For Everything There Is A Season

I have not listened to "Mr. Brightside" by the Killers since graduating college. 

My 2016 Boston College grads feel me on this. That song might be on every single playlist I made those four years. It was the party song. It's a great workout track. We'd bump it on car rides—out of state, to the local grocery store, it didn't matter. On my 22nd birthday, my best friends threw me a party, and I stood on a table while I and a roomful of humans shouted "I NEVERRRRRR" at top volume. I don't remember a time when I didn't know all the words (honestly, does anyone not know all the words?).

This Is Where You Belong

After being laid off from my job two months ago, I packed my desk and drove to the beach. It was a perfect day for shorts and a sweater, walking along the bike paths and lifting my face toward the sun every few minutes. I wanted my skin to burn.

The Magic of No

Despite the fact that I am oddly aware of all of this, I love making plans. The idea of a full social calendar has always been appealing. I'm the quintessential "extroverted-introvert" who lives for the opportunity to be a party girl, yet craves serious alone time. By Monday, I have plans for a mid -week dinner and by then, Friday night plans are brewing. Meanwhile, all the while, I’m thinking, “Shit, I just want to do nothing in peace, yet have an ongoing conversation via text with my best friend.” All of this mental anguish is because I said “yes.”

On Human Connection in the Age of Technology

Now, at nearly 24 years of age, I go to bed every night with the latest version iPhone in front of my face and happily let it greet me every morning. This tiny computer is my companion; I couldn’t imagine life without it. It serves as an escape when I need it to, and a distraction when I don’t. It has the power to remove me from reality and cut down drastically on actual physical connection. I, more often than not, chose to be in that simulated world at my fingertips instead of in the present moment.

On Becoming A Food Writer

There was a time about a two years ago when I found myself seated at a table surrounded by wine glasses filled with varying types of expensive wines, waiters fluttering to and from my table bringing course after course of exquisite food. And my primary emotion? Not delight, but disbelief. I felt like a fraud.

The Mess I Like to Call Happiness

My run was a quick relief from the busy day I had been having that Sunday. I had a rough draft due for an editor. I had to work on data for my internship. And the next day I was starting my new full-time job. I was exhausted. So I went inside and took a selfie to describe this mess of my life on Instagram. The mess I like to call happiness.

5 Life Lessons Theatre Taught Me

I was able to join the cast of two local theatre productions now as a post-grad. I eagerly slipped into my roles and savored my experience on the other side of the audience. Instead of hiding behind my mom as the characters signed autographs, I became the characters that the children lined up to meet. This magical transformation reminds me of how fortunate I am to have theatre at every stage in my life.

Along the way, theatre has taught me these 5 important life lessons.

The Year of the Girl (and Quinoa)

I didn’t make a New Year’s resolution for 2017. I was over setting myself up for failure, so in the spirit of self-love, I decided to challenge myself in more productive ways. I set short term goals, like not getting too drunk to remember the ball drop (failed) and not crying at midnight (allegedly failed). 

I did, however, develop a theme and set of rules for the new year. My mantra?  “2017 is the year of the GIRL.”

When Writing Feels Like Group Therapy

Isn’t this a picture of the creative process? Isn’t this a picture of the way I am always tempted to write? Sitting down at my desk often feels a lot like sitting down in group therapy. I am being asked to share my heart, to tell my truth, so I begin to. I start putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) but then I make the mistake of looking around.

When Your Parents Become Human

Like many people my age, I have divorced parents.

They split up when I was in the sixth grade, and to be completely honest, when I was put on the spot the other day, I couldn’t really recall much of their relationship before that. The whole process was treacherous and heartbreaking and something I had chosen to forget.

It's Okay That People Leave

We listed a few names, talked about the few who we never spoke to anymore. The ones who were falling off the list from distance, from change. The rare loved ones whom we rarely get the chance to talk to, but when we see each other all is exactly the same.

“It’s weird how some people just leave, and you hardly even notice it.”