Sunday, February 28, 2016

insane insecurities.

I had a really excellent fifth birthday party, if my memory serves me correctly. It was at Thee Upper Crust Pizza (now closed) next to my parents' regular grocery store and bank, and there was a magician who made tiny bunny rabbits made of red foam appear in my hands with a wave of a wand.

I couldn't tell you much about the guest list (kindergarten classmates, of course) or the gifts or even the cake (was that the year I had a Snow White themed cake? I don't remember), but I do remember loving the feeling of that day. I got to eat pizza and cake with my friends and a magician. What could top that? 

The years following, I wish I could say birthdays were just as fun. While I enjoyed the family traditions of dinner and cake at my grandparents', and the way my mom would let me sleep in 10 more minutes in the morning before school, I don't have many fond party memories the way pizza and foam bunnies made me feel. For my 12th birthday, I had planned a party at my house, and my wonderful mother and I spent the morning putting up decorations (it was supposed to be music-themed, so we had this paper music notes on the walls and the cups and plates were purple with music notes and treble clefs on them) and getting food ready. I was excited about it because at this point in my life, my hair loss had sped up and I went from losing small chunks sporadically to losing fistfuls by the day. But this party would make me forget that I was losing my identity and losing my confidence, and it would make me feel like I still had friends even though people had stopped hanging out with me at recess and I was spending more time in the library reading than playing outside. 

So the Saturday of the party comes, but the only people who showed up were my sister's friends because my mom used to let her invite one or two friends to keep her company. When I called my "best friend" to ask where she was, she said she forgot. Another friend (who had RSVPed, by the way) said she had just invited friends over to her house and couldn't come.

After that, I really hated my birthday.

Saturday, February 13, 2016

don't forget to fall in love.


Don't forget to fall in love with your dreams.

Hell, don't forget to have dreams in the first place.

I think it's scary to have dreams, or to speak them out loud. Saying your wishes and desires out loud means that someone in the world can hear it and hold you accountable in the future -- and what if you fail? Can you still love a dream that seems far out of reach?

"Dreams never die," someone once told me. "It's people who give up on them."

What would it look like if we woke up each morning in love with the possibilities ahead of us?

If I were honest with myself, there are dreams I still have -- dreams for myself and my future, but also dreams for others, for the world -- that I don't necessarily have full faith and confidence in them becoming realities. But that doesn't mean they're worth working toward in some capacity, even in the smallest of ways.

Thursday, February 11, 2016

go your own way.

It’s surprising to me how few Gilmore Girls references I’ve made on this blog in the 6-7 years I’ve been writing here, considering how deep into the world of Gilmore I am — from owning every season on DVD (even season 7) to binge-watching the series multiple times (it’s my comfort show).

Basically, if you ever want to have a way-too-long conversation about the show, I'm your girl.

Of course, inevitably, during the many times I’ve met other fans, the question of, “Which ‘team’ are you on?” always comes up: Team Dean? Jess? Logan?


While I've historically been Team Jess (and I stand by that during my episode re-watches), by the end of the series -- and looking ahead to the revival -- I'm truthfully Team None of Them. 

Sunday, February 7, 2016

coffee to-go: get ready, get set.


Another blog goal for the year: document travels. Thanks to my mom and sister, I have a new travel bag that's spacious enough to hold everything I need, but not too cumbersome to serve as my carry-on.

The first trip in this busy year is to Raleigh, North Carolina, where I'll be speaking at Duke University on a "Woman in Media" panel on Tuesday, followed by a weekend in DC for Laura's bachelorette party.

Follow me on Snapchat for more this week (and throughout the year)!

Friday, February 5, 2016

watch this: 'switched at birth.'

Everyone -- I have a lot of feelings about this.

I was feeling sick a couple weekends ago, so I stayed in and decided to put my Roku to work. Monica had been recommending Switched at Birth for awhile now, and since it popped up at the top of my Netflix recommendations, I decided to give it a try.


If you know me, you already know I'm generally down for an ABC Family (now, Freeform) show. After all, the network has its surprising gems that you might not expect (Bunheads, anyone?).

The show reminds me a lot of Parenthood, which is another drama that was equally as captivating. What both shows also have, that intrigues me, are characters you both root for and hate throughout the series. There are some characters and storylines that are ripe for criticism, and often times I found myself wanting to throw something at the television when a character was being pretentious or judgmental or naive. If you were to read through my text updates to Monica while I was watching Switched at Birth, you'll see the constant flip-flopping I feel over individuals and relationships and storylines.


But isn't that what makes a good show? Investment in the characters? At least, for me it does. (And trust me: I have a lot of opinions right now about every character, including the characters that I'm still sitting here wondering, "Where the hell did they go?!" -- and if you watch the show and care to rant with me, you know where to find me.)

My original blog post on this was just me gushing on and on about why the show is so good, but I'll share a few non-spoilery takeaways instead to get my thoughts organized (and to try and convince you to watch, if you aren't already):