Archives
My mother hated tattoos, so naturally I got one for her
Posted on July 2, 2014 11 Comments
“Months are different in college, especially freshman year. Too much happens. Every freshman month equals six regular months—they’re like dog months.” – Rainbow Rowell A lot happens your freshman year of college. It’s one of those years you learn who you are, what you’re made of and, in most cases, the art of laundry. For me, […]
10 things people have Googled to get to this blog
Posted on June 30, 2014 1 Comment
The internet is a scary thing. Not only is every Instagram selfie I’ve ever shamelessly posted plastered on the Google Image search attached to my name but, thanks to WordPress, I have access to an archive of search terms that — at one time or another — have led Internet users to my site. Here […]
There are more important things in life than what your ex is doing on Facebook
Posted on June 11, 2014 5 Comments
There are more important things in life than what your ex is doing on Facebook. There are more important things in life than what that girl wore to EDC, or that she went at all. There are more important things in life than a brand new Michael Kors watch. There are more important things in life […]
My first year out of college
Posted on May 21, 2014 Leave a Comment
Originally published by Writtalin. Three hundred and sixty-five days ago, I walked across the stage at Radio City, diploma in hand, gauze on my post-Senior Formal feet and mom in the audience. I said goodbye to sharing secrets, stories, and clothes with my closest girlfriends, Tuesday night drink specials, and the corner-deli guy. I said goodbye […]
The first Mother’s Day without you
Posted on May 7, 2014 16 Comments
This morning, I heard your laugh. Six and a half months later and the Alex and Ani website still has the matching Leukemia bracelets I was going to buy us in my shopping cart. I can’t bring myself to take them out. I won’t get to see you Sunday, not even your gravesite. Staten Island […]
What it’s like to go viral
Posted on April 23, 2014 17 Comments
“Lol speak for yourself bitch. Stay classy!” – Megan McCunt, lolnowhodoyouthink@lolno.com Going viral is a lot like skydiving. I’ve always wanted to do it, but was never quite sure I had the balls. One day, the Internet pushed me out of that shaky, hypothetical airplane (without warning or a parachute) and the free-fall was equally terrifying, incredible, exhilarating, and awful. Two weeks […]
Treat yourself: An open letter to the Class of 2014
Posted on April 8, 2014 118 Comments
To the Class of 2014, This is it. One month ’till May and, odds are, you’re feeling numb and nauseous. The walls are closing in, all rugs have been pulled out and you’re compulsively spell-checking your resumé (while simultaneously snapchatting, putting off that ten-page paper and planning your next pregame). In six or so weeks you’ll be […]
I’m a writer with nothing to write about
Posted on April 1, 2014 1 Comment
Except dancing on an Alphabet City bar stage to Salt n Pepa, posing outside of Irish Exit because “we’re 21 now…wait, we’re 23,” losing the head of a screwdriver to the cork on the inside of a wine bottle, and that guy from OKCupid who said, “If you were a triangle, you’d be acute one.” Okay, okay. I have […]
Sometimes I forget she died
Posted on January 21, 2014 8 Comments
Sometimes I forget she died and it’s not until I stop everything I’m doing that I remember she did. It’s not until I see the president speak, work sixteen hours straight or consider ordering French Onion Soup. It’s not until I find that emory board she was always looking for or the wedding pictures I never […]
Dear Notebook: a seventh-grader’s guide to abortion, Good Charlotte and the real world
Posted on January 20, 2014 3 Comments
Moving is hard. I knew that. I’ve seen Casper. I saw it coming. What I didn’t see coming (besides the blizzard that fucked my U-Haul)? It being ten times harder (times the square root) when you’ve got your own shit, your parents’ shit and their parents’ shit. Three months, 50-something garbage bags, 25 reinforced boxes […]
Meaghan McGoldrick 