Walking out of the San Diego airport into the Southern California sunshine was a powerful aphrodisiac, but nothing I can’t resist—my heart belongs in Manhattan, and I’m not a cheater. But the weather wasn’t the only temptation that presented itself over the weekend.
What has a year of those circumstances, living in and with and as a part of NYC, done to me? This may sound like a strange declaration coming from someone who lives in the city that never sleeps, but New York has mellowed me out.
Tuesday I turned 23. Twenty three might not seem like a significant age to most. Maybe it shouldn’t feel like a significant age to me. But it does. Both for the number and for the forces behind it.
Why haven’t I been writing lately? Is it a lack of inspiration? It shouldn’t be. I live in the city that never sleeps. The cup of inspiration should overfloweth. Is it a staid… Continue reading
My college roommates and I thought we were pretty clever with the sheet sign that we came up with to hang from our porch for graduation weekend. Sheet signs at the University of… Continue reading
New York City. The Big Apple. The City that Never Sleeps. I honestly don’t think I have anything to say about the place that has not already been said. But I have things… Continue reading
The lovely ladies at The Gloss proposed a challenge: submit a story about something you’ve done that moved you towards being a grown-up. AKA, earned you your Big Girl Badge. Unfortunately I didn’t… Continue reading