I’ve been thinking a lot about social media lately. I know, you’re probably thinking, “Well, that’s good because it’s your job.” But social digs much deeper for me than just my job.


The Girls

I went to a very large high school in Colorado. There were about 4,000 students total and just shy of 1,000 in my graduating class. Needless to say, I certainly didn’t know everyone. Post high school, I chose to go to the University of Colorado in Boulder.


It’s a serendipitous story, really.

The boyfriend and I have decided to move in together.


Last weekend, the Boyfriend and I went exploring. For the past five months or so, we’ve been on opposite schedules and haven’t been able to spend a whole lot of quality time together. The remedy? Taking a quick road trip to Hog Island Oyster Farm in Marshall, CA.


Remember, in high school, when you met that one girl (or guy) with whom you just clicked? You both liked the same music, the same burrito bowl at Chipotle, the same smoothie at Jamba Juice, and therefore you were soulmates — attached at the hip. You wove together friendship bracelets and swear you’d never ever take yours off.


Volume I.

One year ago today, an extremely nervous man knocked on my door. He had earphones in and a notebook with the cover turned inside out so the pages were visible.


When I was younger, my dad would take my brother and me camping. We’d stay in tents, bring freeze-dried food (you know, like the food astronauts would eat), build a campfires, cook s’mores, and spend quality time together. Once we discovered that camping wasn’t my brother’s thing, it became a father/daughter tradition.


Two years ago today, my dad and I unloaded the last box from our rented Penske truck after driving 21 hours from Boulder to San Francisco. I was nervous, excited and scared. But mostly excited.


I have an entire category dedicated to creating your own happiness. I’ve written post after post after post about how you are in control of making yourself happy. You have the power to do this for yourself.


Hi. I’m sick. And not the “cough cough” “achoo achoo” “oh, poor baby” sick. No, I’m the crawl-into-bed want-my-mommy-to-bring-me-chicken-noodle-soup-and-rub-my-back kind of sick. This kind of sickness doesn’t hit me frequently, but when it does, it tries to knock me flat on the floor.


Life, in and of itself, is cyclical. We’re born, we live, we die, and some believe that sequence repeats itself over again. But throughout life, we’re faced with even more cycles, patterns, repetitions. Some of these are great — another fiscal year, a work week that always ends in a weekend. However, some patterns in life, should be broken.

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I have worked very hard to achieve my independence. As a woman, I am proud to say I am comfortable with being left in my own company. I am all right staying home on a Friday night, watching bad TV, by myself. I have never been more comfortably spontaneous in my life. Living free, with no restrictions or social obligations. I come and go as I please. I make plans, break plans, and choose what I want to do and whom I want to do it with. I report to no one.