apparently I’m convinced all pessimists think in clichés.)

Still, I’m hardly an optimist. It’s taxing–it’s exhausting to rationalize why certain things happening are actually blessings in disguise. In truth, to be an optimist you have to both believe that good things will happen, but also concurrently believe that things happen for a reason. And that, to me, just isn’t true. Sometimes things just happen and there’s no rhyme or reason for it.

Sometimes things go great and sometimes things just plain suck.

If forced to label myself, I suppose that the appropriate title for me would be realist. I don’t resign myself to a depressive future, but at the same time, I’m not convinced that everything will be rainbows and sunshine. Reality is what you make of it. All you can really do is trudge through the obstacles and celebrate your triumphs.

And yet…

A part of me still wants to be an optimist.



I’ve spent approximately 10 minutes (no joke) trying to start this post. Do I start with a generic “Happy New Year!” as I’ve done in the past? Do I make the obvious observation that every year begins rather the same–filled with hope and promise?

Or do I cut corners and simply begin?

My thoughts on New Year’s Resolutions have changed over the years. Some years I think they’re a ridiculous notion that prevent people from self-improvement year-round. Other times I think, who cares? If it gives a person the push they need to make changes in their lives, what’s the harm?

It just so happens that this year, I have goals and resolutions. On top of that, I’ve also chosen a word for the year. (Who am I?)

When I first heard of the concept, I was a bit skeptical. The benefits of referring back to a word like balance or simplify were lost on me. They just seem like flowery words that a person uses to seem deeper than they actually are. They are words that have lost their meaning over time through improper and overuse. Put simply, they are words that don’t resonate with me.

I didn’t want a pretty sounding, but empty (to me) word. The goal was to find one that spoke to the higher truth of who it is that I want to be in the new year. And not just the new year–but from here on out.

Which is why the word that I chose is:

persevere (verb.)
continue in a course of action even in the face of difficulty or with little or no prospect of success.

It was the latter part of the definition that sold me: “with little or no prospect of success.” That perfectly encompasses the person I once was–the person I so desperately wish to be again. I want to be the kind of person who chases their dreams even when it is impossible to visualize success.

And as I type this, I only begin to understand exactly how true that rings. I want to be foolish when it comes to my aspirations. To feel exhaustion set in and rejoice that it comes from a worthy endeavor–from something of value and meaning to me. I want to give all of me to that which I love.

What other reason is there to live?

So now I transition to the other part of this post:


Resolutions are “firm decision[s] to do or not do something.” Goals are what we ultimately are striving for. Thereby it seems that resolutions are more about intent? Regardless, here’s what I hope to accomplish in 2017.

Write 150 posts.

This averages out to three posts a week. It’s a goal that I have every year, and every year I fall incredibly short (which is funny because I’m short. Get it, get it?). And yes, this post was supposed to go up on Monday, a sign that ordinarily would not bode well for me. Still, here’s the post anyway.

Plus I’ve still got two more days for two more posts. It’s fiiiiine.

Some smaller, but related, items: update my about page and social media accounts.

Read 50 books.

Hooray for repetitiveness! And self-explanatory goals!

Two things I would like to add. (1) In order to become more cultured, I also want to tack on the goal of reading one book from the TIME 100 list. (2) I won’t shy away from abandoning books. There are too many out there to waste my time trudging through one.

Watch 50 movies.

Over the past couple of years, movies have become more engrossing for me. My newfound joy was in large part my best friend’s doing. It’s a great pastime and I don’t feel as though 50 is too far a stretch considering I saw 30+ movies last year (that’s just counting the new releases, not the new-to-me films).

An addendum to this, as with the books, is that I hope to watch at least one movie from the AFI 100 list every month. Again–to be cultured and whatnot.

Reach goal weight of 110.

Weight has consistently been a struggle for me. About three years ago, I was about 15 pounds away from my goal weight. Then life, and the cons of a long distance relationship, happened.

But with a plan in place, I’m reaching my goal weight–and maintaining it.

Transfer to a four-year institution.

For the past six years, I’ve struggled with getting a higher education. First, I got kicked out of UCSB after my first year. Since then, I’ve floundered around at community colleges for god knows how long. But I’ve floundered enough that it might be possible to finally transfer to a “real” school. It might take a long time, but I will get that diploma.

This last one is perhaps the most frightening of all–

Get a literary agent and publish something.

And just as it was with the introduction to this post, I’ve spent about 10 minutes debating whether I should leave this in. It’s scary to not only put into words, but put out in the open. Because now it’s not just a crazy dream. It’s a crazy dream that I will actively pursue.

Though I still plan on finishing school to get a degree in accounting, I’m not going to become complacent just living with that. I will not settle for my plan B.

Welcome, year of no sleep.

In the Event Someone Reading This Knows Me IRL: …Hi?

Today’s post is brought to you by the illogical fear of a girl whose got a public blog.

(I will never get tired of that lede. Or misusing the word lede. Never.)


Fun fact: For as many blogs as I’ve neglected, I have never shared them with anyone who knows me in real life. In fact, that’s always been a point of paranoia–which I counteracted by removing my identity as much as possible. There was a moment back in high school when someone came scarily close to discovering my blog. My response? Frantically log on a school computer and make my blog private.

Now see, that move actually made sense. I was smack dab in the middle of my teenage angst–all I wrote about was my unrequited love, terrible teachers, and every embarrassing topic I possibly could. Want a crash course in oversharing? Visit my terribly named blog.

Except don’t, because it’ll hurt your sensibilities.

But this blog? This blog has posts that I’ve given thought to–ideas that I stand by. Inconsistent posting schedule aside, I have nothing to be ashamed of. And yet the very idea of discovery still unnerves me. (Which, of course, is why my domain is the same as my social media accounts. What? I never said I was smart…)

It’s an interesting phenomenon to want your words made public and still refrain from sharing them with a captive audience. Yet, there is a chance, no matter how seemingly insignificant, that someone I know is reading this. The oddest thought, of course, being that it’s a mere acquaintance.

So I’ve decided to take this as a long winded opportunity to properly welcome anyone who actually knows me. Hi there–welcome to my blog.

You’ll notice that I don’t write with regularity–indeed even missing the entirety of November. That is not on purpose. The lack of a set and proper subject matter, though, that is on purpose. I’d like to think that with this upcoming year, my blog will gain structure, but it probably won’t. It will, however remain an evolving soapbox (said with a drop of sarcasm, I promise) and stay true to its word. Loose with Keys will always be recklessly verbose and mildly self-indulgent. It will always capture the ramblings and occasionally nuanced thoughts of a work-in-progress.

It is my integrity manifested.

It is a place where I say pretentious things like “integrity manifested” without considering how idiotic they sound.

If you are reading this and know me, know this: what you have before you is a catalog to my mind. Even your 15 seconds of feigned interest are enough for me. If you are reading this and know me, know this: the moment you mention any of this–deer in headlights.

Back to my regular posts then.