Little Rock and Learning to Listen

I’ve only been in Little Rock for 12 or so hours when I find my way to the Flying Fish. My friend heralds this place as “the best fried catfish place” but I know when she says the name that it’s nothing extraordinary. We have one in Fort Worth, a place where rich people go to feel like they are back to their roots, low country fare serve fried that tastes like an indulgence when compared to the gluten-free organic food that is usually consumed.

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On Having A "Real Job"

“Hopefully you won’t still be doing this by then.”

The “this” he was referring to is my weekend job: I work in hospitality at a music venue. I did this for about six months part-time after I graduated college before I landed my first “real job.” When I moved on from that first “real job” a year later and started my current full-time job at a non-profit, I returned to this backstage hospitality job on the weekends (because Americorps basically pays you in loose change).

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For Everything There Is A Season

I have not listened to "Mr. Brightside" by the Killers since graduating college. 

My 2016 Boston College grads feel me on this. That song might be on every single playlist I made those four years. It was the party song. It's a great workout track. We'd bump it on car rides—out of state, to the local grocery store, it didn't matter. On my 22nd birthday, my best friends threw me a party, and I stood on a table while I and a roomful of humans shouted "I NEVERRRRRR" at top volume. I don't remember a time when I didn't know all the words (honestly, does anyone not know all the words?).

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The Magic of No

Despite the fact that I am oddly aware of all of this, I love making plans. The idea of a full social calendar has always been appealing. I'm the quintessential "extroverted-introvert" who lives for the opportunity to be a party girl, yet craves serious alone time. By Monday, I have plans for a mid -week dinner and by then, Friday night plans are brewing. Meanwhile, all the while, I’m thinking, “Shit, I just want to do nothing in peace, yet have an ongoing conversation via text with my best friend.” All of this mental anguish is because I said “yes.”

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On Human Connection in the Age of Technology

Now, at nearly 24 years of age, I go to bed every night with the latest version iPhone in front of my face and happily let it greet me every morning. This tiny computer is my companion; I couldn’t imagine life without it. It serves as an escape when I need it to, and a distraction when I don’t. It has the power to remove me from reality and cut down drastically on actual physical connection. I, more often than not, chose to be in that simulated world at my fingertips instead of in the present moment.

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On Becoming A Food Writer

There was a time about a two years ago when I found myself seated at a table surrounded by wine glasses filled with varying types of expensive wines, waiters fluttering to and from my table bringing course after course of exquisite food. And my primary emotion? Not delight, but disbelief. I felt like a fraud.

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The Mess I Like to Call Happiness

My run was a quick relief from the busy day I had been having that Sunday. I had a rough draft due for an editor. I had to work on data for my internship. And the next day I was starting my new full-time job. I was exhausted. So I went inside and took a selfie to describe this mess of my life on Instagram. The mess I like to call happiness.

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5 Life Lessons Theatre Taught Me

I was able to join the cast of two local theatre productions now as a post-grad. I eagerly slipped into my roles and savored my experience on the other side of the audience. Instead of hiding behind my mom as the characters signed autographs, I became the characters that the children lined up to meet. This magical transformation reminds me of how fortunate I am to have theatre at every stage in my life.

Along the way, theatre has taught me these 5 important life lessons.

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The Year of the Girl (and Quinoa)

I didn’t make a New Year’s resolution for 2017. I was over setting myself up for failure, so in the spirit of self-love, I decided to challenge myself in more productive ways. I set short term goals, like not getting too drunk to remember the ball drop (failed) and not crying at midnight (allegedly failed). 

I did, however, develop a theme and set of rules for the new year. My mantra?  “2017 is the year of the GIRL.”

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When Writing Feels Like Group Therapy

Isn’t this a picture of the creative process? Isn’t this a picture of the way I am always tempted to write? Sitting down at my desk often feels a lot like sitting down in group therapy. I am being asked to share my heart, to tell my truth, so I begin to. I start putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) but then I make the mistake of looking around.

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