Okay, well.

This is a little awkward. I didn’t expect to find me here.
I thought my “hiatus” post would be the end of it. I tried to mentally break up with Folly. I let people know I was done; I began to emotionally untie myself from this site, and I focused on other outlets for writing. But- like a true hormonal human, I became overcome with nostalgia for Folly one day-out of the blue- and irrationally posted the “Greys” post. It’s like my own sick version of contacting an ex you swore off for good. I imagine that Lady Antebellum song, “Need You Now” playing in the background as I hit “publish” for the Grey’s piece. Like it always plays out in this situation (we’ve all been there), I realized what I had done, felt silly, avoided Folly, and now have the desire to explain myself.

When Folly started, I saw an outlet and I ran with it. I had funny things to say that I found myself and my friends really enjoying. It made girls nights fun, and these are now moments we all scroll back to and laugh at. From the beginning, I was consistent and structured in the content I was producing. I was diligent and intentional about each piece. If I was going to put something out there for everyone to see, I wanted it to be great. And it was! It is! I’m a proud mother hen. Folly has grown up to be an upstanding piece of internet property. Of course it has, look at who raised it!

Folly feels like the first born child that I’ve pushed out of my mental womb. However, I’ve been struggling to visualize where I really see this going anymore. Obviously, I can’t quit it as efficiently as I’d like to. Plus, I am NOT a quitter. I wouldn’t admit it if I was, but why would I even bring it up and just lie to you like that? That would be so messed up. Anyways, back to me. I’m trying to articulate that this space isn’t just a playground for me to expend energy. I’m emotionally tied to it and I do take it seriously. If I’m going to do Folly, I’d like for it to have intent and purpose. So, it’s weird. I’m not totally sure I even want to fully quit at all. This is where the struggle is.  A part of me did think that a little break from Folly would let me recalibrate. That’s what I wanted. Like maybe, miraculously, the time apart would bring Folly back into my line of vision. On the other hand, I think I also took that “hiatus” post as a little exit strategy to dip out. I think that’s what I bet on more heavily. If I can be honest with you, -and, this space is mine so I’ll do what I want- I started to find this whole thing really ridiculous. All of it. I was hoping that I could shake that feeling, but it just grew. Let me explain.

The audacity for me to post things on the internet about myself, expecting people to be excited/interested/invested/etc, was something that I acknowledged every single time I posted something. I guess that feeling wore me down. I recognize how narcissistic this space can seem- and it made my “voice” on here almost unbearable to me. It just started to feel selfish and self promoting, and I don’t want to feel that way. I mean, what’s the end goal, here? Is it to show you that I’m funny? To prove to you that I have a social life worth admiring? To make you agree with my sentiments on restaurants in Atlanta? I don’t write on here because I think my comments on restaurants are valid or even valuable. I don’t subject you guys to my Q+A responses because I feel too wise to keep those gems to myself. I know I’m funny, so I don’t write all of those jokes to convince you of my undeniable wit. I write all of these things because the writing process is incredibly enjoyable to me. Not once have I written a post with an audience of readers in mind. I mean, I think of the people reading it, but I’m writing to you, not for you. I don’t think about how cool this topical joke is going to make me sound, or how many times the post will be read, or if people will like it. I write it, post it, wait for my dad to text me about a grammatical error or an inappropriate joke that I should remove, do an eye roll, and then that’s it. It kind of always ends there. The positive feed back I get is amazing, but it’s never fueled Folly. I’m going to write these things regardless of Folly’s existence, I’ve been writing plenty since I “quit” Folly- but the posting is what has stopped. I just need to get that out there. I think I just needed it to be said. I read blogs every morning as I’m getting ready for work, and so many of them began to feel contrived and like “one big humble-brag dump of internet space” (so eloquent) as I would read through them. It’s gross. There is a difference between using this medium to bring people into your life and head-space versus using this medium for a less sincere agenda. I got grossed out and I needed to leave. I just needed to step away, disassociate, and clarify my intention. So, I feel like I’ve come to some sort of resolution.

 

I doubt I’ll re-purchase this domain when it expires, but I’d still like to write on here, when the moment is right, while I still have the chance.

The hard part is, I still have so much to say. Let’s hope I can fit it all in.

Why I’ll Never Dye My Greys

At the ripe age of 14, I found my first grey hair. Sure, I had a moment of panic, of absolute terror, but what can I really do about it? I was too young to be complaining about this being a sign of “aging”, so I just went with it. I think it was my best friend Rebecca, at summer camp, who ripped it out before I got a chance to see it thriving in its natural habitat. For a specific reason, I’ve never been one who plucks their grey hairs out. But honestly, it’s truly mesmerizing to see how many friends will do you that “favor” when you’re not exactly asking them to. The thing is, over time, I’ve grown to absolutely love them.

Like I said, I don’t pluck them for a specific reason. The day I tried to, I was sitting in my grandmothers Cadillac Brougham and chatting with her about who knows what. I flipped the mirror down in the passengers seat and spotted a “grey”, and it took that woman .5 seconds to snatch my tiny wrist into a chokehold before my impending grey-hair-mutilation and she scolded me on the importance of keeping all of them in mint-condition. I played it cool, agreed, and silently made an appointment with the hairdresser to dye my hair. I understood her sentiment, but I didn’t dare to be different. The hair would still technically be there, but just touched up a bit.

Well. I did it. And now I’m here to tell you why I didn’t repeat it, and why I’ll never do it again.

The moment I was wrapped in aluminum foil like some delicious Thanksgiving leftovers at the hair salon, I started to feel this deep sadness and regret for what I was doing. I felt like I was washing my families genes out of my hair, like I was messing with nature. I never hated the greys, and they definitely gave me a little character. They were most definitely a go-to conversation starter. But they were different, and so I felt like they needed to go. Greys are the universal sign of aging, but I’m not sure why that’s necessarily a bad thing. We have so many cute quotes about how wrinkles are proof that we “lived/laughed/loved”, but nothing to cover the asses of those who grey too soon, or even right on time. In a world where grey’s are initially avoided like the plague, they’ve evolved into something unique. I’m way more used to seeing elderly people with unnaturally dark hair than I am people gracefully and confidently reppin’ their greys. In my most honest opinion, greys are so bizarre. They’re kinky and wirey, they stick out like a sore thumb, they’re impossible to tame, and they’re mesmerizing to strangers. They sparkle. When you’re young and sparkly, they’re special and unusual and people always want to touch them. I love that. When you’re older, they’re regal and graceful (to me). Like laugh lines and crows feet, they’re a sign that you’re alive and thriving. That you’ve been places and seen things, even if you’re wrinkling and greying at 14. I realized all of that when I was sitting at the hair salon. I had made a huge mistake, and I missed my sparkles. Honestly, they get better with age. My mother has the most beautiful snowy-white hair that I pray to the high heavens I acquire when the time is right. I dyed my hair for all the wrong reasons. I didn’t ever feel very strong negative feelings about my greys, so the whole thing seemed pretty moot and expensive.

As a 26 year old, I realize that it may be annoying that I’m preaching that “grey is grey-t“. It could be annoying or objectionable because I don’t feel old. So, what do I know about the internal conflict of growing older, the time when your appearance is catching up to your age. I don’t. My greys are not a sign of growing old for me, they’re just a sign of some strong genes. It’s important you know that I know the difference.
Most people don’t find themselves in my position at 14 years old. They dye their greys because they want to stop the train. They want to Benjamin-Button back to their youthful deep locks. For those people, the instinct for some is to dye. I get that reflex, I do. But for me, I think I’ll embrace them, and the ever-changing hues atop my head. I love my brown hair, and I’ll be sad when it eventually goes, but I refuse to fight that battle. Beauty is 100% objective, but the kind of beauty I admire is nourished by internal confidence that exudes out to those around you. Theres a difference, to me, between dying your hair a different color to “go outside the box” or “try something new” versus covering up grey hair because you hate it or don’t understand it. I feel like its covering up something about who you are. But who am I to judge, honestly. If you’re born a brunette but feel you’re best as a blonde, go for it. If dying your roots is what it takes for you to ‘feel yourself’, go for it. I’m just giving you an out here. And I don’t blame you if you want to jump on my bandwagon.

To further my point, let me introduce you to one of the most beautiful humans that I’ve seen (besides my mother, naturally):
Linda Rodin

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

FOLLY: BRB

Folly started on a complete whim. I had been restless all night long and didn’t get a wink of sleep. With my laptop open, I just started to write. And write. And write. And then post. That’s truly how Folly was born. I’ve always said that nothing good can come past 11:00pm, especially when technology is concerned. (I’m looking at you, drunk-texters). But Folly did. And it was good. I didn’t know what it was going to turn in to. Honestly, I still don’t.

But I love it. I love writing these ridiculous posts and somehow you like reading them.

I’ve never been one to half-ass or involve myself in something only halfway. When something stops being fun and starts becoming something you procrastinate on, it’s time you take a break to rediscover why you loved it in the first place.

So I’m going to do that. I’ll be back.

FOLLY: PLAYLIST12

Absolutely doused in Arcade Fire, Tame Impala, and the Alabama Shakes. Purely for your enjoyment.

Playlist 12 (click for Spotify) 

May you play this on a rooftop while sipping on The Deep End. Happy Friday

Let It Happen- Tame Impala
Porno- Arcade Fire
Third Eye- Florence + The Machine
Dunes- Alabama Shakes
‘Cause I’m A Man- Tame Impala
Teenage Talk- St. Vincent
It’s Never Over (Hey Orpheus)- Arcade Fire
Can’t Keep Checking My Phone- Unknown Mortal Orchestra – I hope you’re coming to their show Saturday night!!!!
Shoegaze- Alabama Shakes
Eventually- Tame Impala
Sound & Color- Alabama Shakes
Here Comes The Night Time- Arcade Fire
When The Lights Turn Out- Twin Shadow
Gunshot- Lykke Li
La Loose- Waxahatchee
Entropy- Grimes
Guess Who- Alabama Shakes
Air- Waxahatchee
Vamala- Champs
The Suburbs (cont.)- Arcade Fire
River- Leon Bridges
Dimming Light- Tennis
Disciples- Tame Impala
Hiding- Florence + The Machine
The Shade- Metric
Pieces- Tanlines
The Thrill is Gone- BB King
Don’t Swallow the Cap- The National
Cascades- Metric
Jungle- Panama

Why are you sorry?

IMG_5243I feel like, growing up, learning to say “I’m sorry” was an obstacle for all kids. It definitely was for me. I remember getting sent to the principles office for LITERALLY throwing rocks at 4 boys on the playground. In my defense, they were being super rude and I didn’t have the brain capacity to reason with them intelligently. I was six and I just “couldn’t even”. Even then, I found those obnoxious boys later that day and said that I was sorry and I meant it. I was aware of the discomfort of it. Humbling yourself and admitting guilt is human emotion we had to purposefully allow ourselves to accept and feel. You’re taught very young to apologize for causing harm or being inconsiderate. When you hit someone, stole something, had a tantrum, hurt someones feelings. That “I’m sorry” means something. It’s heavy with intent and purpose. It’s still hard for me to say that kind of “I’m sorry”.

That doesn’t stop me from saying “I’m sorry” at least 20 times a day.

It’s scary to think that the majority of the times you hear “sorry”, they don’t mean a thing. They carry almost no weight. Let me clarify: the intention is there, but there is no meaning to “I’m sorry” like this. I know females get a lot of flack for this. It’s not a girl thing, but for us maybe its just a stronger reflex. But (the collective) we all do it. Because it’s so uncomfortable to say when you really mean it, maybe we’ve softened the blow of it by overusing it. The “sorry” you say when you’ve sneezed too loud, corrected someone, stood up for yourself, put yourself first, asked for help. It’s even become part of our vernacular to, when perplexed, apologize (“I’m sorry, WHAT??”). Are we really apologizing, or is it a placeholder? I like to call this a “soft sorry”. Is “I’m sorry” the new “um”? If the phrase has evolved, why? How did we get here? How do we get it back?

I’m not reinventing the wheel here, I’m not the first person to talk about this. “apologize less” has to be on everyones New Years Resolution list somewhere between “workout more” and “save up money”- but here we are.

In the same vein, I’m very intrigued by the internal ramifications of saying “I’m sorry”. I feel like it’s obligatory to say sometimes, and then I’m convincing myself that I should actually be sorry for something that I’m not. I’m expected to say it and everyone’s watching, like your mom sharply nudging you to hug that weird family member that you really don’t want to hug. For example, I’ll correct someone on something, and lead it by saying, “I’m sorry, I’m so obnoxious- but…”. How did I apologize and shoot myself down in one sentence for something completely legitimate? Why did I even say that? The act of saying sorry puts a bit of guilt on me because thats what saying sorry IS. When I don’t mean it,  it makes me submissive when I have something valid to say. Or had to sneeze. Or want to prove a point. Or need to defend myself. I’ll catch myself every time- but I still say it, and I’m sure it won’t completely stop. And it sounds terrible, but sometimes I’ve pulled an, “you know what, I’m not sorry.” And it sounds a little rough on your tongue at first, but then it starts to feel good. And has weight.

To take it further, consider the external implications of “I am Sorry”- whether you mean it or not. To the person you’re talking to, I’d argue that you’re giving them a little bit of power (leverage at the very least), you’re humbling yourself. You’re asking for their forgiveness, and you’re letting them know that you see yourself as guilty here. I’ve stopped people in the middle of a soft-sorry. They usually realize that they aren’t truly sorry, and take it back. which is fair. I think its really important to catch these soft sorry’s before they spread. It’s debilitating to our language. For example, let’s say you want to defend yourself in an argument. You interject and you have things to say. Too many times I’ve seen it play out. You’d start with “I’m sorry, but I’ve had enough of this” or “I’m sorry, what did you say???”. But look, you aren’t sorry. You’ve had enough. You want to address it. But before you even get to speak, you’ve said this phrase that exists solely to ask for forgiveness for harm that you’ve caused. To be blunt, if you’re trying to win an argument– don’t start by apologizing. Whether it’s a fight or not, you’re structuring your entire conversation or interaction on an apology. Why is this a thing? You might think it makes you look lady like or charming,  I really don’t think it does. Don’t get me started on those who are infamous for the “I’m sorry, but (insert insult here)”. your weak “I’m sorry” doesn’t buffer you from looking like an asshole. Sometimes “I’m sorry” can look lazy because its used for lack of a more fitting phrase. Replace your “I’m sorry” with something more constructive. Something with more of a backbone.

I truly think that the extinction of the “soft sorry” will strengthen our vocabulary and our confidence in the way we communicate.

Sometimes I struggle to realize when I should be apologizing and when I shouldn’t. I recognized that I’m predisposed to say it when it’s not necessary, and I want that to change. When in doubt, roll your eyeballs behind your head, look at your brain, and ask yourself if you’re really sorry. If you’re saying it because you feel awkward, or like you’re an inconvenience, or to fill an awkward silence, then focus on how not sorry you are about the situation. If the situation at hand makes you feel guilty and you feel like you owe someone an honest apology, look them in the eyes and say it.

I repeat: if you don’t truly feel sorry, then keep your pie hole shut or say something else. 

At the very least, I just really want you to be sorry less.

FOLLY: LATELY

Victory Sandwich Bar//Beeter Sandwich
– 7 of the 20 pictures i’ve instagrammed lately have most likely been captured at either of the two Victory locations in atlanta. B and I had our weekly Wednesdate at Victory a few weeks back. While we gossiped and told our deepest darkest secrets, we devoured the Beeter sandwich and sampled the new popcorn concoctions they’re slingin’ around the place. does NOT disappoint.
Victory/Paper PlaneVictory Sandwich Bar//PopcornAlso at Victory, my dear friend (and legally authorized representative) turned the ripe old age of 25 the other week. I was merely hours away from road tripping to camp, but couldn’t leave without squeezing my Ellyn and downing multiple cocktails. (Shining stars of the cocktail list: Paper Plane, Jack x Coke, and the Neutral Pleasure). For some reason, we all misread the Neutral Pleasure and were super confused when it came out. I, for one, ordered a Neutered Pleasure. Whatever. (Personally, that title is a goldmine)
VSB//Beeter VSB/PopcornSo glad a new Victory baby was birthed into a location much closer to my house. Now I have no excuse.

– Danskos. Well. I bought them.

-Lately I’ve been on a doughnut kick, no thanks to C. The Krispy Kreme on Ponce has a delicious conveyer belt of warm doughnuts that I can barely peel my body from.
Krispy KremeDecatur’s Revolution Doughnuts is a new personal favorite. From this box below, the Raspberry/Sprinkles was my favorite.

chocolate-chocolate, salted caramel, caramel bacon, raspberry sprinkle
chocolate-chocolate, salted caramel, caramel bacon, raspberry sprinkle

– a couple of weeks ago, C told me he was picking me up and only gave me 1 hint on our day’s activities: wear tennis shoes. because i am me, that resulted in me asking about 324,249,304,443 other questions…which he sweetly ignored.
about 40 minutes into our drive, we pulled up to Arabia Mountain.
it felt super sci-fi-ish when we first started hiking through it. Arabia Mountain has expansive land completely covered in granite, so it feels like you’re walking on the moon. We decided to stay off the trail and see where we ended up, which- i now realize- is how all horror films start. We turned out okay.

A bit into our hike, we got into the forest and heard the creek well before we saw it. regrettably, i have never ever been one to stop and “smell the roses” (i HATE that saying). i struggle always to “be here now”, but knew that this was one of those moments i should try to slow my roll for. right when we got to arabia mountain, we decided to go off the grid and turn our phones off for the afternoon, which helped keep us focused on the day. i took my phone out just once to snap this picture, because it was too perfect. we sat at the creek and it  felt uniquely calm and i decided that if i ever need to “zen out” and go to a happy place, it’s right here:

Arabia Mountain

– now that i’m done with camp and i can briefly chill, i’ve watched every season of Inside Amy Schumer and I feel like a better woman and a more well rounded human because of it. Katie and I are also staying very up to date on Teen Mom OG because WHY WOULDN’T WE.

– obligatory KH mention: get the profiteroles. i’d eat those for every meal if i could.

– as promised, i want to introduce you to the one of the most important men in my life (with 4 legs).
Turgismeet turgis “apple bottoms snugglesworth” mitchell.
he loves laser pointers and getting running starts to throw his body against the door (to catch flies, of course). we do NOT condone laser pointing for sport. you can catch him at The Palace 24/7 unless he’s nestled in a baby bjorn while his dad takes him to one of his marathon races.
* his father is making me explain that his birth name is Curtis. However, Turgis is more fitting and I’ve called him this so much that he now responds to it, so let’s let Turg decide.

now that camp is over, i’m able to give my free time back to folly- which is something i’ve missed tremendously. lots of fun things coming up in June, you best believe i’ll loop you in! hint: OINTB Marathon Party. It’s gonna get sooooooooooo weird in my household.

FOLLY: IN WALKS ISAAC.

photo via isaaclikes.com
photo via isaaclikes.com

Around the same time that I began addressing a number of the inquiries in my inbox from you guys, I stumbled upon Isaac Hindin-Miller’s website (via ManRepller, of course).

Before I go there, let me back up. For the longest time, E. Jean was my greatest source of advice on the whole spectrum of everyday life quandaries that seem to pile up incomphrensibly fast. sure, my friends and i dole out advice like freakin’ tic tacs, but nothing resonates quite like E.Jean…

Then, in walks Isaac.
Look. The advice given by your parents almost seamlessly goes in one ear and out the other. From friends, it’s bounced around your brain a couple of times here and there- but you do what you will with it. Sometimes, though, you just know this advice giver is someone to lean in a little closer to. E. Jean is a queen, but Isaac speaks the gospel and you must. listen. Same scenario as most, readers write- he drops bombs. He will never sugar coat a damn sentiment, but always gives your situation the benefit of the doubt. He seems very self aware, is concise with the message, and is very honest with the advice he gives. I really appreciate when someone will tell a girl that she’s compromising her self worth, or can give a homegirl insight in an angle that’s never been examined. He does it, always. As you can imagine, my friends and I text and g-chat each other quotes or links to some of the advice as we go through them. He updates quite regularly and we’re religious about scoping him out on our bloglovin’ rolls every morning. Check him out
fyi: yes- i’m half-doing this so you guys will stop asking me the hard hitting relationship questions and will start referring to this gent.

Here are a few that had some good gems, and are highly entertaining regardless:

Enjoy.