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There’s More To Me That I Have Yet To Find

spell catastrophe with a “k”

This subway car is dirty like some glances I’ve seen.
The dingy orange and light beige plastic seats have seen so many different souls over the years.
They’ve seen people fall in love and people fall out of it in crowded dirty trains underneath the city. They’ve seen it all.
For better but they see us at our worst, but maybe we’re all just cursed.

These streets have felt nervous legs. These streetlights have seen hungry eyes telling more than a mouth ever could.
These steps have seen bad days and great nights, conversations. People moving in, furniture carelessly handled, dents.
I just want to climb on my roof and scream sometimes, just to really let everything out. I just need someone to steady a ladder.
I need to be steadied. These floorboards are killing me, they keep me anchored but make me want to jump ship all at once.
Truth be told, my head is crowded.

Truth be told, these are just some words flowing out of my fingertips, due to a lack of sleep.

This feeling is no longer welcome, I need to push it away.
I’m pushing it away but I was never one for routine.

My eyes glaze over, I don’t know how to interact with strangers, I never picked up on these social cues, but I’m trying.
My headphones go over my cold ears and I try to blend in with the scenery (this has never been my strong suit).

My heavy eyes falter and I wipe the black makeup off like my own brand of warpaint.

My bed is ever so inviting, it just doesn’t feel like it anymore.


6 Awful Halloween Costumes and What They Say About You

Sexy Oscar the Grouch

Sexy Oscar the Grouch

You may have like Sesame Street as a child but obviously were not paying attention. As an observant child, I noticed this character was…well, kind of a jerk. I mean he lived in a trashcan and was grumpy all the time, makes sense right? I’m sure there’s nothing someone finds sexier than a foul smelling rude garbage can dweller.

Other Holiday Mascots on Halloween


I can’t even imagine what honestly goes through the minds of people who dress up as Santa for Halloween. Not only is it inappropriate, but no one likes people like you. You have my personal permission to just sit this holiday out. Everyone sees Santa on Halloween and thinks you’re either insane or just don’t own a calendar. You just don’t GET Halloween, okay?

(See Also: Easter Bunny, leprechauns, pilgrims, and other totally bizarre holiday mascots)

People Who Dress Up As Famous Brands


Congratulations, you not only PAID to look like an idiot but essentially paid a company you already clearly support to advertise for them. I like diet coke with lime as much as the next person, but I would not be caught dead going anywhere near any form of merchandise to advertise them. The shame I feel towards my occasional purchase is bad enough. Keep your Campbells soup can costumes too, no one is going to read into any kind of Warhol reference and you look like an idiot. Also based on your obvious love for said Campbells soup your kidneys might be shutting down.

Women as “cats”


You like cats? I like cats! What a coincidence that every other woman in your office had the same idea, right? False. “Being a cat” is the biggest cop-out costume known to man-kind. You get ears, paint a nose, whiskers, and if you’re feeling saucy a tail. Basically this laissez-faire attitude towards Halloween costumes is part of why I don’t enjoy the holiday as much as an adult. Actual cats would probably be more creative given the chance.

*No offense Pam, you know we love you.

(Note: this of course applies to the most basic of basic cat costumes, which white girls obviously love because it’s oh so easy for them to fashion with their pumpkin spice lattes and Uggs)



(See Also: Women as “Cats”)

I’m sorry to break it to you, but wearing a hat is not a costume. If you actually care enough to make this work then by all means, go for it. We all know Jessica Lange made it work.

Sexy “Nem-OH” 


Okay, Finding Nemo was an adorable and overly quoted movie. If you didn’t like Finding Nemo, I’m sure you’re at the very least being monitored by the government (see also: terrorist). Fish are probably one of the top 10 least sexy creatures ever for both genders.



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ode to serotonin

The feeling of my feet pounding against the filthy sidewalk is hard and familiar. Empty coffee cups, unwanted direct mail[1], and other assorted refuse cover the ground. So many people have walked these very same steps before. Sometimes I walk so fast I feel like my legs are going to crumble beneath me and I’ll melt into this puddle of apprehension.

“Pace yourself, pace yourself” I say

“You’re going to get there, don’t make yourself sick”

My heart beats with anxiety and with the best intentions through my chest and the sound permeates through my blouse . I feel like the woman pushing her child in a stroller [2] can hear it from across the street. I’ve never been one to hide my emotions, it’s never been in my nature. I don’t know what has really changed aside from the seasons, waistline, and coping mechanisms.

When I’m told to relax I just don’t know how to compute such an idea. With a thousand different ideas about a thousand different things running through your head, how does one relax when you’re just in millions of different pieces

This is what I want to say when asked, “so how are you feeling today?”

We are all just slaves to our serotonin receptors, right?


[1] The amount of junk mail I throw out disgusts me. No, I don’t want to buy $100,000 worth of life insurance for the price of a cup of coffee a day, I’m not in that kind of mindset yet. I can’t comprehend things like this just yet, I’m turning 24 in about a week and am in no way ready for a quarter-life crisis.

 [2] Women with those “jogging strollers” make me nervous for their children. Although not quite as nervous as when I see a pregnant women in heels, it’s up there. Who okayed this?


My Lack of (Social) Skill

This is about how I wonder why I still live here at times. This is about how I lack social skills. This is about me ranting about my generation, again.

In first grade I was given the insulting name “Barbie girl”, this stemmed from my apparently age inappropriate fondness for Barbies and Barbie merchandise (yeah, in first grade). To this day I cringe whenever I hear that Aqua song. This morphed into a plethora of other nicknames throughout the years until I stopped caring and started dyeing my hair odd colors. I was a very sensitive individual and an easy target. Making me burst into tears wasn’t a very hard thing to do. I kind of wonder how much I have changed over the years in retrospect, but more on that later. [see also: thicker skin]

I don’t find myself comfortable in crowded places. Things like New Year’s Eve in Times Square honestly give me nightmares. The normal day to day crowded spaces I encounter don’t bother me. I either keep myself glued to a book in the subway or on my phone scrolling through one of many unnecessary playlists I’ve created in the past year. It’s incredibly dangerous and anti-social but I feel I keep my ear buds in so much as some weird defense mechanism.

I get scared and ask myself things like:

“What if I run into someone I know”,

“What if I have to deal with the actual world and hear the beggars on the street as I stride down the sidewalk towards my workplace knowing very well I’m nowhere near mentally equipped enough to deal with human beings yet today”

“What if my earbuds become unplugged and I don’t realize it and it’s like that day the people on the subway car heard me listening to Jawbreaker at an uncomfortable volume?” (Since then I of course double check my connections before I leave)

When I should be asking myself things like:

“What IF I run into someone I know”

“What if strangers actually feel like interacting with me like other normal human beings sometimes do when they’re not constantly sleep deprived creatures like myself”

“What if I get mugged?”

I moved to Philadelphia in late 2011. I wanted to escape Berks County and most of my close friends had already completed the migration normal 20-somethings do from a more boring town to the closest metropolitan area. The difference is that now I feel like for the most part I’m not even included here.

I know I’m an interesting person. I know I over utilize puns and think my jokes are about 1000x funnier than they actually are. Lately I’ve started noticing my tendency to talk with my hands. I caught myself giving someone a “thumbs up” sign at work and just stopped. Thumbs up signs are what the cool guy in 90s cartoons are known for, not me. If I act polite like always I “say sorry too much”. I didn’t know there was some book where these social cues were written down, if found please clue me in on its location.

Sites like exist to help other anxious people like myself in part but even then I’m sure there are cliques. THERE ARE ALWAYS CLIQUES.

Casually saying things like “oh that’s so awkward” and “oh, I’m so awkward” is not cute. Neither is using the word gay in a negative context, so stop doing it.

My social awkwardness isn’t some cliché 20-something problem you see people complain about between tweets about how excited they are for some overpriced makeup line and kale smoothies. I would much rather have a conversation about gentrification and it’s negative effects on Philadelphia over whatever “twerking” is, which I’m still not entirely sure of.

Part of me kind of wonders if our culture of narcissism from things like social media perpetuate this issue. Especially as products of the “Myspace Generation”. There was an even smaller subculture of Myspace kids and we (not legally) trademarked our display names. We took really pretentious portraits with even more terrible captions. Basically the years 2005-2009 were a big mess of eyeliner and angst. The point behind this all is that we amassed these friend lists containing thousands, literally thousands of friends. Despite the 17,000 “friends” you have, you might know less than 50 of them in real life. Myspace kids are still around and are the only reason Hot Topic still continues to stay open at one of many convenient locations for suburbanite children to buy hot pink faux-extensions. The point is we liked the attention. The point is we thought we were cool.  We just moved on from these services and evolved.

We are constantly connected to these digital portraits.  Much like a painter with a canvas, we craft our personas with pixels and clever phrases. There is no Instagram filter for our scars and no comedy writers for things that spew from our mouths. The main thing missing from our generation is authenticity.

“Oh, it would be great if I could just deal with it”

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I’ve Got a Bone to Pick With Narcissism and a Few to Break

What is this really about?

This is about the changing of the seasons and my frustration.

I live in my own head, at least it’s warm in here.

The biggest problem with my generation is the fact we feel the need to constantly capture every single moment no matter how unexceptional it is. I am of course guilty of this, we all are. Everyone with an Instagram that feels the insatiable need to photograph their elegantly disheveled hair with just the hint of X-Pro II is the problem.  See Also: Decline of Myspace

I am the problem.

This is the pot calling the kettle black.

Our generation feels the need to let people we know where we are using geo-caching applications. These applications you use end up using you. Never in human history have we been so transparent. In turn, human interaction has never been so artificial. When was the last time you were out with friends and no one used their phones, even for a brief moment?  I am scared for the human race and the future of communication. We have all this technology at our fingertips and we create things like Google Glass and smartphone-esque applications on our watches, who needs that? Who really NEEDS that?

We need to interact more instead of wasting time rotting away watching crappy sitcoms on Netflix instant. See Also: How you lose brain cells

I guess this is a rant, I haven’t put anything up on this blog for a long time. The other blog has received a lot more love and I’d like to use this as an outlet to rant/talk about whatever I feel like.

about 730 days.

This is about the changing of the seasons. This about how you spent the last two years of your life and how you plan to move onto the next several decades. This is about living in the city and starting to despise the fact. This is about waiting for that one mythical second you envisioned as a child where you become and feel like an actual adult, the one that never arrived.  This is about walking alone and night and feeling that lump in your throat when you’re listening to that song and find yourself blinded by streetlights. This is about my being overdramatic.  This is also about my inability to differentiate between sheer coincidence and this grand scheme we call life. This is about how lucky you are sometimes. This is about accountability. This is about panic attacks and feeling like you’re a prisoner in your house. This is about horrible roommates and thieves. . This is about those friendships you let fall by the wayside. This is about those you wish you hadn’t. This is about how everyone is changing. This is about getting your life in order. This is about parallels. This is about how I’ve found myself here. This is about looking back on an entire year and wondering how much you’ve actually changed. This is about contractions and repetition. This is about taking a second to appreciate everything you have and not letting go of that feeling for one single second.