Quizzy Adult-in-Training

        Social Media is a huge part of everyday life. Frankly if it isn’t you’ll probably never read this blog anyways so that argument is irrelevant. Every day I see memes and tweets that comment on the female form. On our bodies, our faces, our fashion sense. It is the media and those who fuel it that tell us what is “socially acceptable.” What these sources fail to acknowledge or, take into account are the actual facts.             Obviously I can only state facts in reference to my own feelings; so if you feel differently I urge you to continue on the path of least resistance. If you’re in a trolling mood however please do continue to waste your life arguing on social media. I’m sure you’ve accomplished so much in your short or, long existence on this earth.             I saw this tweet the other day while I was watching a “NikkiTutorials,” Youtube v...

           I initially came to this coffee shop intending to read for my leadership class but, after a half an hour of consistent procrastination I’ve decided it’s not going to happen today. I really haven’t blogged in awhile now that I think about it. It’s been like a month. I basically packed all my stuff went home for half a second, came to Tallahassee for a week and then left to go home to escape a hurricane that ended up hitting the place I evacuated to. It’s fine, I’ve honestly come to terms with the way my life works at this point. I’m trying to think of a topic to write about and I’m truly at a loss. Actually wait I’ve thought of something.             This summer I sort of came to some conclusions about my life. I spent all this time last year getting over someone. A person who really affected me and not in a good kind of way. It was a situation that made me question myself for the first tim...

          There’s this house, it’s modest, one story, with a light green door. Small panes cut a semi-circle shaped window in the top of the wood. Opening the door you see a home. Pictures of a little girl are plastered across the walls, her in a ballerina costume, father-daughter photos, senior portraits, they all tell a story of the young woman who used to live there. Crossing the tiled floor you come to the dining room, a dark brown table sits there taking up a majority of the room. This is a table where so many things happened; arts and craft projects, IB essays were written here, tattoos were drawn up on this table, forever inked into skin the same way the memories were inked into our heads. Vibrant at first glance but slowly fading into blurred lines a barely discernible image             Sometimes we as people hold on to objects because we have nothing left to remember a person by. Th...

          I took this class last semester, it was supposed to be your typical public speaking class. A way to teach students how to communicate in the business world but, it ended up being an experience slightly more eye-opening than previously thought. A month in to class he had this assignment for us, “write something you’re dealing with right now.” I think the week before Mara and I had argued about cleaning and I couldn’t really come up with anything else so I scribbled “my roommate is being an asshole,” really quickly in scrunched up cursive and folded my paper. Seconds later my professor made eye contact and then said, “I want what you’re writing to be real, don’t bullshit this answer.” My initial reaction was, “fuck that shit,” I don’t talk about my problems to a classroom full of people, hell I don’t even like to talk about stuff like that to my friends. I balled up my paper and stared at a blank page in my notebook. The lines started to blur I was thin...