“beyond just writing about falling in love and out of love and wanting to do certain things and going out and partying and all the things that i grew up writing about, i want to write about deeper things.”

.joan jett
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all of a sudden

like the paper thin skin of her hands, my grandmother’s eyes are almost transparent. i watch as they frantically dart around the room, desperate to focus and meet my gaze. they are pleading; begging me to understand a lifetime of tiny memories, of regrets, of little vignettes frozen in time.

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i’m forever blowing bubbles

my lovely girlfriends tricked me into meeting them at a vegan restaurant for dinner last week. as a super carnivore who eats cheeseburgers “as rare as you are legally allowed to serve them,” i was less than impressed.

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you’re a firework

Lately I find myself repeating the same advice to anyone in their early twenties: Start traditions with your friends. Traditions you adhere to year after year, no matter what.

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“blessed are the cracked, for they shall let in the light.”

.groucho marx
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