This is the list of things to do when you find yourself heartbroken, or bored, or depressed, or lonely, or hungry, or slightly (or extremely!) constipated: 1.Write about it. Write in your journal until your wrist hurts and you worry that you’ve developed carpal tunnel or arthritis or gangrene or leprosy. Then crack your wrist […]Read More The To-Do List
Mid-last week, I decided to make a list about all the Great Things About Being Single Again. The number one thing on that list? How much longer a tube of toothpaste will last me. When I discovered that, I laughed for a solid eight minutes. It was one of those side-aching, cheeks-hurting kind of laughs. […]Read More Hello. It’s Me.
I was originally planning on writing about why I am scared of my laundry basket. Not the basket itself, per se, but the heaps of clean clothes I put into it every week and never fold, because why do that when you live alone? Where was my accountability? My laundry basket looms large in my […]Read More Change of Subject
It began, as it always does, with Florida–the nation’s phallus. Around 7:30PM on November 8th, I paced around my mom’s kitchen eating ice cream and praying to whichever God likes girls who stress-eat ice cream while pacing around their mother’s kitchens. When Florida went for Trump, I started sobbing. I know that I tend to […]Read More The Downward Spiral
Back when I was a delusional college student, I used to dream about becoming a professional partygoer, like Tila Tequila, minus the tequila and the whining. I was enthralled by the idea of getting paid to attend parties and make the parties cooler. Here’s the thing. Even in college, I hated parties. I don’t like crowds. […]Read More Now What?
I stopped writing after the election. I didn’t write my morning pages. I only wrote poetry when I had to, which was once every other Friday for work. I didn’t touch my book. I couldn’t even look at my blog. I mean, no one else was looking at my blog, either, so I didn’t feel […]Read More Our Voices Matter
That’s right. You heard it here first. I’m back. Get ready.Read More Don’t Call It A Comeback
I turned 26 last Friday. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, but Whitney! You don’t act a day over 12! Or look a day over however much younger you would like to look or act! Thanks, reader. That makes me feel really good about myself! I DON’T look a day over fetus. I spent my […]Read More 26 is The New 25
My blog has generally been a place where I turn tragedy into comedy. But the thing is, you can only turn a personal tragedy into comedy. You can’t be like, “oh, ha, ha, the holocaust was so funny,” because there is no way to make that hilarious. But you CAN be like, “remember when […]Read More Hey, You.
It’s like Asimov’s I, Robot only less fun and the movie adaptation would star Michael Cera in drag as me instead of Will Smith as the lead guy. I’ve been exhausted lately. Not post-blood clots nap time exhausted, but so tired that I actually have to lie down or I will pass out. The fatigue starts behind […]Read More I, Hypochondriac