Miscellaneous

ECHO CHAMBERS

Until very recently, if you had used the term “echo chamber” I would have thought you were talking about some vast, dark space that nightmares are made of, or that constant, repetitive voice in my head that nightmares are also made of. But after the recent political events, it became very clear to me that I was living in an actual echo chamber. One that is a truly vast and dark space filled with me and all my liberal friends panicking at the same pitch. A tiny light has been lit in the middle now, so I can almost see where I am. But, that doesn’t change the fact that I have not found a way out. In all gospel truth, I may be digging myself deeper into the hole. The more I try to justify the voices it seems the further away I am from the light. And if I try to drown out the voices, I go nowh...

WE ARE ONE AMERICA

WE ARE ONE AMERICA No matter our background, our color, our gender or political views we are all Americans. We need to start acting as one. ALL THE HATE. All this protesting and what really is being done? No matter if one likes it or not, the President of the United States of America is Donald J. Trump. There is not a thing anyone can do to change that at this point. But what can be done – is America can come together as one. We are taught from a young age that, although we may not like our teacher, we still need to respect those in authority. That same mentality has carried into many aspects of American’s lives. We may not like our boss, but does that mean we don’t respect him/her? No, if we treated them with disrespect and hatred, we would lose our jobs. So why are we, as Americans...

SOCIAL MEDIA: THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SELF EXPRESSION AND SELF OBSESSION

How many times a day do you check your social media? I know I personally check it more than I would like to admit. Just the other day I gave myself a little pep talk. I told myself I needed to be as productive as possible. Ten minutes later I was on the couch scrolling through Instagram. Okay, yes, there are worse habits to have, but imagine if you calculated all the hours spent aimlessly scrolling on social media. I would rather not know how many hours I spend on each platform. As much as I pretend to hate it, I love social media. Mostly because I feel like it keeps me connected to the world. If I don’t check Twitter — I won’t know Trump’s most recent tweet. And then how am I supposed to chime in when people complain about it? Basically, it’s just blatant FOM...

WHAT THE KROC

X: “If you have time to lean, you have time to clean” The Loud House is a Nickelodeon animated television series. One of the hallmarks of the series is it’s the first ever portrayal of a same-sex couple in a Nick show. Harold and Howard McBride have received praise for representing a same-sex couple in a casual way. There is no bold print screaming: THEY ARE GAY!! There are no asterisks denoting *depiction of same-sex couple. Breaking with tradition in this way is considered pretty monumental. The show follows primarily Lincoln Loud, the middle child of the eleven child Loud family. In my first viewing of The Loud House, Lincoln receives his very first job. It’s a job which requires janitorial work-sweeping, wiping, washing etc. The manager of the establishment catches the novice wor...

LIFE BECOMES THE GRIST

One blank page remains in my notebook. Three other notebooks are nestled into my bookshelf, spines blank but creased from being opened over and over. They are nothing fancy, but they contain the past five years of my life. I wasn’t always a fan of journaling. I kept a few diaries as a kid, writing with purple gel pen about my day in school. I enjoyed it, and continued through my teenage years. But when I was sixteen, my family moved, and as I packed up my room I flipped through the notebook that had served as my thus-far teenage journal—and I threw it away. I wanted to forget about my awkward years. Anyway, what was the point of writing down all this stuff? Wasn’t that a waste of time, especially when I could be writing something better, like stories or blog posts, things other people coul...

A STORY ABOUT STORIES

You know when you were a kid and everything made perfect sense? You would grow up and be a waitress/ballerina and get married and have kids and always love Jesus and have a pretty house, four dogs and a library full of books. (Like the one in Beauty & the Beast.) You would be beautiful like your mom and smart just like your big brother and your dad would always be the funniest person you knew. Your first puppy would live forever, as would your grandparents; and best friends would still live next door. (It all sounds a bit complicated, but believe me, total cake to a six year old) At some point in time, little holes start to pierce through the lining. At first it’s not a big deal. I mean, how many people are actually cut out to be a ballerina? But then bigger tears start to appear...

SKIPPING MY COLLEGE GOLDEN YEARS

Somehow, I didn’t receive the message that binge drinking is the only way to become an adult.  I didn’t think my preference for reading a book cozy in bed over blacking out made me boring, but I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something. Somehow, my glory days are wasted by not having wild party stories to tell, but instead being able to relate back my “fun and exciting night” of writing, doing homework, or editing my photography. I know I’m not the only one that prefers to stay in, but some nights that’s what it feels like when no one will answer my texts or spend a night in with me.  I don’t even bother asking someone to spend a night exploring Boston with me because I know what the answer will always be: a no followed by a lame excuse, and then pictures from a party they atte...

FEMINISM IS NOT FOR SALE

“Ooo ooo me! My turn! How about something that has nothing to do with the election but super relevant to our current buzzword culture: feminism. I’m scared of the word because I feel like we’ve lost touch with the meaning. It is your right as a human being to shake your scantily clad booty on stage or whatever (yes what up Bey!). But please, as a courtesy to women and girls everywhere, please don’t do it in the name of feminism. It sends a very confusing message. Feminism is not for sale. End scene.” After the election, people were fired up. My (everyone’s) social media was blasted with emotional commentary in all directions. For the first time, I was inspired to post something—something that had been weighing on my mind for a long time, but I could not quite articulate. ...

ALL THE SINGLE LADIES. THE FEMINISTS. THE “NOT KID PEOPLE”.

Please be mindful… Just because a lady’s life veers from what many would categorize as typical or traditional, it doesn’t mean that A., it is wrong, and B., that is was even something she had a choice in. When a female isn’t the sort to offer to babysit children, or cuddle babies, or volunteer in the children’s hallway at church- it doesn’t mean she hates or dislikes kids. She probably adores her niece/nephew. Her friend’s children are adorable. That just isn’t where her life is… and honestly, it may never be. Please, that doesn’t mean its fodder for offhanded jokes or remarks. Sometimes you read articles or hear people going on about how selfish single people are. Disposable incomes and piles of time, both completely untrue in many cases; I work full-time, always have, I work HARD, and st...

ADULTING FOR BEGINNERS

I recently visited a local elementary school as part of a speaking engagement. In my introduction, they mentioned that I was 22 years old and a recent college graduate…cue audible gasps in the crowd. While this gave me a chuckle at first, such a reaction soon settled uncomfortably into my very being. Sure, when I was in second or third grade I thought all 22 year olds were put together, professional, and were probably already fighting the effects of aging. Without being able to put in into words, I assumed those of this ripe age were mature, sure of themselves, and just plain loving life. And then…there’s my current reality. As a working woman battling confusion and angst, I am the living definition of a hot mess — unsure of my future and working hard to adjust to the lif...

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