interpreter of melodies

Over the past several months, I've caught myself—multiple times—on the verge of tweeting song lyrics like I'm a seventeen-year-old writing on MySpace. I think it's probably because the last time I had my heart broken like I did a year or so ago, I was seventeen, and it was easier to wear your heart on… Continue reading interpreter of melodies

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there and back again

When I think of anorexia, I think of Karen Carpenter. Like every normal teenage girl who came of age in the 1970’s, I idolize Karen Carpenter (I, unfortunately, grew up in the 2000s, which makes the “normal” qualifier irrelevant). But only insofar as I would give my right arm to feather my hair and belt… Continue reading there and back again

the butterflies are still there

Ten years ago, I had a flawless first date. I have no qualms about bragging about this because none of my other firsts have been so storybook-perfect. My first kiss startled me so much that instead of kissing back, I hiccupped. My first relationship ended in a hotel room and not even in an exciting… Continue reading the butterflies are still there

gunner

I signed up for a French class a couple weeks ago. It’s the first time I’ve set foot in a classroom since I graduated from college some three and a half (!) years ago. It’s entirely for fun—not for work, not even for a grade—and yet every time I enter the classroom, I feel myself… Continue reading gunner

“we”

I enjoy not having a tapeworm. (Granted, I would spend a lot less of my life grunting on a spin bike if I had a tapeworm, but I'm told there are some unpleasant side effects that aren't worth the calorie burn.) I also enjoy not being royalty, in no small part because I really like… Continue reading “we”

thoughts on living alone

The knock came last night around eight. I froze in panic, hoping that my inertia would somehow trick the visitor into believing I wasn't home in spite of the lights and the television and the fact that until the knock, I had been belting out Brandi Carlile. I waited motionless in my desk chair until… Continue reading thoughts on living alone

slacks do not a grownup make

I have been feeling very adult lately, what with all the slacks I’ve been wearing to interviews and rent checks I’ve been writing and glasses of craft beer I’ve been drinking in respectable establishments. I just wanted to take a moment to make sure that nobody thinks that I actually turned into a big girl… Continue reading slacks do not a grownup make