I’ve been Alicia Keysing hard for this customer at the restaurant where I work. It’s bad y’all. I’ve had customer crushes before. They’re an essential part of service industry work. Some days you need them to deal with a multitude of salty bitch attitudes and just survive your shift. But this is some next level shit. 

He does know my name (finally) but it still feels like oooooooooohhh because I’m over here acting like a complete IDIOT and analyzing every interaction with my friends like I’m 14. It’s not my fault he’s a great tipper, a total sweetheart and looks like he smells like sweat, Old Spice and cedar in a hot way. His eyes are so beautiful it took days before I could even make words in his presence. His eyes are like get the fuck out of my face. If Garrett Hedlund spent 7 years on a fishing boat or living in the wild with Bear Grylls he would be maybe as sexy as this guy is to me. When I see him, Sophie B. Hawkins plays in my soul. Or sometimes this. 

Also this.

Meanwhile this guy is just trying to get an Italian sub and get on with his life without being the star of a 90s adult alternative video. 

I know it’s just crush-lusting. There are things I need to know about another person before it’s real. Like, what was his childhood like? What kind of breakfast foods is he into? Is he voting for Wendy Davis? What are his thoughts on Hobby Lobby? Just things that make up the fabric of a human. 

Yet I’m still pushing up my cleave and actually spending more than 5 minutes on my hair in the morning. And my heart is still doing a swan dive when I find out he came in the day before when I wasn’t there and I’m stuck at work wearing my good bra for nothing. 

Help me, Alicia. 

Do you believe you are attractive and desirable? Sometimes it’s all in the mind. Start your day off with a song that is inspiring or gets you in the right frame of mind. Preferably a song that pumps you up. Have you heard, “I’m A Diva” by Beyonce? It will be difficult to not believe you are awesome after listening to that. 

Once I Googled “How to talk to your crush” (for a friend, obvs) and this was one of the tips in an eHow article. Good advice. 





apparently e.l. james called former child star mara wilson (matilda) a “sad f**k” for critiquing the 50shades books a while ago and now there’s a feud. i love it.

I have a love for her that runs deep.

When I was a kid I was mad when the Matilda movie came out because I didn’t want everyone to know about “my special book” (I was a little turd, I know.) But now more than ever I see the error of my ways.  

(via elephantinthepicture)

I saw ‘Boyhood’ today. Needless to say it was absolutely beautiful and I got more than a little emotional but here are some things in particular that I loved:

  • I counted three Friday Night Lights alumni among the supporting cast, one of whom I met once when she came into the restaurant where I work. (What’s up, Mrs. Howard? How was that BLT  I brought you that one time? #braggin)
  • Patricia Arquette. Just Patricia Arquette and everything about her in this movie and always.
  • All the nods to Texas and Texas culture and the landscape. Ethan Hawke playing a Guy Clark song in a tent just resonates.
  • How charismatic and sexy Ethan Hawke can be on screen. Maybe I have finally forgiven him for how he treated Winona Ryder in Reality Bites.
  • The soundtrack and the idea of music as a time capsule. The complete non-Zach Braffiness of putting a song featuring Leighton Meester on the OST. The fact that ‘Yellow’ will always be a great song and we should all freely admit this. 


Along a one hour stretch of TX State Highway 14 lies a sting of unassuming small central Texas towns that just happened to have birthed artists who helped shape the course of American music. 

Bob Wills was born in Kosse; Lefty Frizzell in Corsicana. Singer songwriter Cindy Walker was born in Mart and wrote country standards recorded by Ray Charles, Jim Reeves and Gene Autry on a typewriter inside her quiet Mexia home. Blues and slide guitar virtuoso Blind Willie Johnson, whose “Dark is the Night, Cold is the Ground” was included on the golden gramophone record sent into space on the Voyager explorers for future intelligent life—human or otherwise—to hear, grew up in Marlin. 

In Wortham, TX, a town of 1,073 located less than an hour northeast of Waco, lies a man who traversed the country in the early 1900s and spent his teen years performing in the Deep Ellum area of Dallas with frequent musical collaborator, the legendary Huddie “Lead Belly” Ledbetter. Born blind to sharecropper parents, Blind Lemon Jefferson  has been called the Father of Texas Blues and was one of the first country blues singer/guitarists to have a national audience. His music has influenced and inspired Mance Lipscomb, T-Bone Walker, Bessie Smith, Louis Armstrong, Lightnin’ Hopkins and Chet Atkins, among so many others.

For years the average traveler passing through Wortham would have never known about the man who was laid to rest in the little cemetery by the road. Jefferson’s plot was unmarked for nearly 40 years until a historical marker was placed at his estimated place of burial in the African American cemetery in Wortham. In 1997, the same year Wortham held its first blues festival in honor of Jefferson, the iconic bluesman was finally given a head stone inscribed with a request from one of his most famous songs: “Lord, it’s one kind favor I’ll ask of you, see that my grave is kept clean.” The cemetery’s name was changed to the Blind Lemon Jefferson Memorial Cemetery the same year. 

Despite the name change, the Blind Lemon Jefferson Memorial Cemetery stands in stark contrast to the perfectly manicured, green grass laden grave sites just across the fence, where county tax dollars go to keep up the grounds. 

To enter the cemetery you have to cross through a gateway and over what looks like a cattle guard. I chose to park next to the road and walk to the grave. Seeing the lack of preservation and overgrown grass and weeds surrounding the faded graves was a sobering experience and still gives me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s a story that’s not uncommon among black cemeteries across the south, where cemeteries with no listed land managers are neglected by the county. And it’s shameful. 

But it’s clear that Blind Lemon Jefferson’s grave, while overgrown, hasn’t been forgotten. There’s a foot trail leading to the headstone located back by a fence separating the cemetery from a pasture where cattle roam. A tin cup holding guitar picks, a worn baseball, spare change and a tattered and water-stained dollar bill, sits beside the historical marker for visitors to leave tokens of respect for the man who reportedly kept a tin cup wired to the neck of his guitar for appreciative listeners to drop coins. I placed a dollar in the tin, securing it underneath the baseball another visitor had left. I turned to go back to my car and took note of a patch of wildflowers growing next to the grave site. Rest in peace, Lemon Jefferson, and may your grave be kept clean. 


I wrote about visiting the grave of Blind Lemon Jefferson, a great blues man with a badass epitaph, buried in a largely neglected cemetery in central Texas.