Welcome to the twenty-fifth installment of Open Book. If it’s your first time here, click here for a little background.
I feel I have the authority to say this because, as of this summer, I have officially lived in five different apartments over the past five years. I’ve reassembled my IKEA bed so many times I don’t even need the cryptic directions anymore.
But it’s not just the packing and box-lugging that make moving terrible. I think what sucks more than anything is the fear. Fear that that you’ve chosen the wrong place, the wrong price, the wrong roommates. Fear that the neighbors will be the kind from hell. Fear that you’re somehow hurtling in the wrong direction but tough shit ’cause now you’re legally obligated to stay out the one-year lease. Fear, most broadly, of all the nebulous unknowns.
Welcome to the twenty-fourth installment of Open Book. If it’s your first time here, click here for a little background.
This entry in my blog will address menstruation, blood, pads, tampons, cramps, and related uterine topics. If the thought of broaching such material makes you uncomfortable, kindly get over yourself (#SorryNotSorry; #EndPeriodStigma) and read on.
Welcome to the twenty-third installment of Open Book. If it’s your first time here, click here for a little background.
Dearest readers, I want to start by asking you a question: What words would you use to describe yourself?
Maybe you’d poke fun at a few of your less-than-stellar qualities and call yourself geeky or perpetually late or such a hot mess right now lol. But you probably wouldn’t be outright mean to yourself. Right?
Welcome to the twenty-second installment of Open Book. If it’s your first time here, click here for a little background.
Tomorrow I’ll be twenty-five years old. I’m sure it sounds silly to people older than me, but twenty-five feels big. It feels like an age where things start to matter.
I guess that’s why people talk about having a quarter-life crisis, though I think the term itself is a bit of a misnomer. If twenty-five is considered a quarter of my life, that means that I’m apparently living to 100. This feat of longevity would require some pretty immediate action on my part: Kicking my yogurt-covered pretzel habit, actually sleeping more than five hours a night, perhaps setting foot in a gym once or twice before mid-life.
Welcome to the twenty-first installment of Open Book. If it’s your first visit, click here for a little background.
Today, we’re going to talk about the bus—specifically about the Megabus, or any of the other budget bus lines that shuttle people between cities all across the country. If you’ve never ridden one of these buses, consider yourself lucky. It probably means that you make a lot of money, and despite the knee-buckling surge of envy I’m currently experiencing, I’m happy for you. Really. But if you have found yourself boarding one of these monstrosities, then welcome, friends. Prepare to commiserate.