A millennial’s unsolicited career advice.

I feel like I give unsolicited advice all the time. Like, something will happen to me and I'm like YO THIS WORKED FOR ME ONE TIME THIS SHOULD BE ADDED TO THE CONSTITUTION OR SOMETHING. Most of the time I don't really know what I'm talking about but I just go with it because I'm … Continue reading A millennial’s unsolicited career advice.

home

At times I wonder why I left. I ask myself if "exploring" could mean a Southie apartment with friends or "taking a chance" has to mean uprooting the familiar and planting yourself in the unknown. I don't really know the answers to these questions and I don't know if I ever will. I took a … Continue reading home

Are you writing about me?

There she was, sitting in La Colombe. Typing away on her marble-skinned MacBook wearing thick, square glasses. Ray Bans, perhaps. Thick, dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail with a wool gray scarf draped around her neck sipping on what seems to be a cappuccino. Or maybe a latte. Cafe au lait? I'm not sure. Every few seconds she looks up from her … Continue reading Are you writing about me?

My Tuesdays are different than your Tuesdays

I roll out of bed at around 4:30am even after a 1:00am clock out at work a short 3.5 hours prior. My phone lies on my nightstand lit up with Nordstrom Rack emails, Tinder messages, and an option to hit "Sleep." Next step is usually a trip to the bathroom to washthe make up residue from my eyes … Continue reading My Tuesdays are different than your Tuesdays

A story with an expiration date

  "You have to come home at some point, you know. And don't fall in love either. I'll miss you too much if you stay." I laughed at my mother's words as she hid the tears behind her sunglasses. I took it as a joke, but I knew she was at least half serious. With … Continue reading A story with an expiration date

A new normal that isn’t normal yet.

“What the f*ck is wrong with me?” I cried as I laid in bed in excruciating pain at 4 in the morning. I wanted to call someone, anyone. The tears rolled down my face as my legs stiffened. This was night number five. I attempted to stand up to make the leg cramps subside, stumbling … Continue reading A new normal that isn’t normal yet.

When you like the “wrong guy.”

I’m supposed to like a certain type of guy. I have constructed this ideal man in my mind who shapes my taste in guys. He differentiates the right guys from the totally wrong ones. Ideally, he would be the perfect mix of smart, adventurous, confident, cute, friendly, blah blah blah. Let’s call this "ideal man" … Continue reading When you like the “wrong guy.”

Two single people on the subway

I sat on the Red Line, my legs crouched up on the seat, sunglasses resting on top of my head. My back rested on the metal next to the end-chair and the germ infested hand bar. While seemingly uncomfortable, I was quite cozy with a book in hand. The loud noise of the train made … Continue reading Two single people on the subway

Why I’m going to tell you I’m from Boston, even if I don’t live there.

13.4 miles, a 16 minute drive on a Sunday morning (45+ minutes any other day). 11 stops on the Red Line to Park St., a $4.20 roundtrip CharlieCard fare. I don't know the ins and outs of a Southie neighborhood and I won't tell you to "pahk the cah in Hahvahd Yahd," simply because I … Continue reading Why I’m going to tell you I’m from Boston, even if I don’t live there.