Month: March 2014

15 Ways to Make You Feel Beautiful

Hey guys! I am part of a project over here called Letters to Perfectly Imperfect. This project is to help girls who struggle with body image & confidence to find a support group and hear from other girls. I will be blogging once a week there and this is my first post!

Perfectly imperfect

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Sometimes it’s hard to feel beautiful.

That is not surprising when we are constantly bombarded with images in the media of women with unattainable bodies. Here are the facts: Only 5% of women naturally have the body type that is portrayed in the media. Yes, Miranda Kerr has an amazing body, but I could never have her body no matter how hard I tried. So it’s a little unfair for me to compare myself to her, right? Research shows that 91% of women are unhappy with their bodies, which means we are often comparing ourselves more than we should.

It can be exhausting to keep up with the standards that the media sets for beauty. In fact, even models are often criticized for their looks when photographers catch them without wearing makeup.

So how do we fight back?

We fight back by loving ourselves and refusing to let the media impact…

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Writing about Writing

I always feel weird telling people I have a blog. It makes me feel like I am some lemming that follows the trends to try to be cool. Well 1. I am not cool and probably won’t ever be so we don’t have to worry about that and 2. Writing has always been a big part of my life.

I remember the first time I wrote something that was important to me. I was in my 5th grade D.A.R.E. class (Drug Abuse Resistance Education). Of course, I had already written plenty of stories before then. In first and second grade I wrote short stories with illustrations and everything. My teacher even laminated some of them so I could keep them forever (since they were created on scratch construction paper, they weren’t exactly top quality). Of course, I’m surprised my teachers didn’t call emergency meetings with my parents considering one of my little books was named “Blood Steps to the Door,” and another one was about a giant evil rabbit that was shot down by tanks. I was a delightful little child, clearly.

Anyway, 5th grade was the first time I wrote about my feelings. The D.A.R.E. program had meant a lot to me. The officer who taught it had really taken time to invest in me and make me feel special. Who knows, maybe that’s why I never did drugs after all. I did live in the meth central of the U.S. so that’s really saying something. Toward the end of the program, we were told that budget cuts were being made and the D.A.R.E. program was ending that year. I remember being so sad because I genuinely wanted other kids to experience what I did. I wrote an essay about it that I was so proud of. I talked about all the reasons it would be a mistake to get rid of the program. My teacher liked it and had me read it in front of my entire school, parents, and the D.A.R.E. officers. That’s also when I learned that I enjoy public speaking. Of course, I remember standing at the podium and reading my essay with confidence and ease. I’m sure if there was a video of it, you would see half my head struggling to appear above the podium and me mumbling my words into the microphone was that a foot taller than my head. But that’s not the point, because I felt amazing. That memory reminds me of how important writing is in my life. Even at a young age, it was the best way for me to understand my jumbled thoughts. 

From then on, I continued to write in many different ways. In 8th grade I wrote a first person short story about Joan of Arc. That was the first time I was ever sent to the principle’s office. I got a note in class and by the time I got to his office I was drenched in sweat and had probably pooped my pants. Turns out my teacher had given it to him to read and he wanted to compliment me and I wasn’t getting kicked out of school after all.

In high school I was the Editor-and-Chief of the school newspaper, The Pony Express. For the record, I wanted to change the name but apparently it had years of history and yadda yadda. Somehow I have zero copies of the paper, which is a little sad. I wrote articles about anything and everything in that paper. It was a really great experience for me.

Fast forward to college. I turn in an average of one essay a week. I used to stress over writing four pages and now I can pound out a 15 page paper in one sitting. I have written about social media, Disney, corporate business structures, Shakespeare, global economy, and probably everything in between. The problem is I rarely have any time for writing about the important things, like giant rabbits being killed by tanks. So now I’m making time for it because it’s fun and cathartic. It’s like my diary (except this time I can’t tear out the pages in embarrassment years later). So yes, I blog. If that makes me a lemming then so be it.

Hello, my name is Blamed Victim.

I have to address an issue that was in the media recently. Normally I don’t feel the need to throw my opinion into the mix over pop culture rumors, however it has less to do with pop culture than it has to do with societal issues. There have been so many people who rushed to defend Woody Allen, a man accused by his adopted daughter of molesting her when she was a child. They may defend him because they honestly believe he’s innocent, or maybe they don’t want some of their favorite filmography tarnished by association, or it could be a mix of both. Regardless of the reason, it’s not surprising that so many people are defending him, because that is the culture that has been created in America. I’m not trying to say he is without a doubt guilty, but instead, I want to ask why people are so quick to dismiss the issue (even though he married his other adopted daughter). I was disappointed to hear Barbara Walters, someone I have always admired, defend Woody Allen on the ‘The View’ saying he is a loving father from what she has seen throughout the years (as if abuse would happen somewhere other than behind closed doors). Almost worse than those who are speaking up on his behalf are those who aren’t saying anything at all. Silence from influential people in the entertainment industry is a deafeningly loud proclamation in itself.

However, this is not the first case of American society standing up for those who perpetrate sexual abuse and assault. Recently, during the Steubenville rape trial, two boys were charged with raping a 16-year-old unconscious girl. They proceeded to urinate on her and post pictures online, which ultimately incriminated them. During their trial, many people came to their defense because they are 16-years-old star football players. On CNN, one newscaster said it was “incredibly difficult” to watch these boys with “promising futures” have their lives ruined. Of course, it wasn’t their choice to rape that ruined their lives, but rather the fact that they were being held accountable for their crime. In the coverage there was no mention of what the young female victim might be going through or how it will impact her life. Even with concrete video evidence, she struggled to get support just like many women struggle to be heard amidst allegations of false claims.

Growing up, I learned how to be skeptical of abuse victims by watching everyone else do it around me. Especially in the mass media, I heard constant doubt attached to sexual abuse victims. In light of abuse claims, people would say: “she wants attention” or “she’s not remembering that right” or “he would never do something like that.” I began to question the motives of every person who claimed to have experienced sexual abuse, as if it was something to benefit from. However, research has shown that the amount of false sexual abuse claims are the same as any other crime, which is less than 3% of the cases. Yet, somehow no one doubts the victims of burglary.

From a young age, I was taught not to go outside late at night or dress in a certain way if I wanted to avoid being sexually assaulted. It’s interesting because my husband said he has never in his life been told not to rape someone, meanwhile I was given a rape whistle my freshman year of college. Women are given the responsibility to protect themselves instead of men being taught what is unacceptable. Why not unload the gun instead of shooting at a bulletproof vest? This conditioning taught me that any sexual abuse I received would be directly correlated with my own actions. Basically, it would be my own fault if that ever happened. So naturally, when it did, I took the blame rather than speaking out. I also wondered what was really considered abuse. I felt like my experience was a grey area that may or may not be a crime. Everything I had been taught growing up helped me justify and explain away the actions of my abuser. And even when I wanted to tell someone, I was plagued with doubt that my memories were really my own, or that the whole thing ever happened at all. I caught myself wondering if I had made up my own memories, something society had taught me to do many years before my abuse.

In some cases, where perpetrators are scary, it is easy for the public to villainize the abuser and feel sympathy for the victim. However, in most cases the abuser is a villain disguised by a good name and shining reputation. They hide in plain sight and surround themselves with a community that can vouch for their innocence. It is the little league coaches, the neighborhood babysitter, or a loving step-dad. In the wake of abuse accusations, these victims are immediately seen as guilty (of lying) until proven innocent. Articles written about rape often say the victim “claims” to have been raped. The word “claim” leaves room for doubt in the mind of the reader. When someone is robbed, the articles written about it don’t say they “claim” to have had their property taken. This is something our culture saves solely for sexual abuse and rape crimes, because we have been taught to always be skeptical of the victim. Assuming the abuser is innocent simultaneously implies the victim is lying. It inherently doubts the validity of the abuse.

This culture keeps sexual abuse victims quiet. The US Justice Department estimates that only 26% of rapes and attempted rapes are reported, which means large majorities do not speak up. This is a direct reflection of our culture. It silences the voices of every victim who worries if their story has holes, if they aren’t remembering the details correctly, or if anyone will believe them. The most fragile of victims are forced to defend their stories and their abuse under a microscope. There are countless cases where the victims lose over the reputation of the abuser. Abusers are often given the benefit of the doubt while victims fight to be heard. It is no wonder that most victims never speak up at all.

We need to re-wire our minds when it comes to sexual abuse and assault. I will be the first to admit I have to consciously make an effort to defend victims in my mind because I have spent the past 22 years being told to do the opposite. But I won’t let anyone else tell me what happened to me or trivialize my experience simply because they “can’t know what really happened.” We live in a culture where victim blaming is the norm and more and more people are silenced by it. As a nation, we should stand together in support of the abused because that is the only option. You have to ask yourself if sexual abuse is any less wrong if someone well respected in the community, a football star, or even a famous director does it.

 

 

10 things I wish I knew when I was 18

I recently celebrated my 23rd birthday. I know what you are thinking, this girl knows so much at the ripe age of 23, how could she possibly fit it into one post?? Well, I will give it my best shot people. 23 is not exactly a milestone, but for some reason it feels important to me. So much has changed for me in the last year: where I live, I had my one year anniversary, I got a new job, I started my master’s program at a new school, and the list goes on and on. Luckily for me, I enjoy change. As much as I love a routine, change is a good thing. So, in honor of this momentous time in my life, I thought I would write about some of those changes. I feel like a complete different person than I was when I was 18. It may have only been 5 years ago, but those 5 years have been packed with victories, failures, laughs, tears, and lots of life lessons. This is the 10 things I wish I knew when I was 18:

1. You can’t please everyone

This might seem simple enough, but it’s something I had to learn the hard way. I used get upset over the thought of disappointing someone. I made my decisions thinking more about how it would impact other people than how it would impact me. Other people were happy, but I was constantly making choices that made life harder for me and I was being stifled under the pressure of being a people pleaser. There are so many situations in life where, no matter what, someone will be disappointed. You have to find a way to be happy knowing you did what was best for you.

2. Things aren’t always fair

I think I relearn this one all the time. I first really learned this lesson when all my middle school friends got allowances and I did chores just because everyone had to “pitch in.” I had no money to buy jolly ranchers at the school store which was pretty devastating to my 6th grade self. However, I made it through somehow. I learned sometimes people get things that you want, even without working for them, but that just means you should work harder. That lesson served me well as I went into college and the workforce, knowing that there is no substitute for hard work.

3. Advice from your elders is always worth listening to

My dad used to always tell me life isn’t fair and I thought he was cynical. Cue the “I told ya so.” There are so many times I wish I had listened when people with more life experience were giving my advice. Like when my mom told my brother and I to stop sword fighting with the fire poker. A concussion and a lot of blood later, she turned out to be right. Also, it’s okay to ask for help. Even though I like to think Destiny’s Child’s “Independent Women” is my theme song, I am realizing that asking for help often takes more maturity than pretending like you know what you are doing.

4. Nothing beats a good night’s sleep

People always talk about pulling all-nighters in college. Right before my freshman year I thought for sure that I would barely sleep and spend all my time hanging out with college kids and doing cool college things. Then I realized you actually have to take classes in college. Those “all-nighters” turned out to have more to do with a computer screen than a house party. I used to stay up until the wee hours of the night cramming psychology terms and facts about tectonic plates into my head. Finally, I decided to start getting 8 hours of sleep before every test, no exceptions. I would study for a few hours, sleep, then get up early and go over the material again. I became SO SMART. Really though, you would be impressed how much of a difference it makes. For school, for work, for life: Get sleep.

5. It’s okay to be young and adventurous

Being a type A person means I am rarely relaxed. I often spend more time worrying about the future than I spend being in the moment. I have always been the person more worried about the consequences of my actions than how much fun I could have. Sounds fun, right? I will always be that person in my core, but I am learning how to let loose every now and again. I’m only 23, so I have plenty of time to worry about the future. At least that’s what I am trying to tell myself.

6. Getting a B (or C) isn’t the end of the world

Ha! This also ties into the previous one. I need to learn how to prioritize and decide what is really important. In 20 years will I remember that time I studied for 10 hours, or the time I went to Vegas instead? The answer is always Vegas.  You can retake a class but you can’t retake your life.

7. Apologize when you are wrong

If you ask my husband he will probably tell you I am still trying to learn this one. It’s true, I have not always been quick to say I’m sorry; especially when I feel like the other person was wrong too. I once had a friendship fall apart, due in part from my inability to suck up my pride and apologize (without expecting an apology in return). Another lesson close to this: forgive. A pastor at my church once said, “To forgive is to set a captive free, and to realize that captive was you.”

8. You are allowed to change your mind

I like some things now that I didn’t used to like. Isn’t that crazy? Also, I have had some opinions change over time. Sometimes that happens with maturity, life experiences, or even just getting more information. Some people call this hypocritical; I call it life. I am at the age where people like to talk about “finding yourself,” which is pretty silly because throughout life you will always be changing and evolving. This isn’t something that only happens in your 20s. It’s alright to not know who you are exactly, and you don’t have to feel pressured pinpoint who you are and stick to it forever. For example, I used to wear shirts with flames on them in middle school. I would have bet you all my lunch money that I would never regret it. I think I owe you $3.50 now.

9. Sometimes you have to shut up (even if you are right)

You can have an opinion and not tell everyone about it. I repeat, YOU CAN HAVE AN OPINION AND NOT TELL EVERYONE ABOUT IT. It’s hard to believe, but sometimes other people don’t want or need to hear what you think. This is something that I have learned going into the workforce. Sometimes your superiors will ask you to do things that don’t make sense to you, or don’t seem efficient, or just seem dumb in general. Your opinion about it doesn’t matter. One day you will get to call the shots, but for now, you gotta zip your lips.

10. You can’t tell your loved ones that you appreciate them too many times

Everyone needs to feel appreciated. Everyone. Even your stubborn dad who pretends like he doesn’t care. Tell those people you appreciate them anyway. Do it sincerely and often because life is short.

Birthday Weekend.

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I love surprises. I’m the type of person who wants everything to be a surprise, from shows, to movies to presents, and everything in-inbetween. Even as a kid, I never tried to sneak a peek at Christmas presents. I wanted to be shocked on Christmas morning. Now, I still enjoy surprising Brock for just about every holiday. I like to barely acknowledge an upcoming holiday or birthday, and I make sure to never ask him what he wants because that would be too obvious. Then on the day of, its like BAM presents. Where did these come from? Yeah from me, that’s who. Of course, he has caught on by now, but that doesn’t stop me.

Also, another issue is that I’m a bit hard to surprise. If you ask me any sort of question related to a surprise, act strange in any way, or get caught whispering on the phone, I will probably figure out what you’re doing. This happens in other parts of my life too: Brock hates how halfway through a movie I’ll already know the ending. I don’t know why my brain is wired this way, but I should probably look into becoming a detective.

All this to say, I didn’t really know what to expect for my birthday this year. Turning 23 seems a little anticlimactic because it’s not exactly a milestone. I knew Brock was planning something, but he did a surprisingly good job keeping it under wraps. He told me the week before my birthday weekend that we needed to be up and ready to leave the house by 9am on Saturday. Other than that, I didn’t really know what he was planning.

Friday night after work I went out to dinner with Brock and some of my favorite ladies, Kylie and Natalie. I met them my freshman year of college because we lived on the same dorm hall. I am so happy they live so close to me now because I love getting to hang out with them. It’s so fun to still friends with these girls 4 years later and see how much has changed in our lives since then. We talked, laughed, ate amazing mexican food and drank even better margaritas.

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The next morning, on my actual birthday, Brock made me cinnamon rolls and had a whole little set-up with presents and flowers. I opened them while eating my delicious breakfast. For the record, opening presents is always more fun in your pajamas with cinnamon rolls. Trust me. I opened a little paper with hotel reservations on it: He had surprised me with a weekend trip to Coronado to stay the night at the Glorietta Bay Inn. If you have never been there, Coronado is the most amazing place in California. It’s a small island off of San Diego and it is unbelievably gorgeous. The hotel we stayed in is super pretty and historical. Also, the Hotel Del Coronado is right across the street and it’s the most incredible building I have ever seen. It’s completely wooden and every room, tree and chair seems so have some sort of historical relevance. Needless to say, I was beyond excited. We packed our bags and headed south to the best weekend ever.

After checking into the hotel, we walked around the beach. The sand is super white and it was a surprisingly warm day. I was beyond happy because this was the first year of my life (because I grew up in Oregon) that it hasn’t rained on my birthday. It has been a while since this white body had seen the sun so I was doing my best to soak it all in. We even came across a sandcastle someone had built with a happy birthday message! Obviously it was for me.

We had the best time chatting, people watching, and wandering the streets. The best thing about Coronado is everything is within walking distance. It’s the best place to escape and celebrate. Next, we decided to restaurant hop. We were only there for one day and we ate at about three different places. We are dedicated to our love of food. We had fun drinks at a new restaurant, and the bartender even let us try a shot of the mango and chipotle infused tequila. I’m actually surprised by how much I liked it. Next we went to a mexican restaurant to get some margaritas. Are you catching on to how much I like margaritas? The bartender was determined to give me a strong drink and he put almost three shots of patron in my drink. That’s about the time I signed my death warrant for the night. We decided to go get dinner at a restaurant that makes homemade pasta and garlic bread. Nothing like good homemade carbs to help you sober up.

After eating, we decided to run down to the beach to watch the sunset. We sat on our own personal little dune and watched the sun sink behind a cliff. It was so beautiful, I think we were both a little speechless. After it set, we decided to take some cliche jumping pictures, which ended up being one of my favorite parts of the whole weekend. I rolled around in the sand, crying laughing, watching Brock attempt to jump off the dune. His form was impeccable. By the end of it, we were both covered in sand from head to toe. So we decided to head back to the hotel room. I told Brock that he better not fall asleep because I had plans to go back out again. Five minutes later I fell asleep. Busted. About a half hour later I woke up ready to rally, but Brock had fallen asleep by then. I guilted him into getting up by reminding him that I never got a birthday dessert which is probably a crime in California. So we pulled ourselves together and went down to MooTime, which had a line out the door. It’s a cute little creamery that’s really popular in Coronado, and we got there just in time because they were 15 minutes away from closing. Chocolate milkshake in hand, I could happily head back to the hotel room for the night. After watching two episodes of Cops, we both passed out.

The next day, Brock had already made plans for us to go to the San Diego Zoo for the day. This was part II of his surprise weekend. I looove animals, so I was beyond excited. The San Diego Zoo is HUGE, so we trekked around for most of the day checking out all there is to see. My favorite parts were when we saw the polar bears playing in the water, the meerkats running in and out of their tunnels, and the hippo. I have a strange obsession with hippos and there was one sleeping right by the glass! I could have kissed him. It was also really fun to ride the Skyfari, which is a little air-lift that takes you to the other side of the park. After hours in the sun, and once we had seen everything, we were definitely ready to come home. We still had a two hour drive, so we headed back. All in all, it was the best birthday I have ever had. I have never been so surprised or felt so loved. So thank you to my handsome husband who planned the best weekend that I will never forget.

Also, said handsome husband bought me a camera for my birthday! So hopefully this will be one of the last posts I make with iPhone pictures. I’m impatiently waiting for it to come in the mail. I am still in the market for a camera bag, so if you have any suggestions I would love to hear them.  

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Glorietta Bay Inn

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Day Adventures.

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Yesterday was incredible. Last month I got Brock tickets to see Adam Carolla live at the Hollywood Improv for his birthday. Hundreds of famous comedians got their start there and I have always wanted to go. So we decided to make a day of it and hang out in LA. It should be noted that we planned to leave our house early, but got distracted by things like soccer games and cinnamon rolls. You can’t win them all.

We hit the road at 11am and went straight to Abbot Kinney, which is the coolest place in Venice. It reminds me so much of Portland and feels like a little piece of home, except sunnier. We went to Gjelina for lunch. This place is heaven. Heaven. I never thought there would be a day where I would devour a kale salad but this restaurant does not make a bad dish. As we are eating, Steven Tyler walked in and SMILED AT ME as he went by our table. I’m still not over it. I wanted to send a drink over to his table but Brock wouldn’t let me.
We hung out more on Abbot Kinney, going to little stores and getting a juice box. I ran into a pile of puppies along the way. I wish that happened more often actually. A foundation was doing adoptions on the street so I went and pet a bunch of the cutest puppies you have ever seen. It is probably a good thing we weren’t in a Huntington Beach or Brock and I might have accidentally taken one home. Or five.

We were on Abbott Kinney a little longer than planned because I was 90% sure Steven Tyler parked his Mercedes SUV (blacked out windows with a dream catcher hanging inside) right next to my car, so I hung out there waiting for him like a crazy person. Finally Brock forced me into the car because you can’t wait all day for Steven Tyler (or can you?).
Next we went to the Grove, which is a huge outdoor mall in LA. It has the biggest farmers market I have ever seen, and there are so many fun things to do. We ate at our favorite little pizza place in the farmers market and walked around looking for celebrities. I saw Joe Zee, who is a famous stylist and the creative director for Elle magazine. He was wearing a Lady Gaga shirt so I couldn’t have asked for more.

Finally, we left and headed over to the Hollywood Improv. We got drinks and some snacks while we waited for the show. People handed out Mangria samples, and if you don’t know what that is then you should definitely order some! Right before we went into the theater area, Brock and I spotted Dr. Drew standing about two feet away from me. I was pretty surprised because it had not been announced that he would be there. Then a minute later we see Eric Stonestreet standing three people in front of us! I think we were both in shock. They went backstage and we filed into the theater. The three of them got on stage, and this show was the hardest I have laughed maybe ever. It was a live podcast, so if you want to listen to the show it should be up on iTunes within a couple days, and it’s free! After the show we got to meet and take a picture with Adam Carolla and Brock got his Mangria bottle signed. We spent the rest of the night raving about how amazing the whole day was, how many people we got to see, and how much we love living in a place where we can do things like this.

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The Struggle.

I love being a graduate student. For one, I am lucky to have the opportunity to go to the University of Southern California. This school is incredible. Having come here from a more run-down school in Oregon, the campus blows my mind on a regular basis. There are statues of about every important person in history, beautiful architecture, and wonderful green landscape that is an escape from the surrounding city. In my classes I get the opportunity to have incredible instructors. One of my professors is the Vice President of Programming at MGM studios, another is a Vice President for XBOX, and a guest speaker I had recently is the Promotional Manager for Fox. There is no other school where I would have the opportunity to meet and interact with real trailblazers in the entertainment industry.

Despite the advantages I get from school, I still find myself getting stressed about the future. The job market seems so bleak for young people that it’s hard to not get discouraged at times. When I moved to California, I knew I needed to get an internship right away. I applied to many different places hoping to get my leg in the door at a public relations company. After about a month of applications, I finally got called for an interview at Dolce & Gabbana’s PR office. I never thought I would end up working in fashion, but it was a great opportunity I couldn’t pass up. Flash-forward to now, I have been working at this internship for seven months. Like many internships, it is unpaid. I have loved the experience at D&G, but I thought I would apply other places for the summer in order to be well rounded when I graduate. Also, being paid would be a nice touch.

So far I have applied to countless paid internships with no call back. Despite my work experience, the school I go to, and my references. However, this is not exactly an anomaly. Countless students are taking internships, even after they graduate, in place of real jobs because they can’t get hired. Imagine, graduating with your bachelor’s degree, or even your master’s degree, and working somewhere for little-to-no pay. I fear that if I don’t find an internship this summer then I will fall behind the people I will compete against come graduation time. The problem is people who have already graduated are filling these internship spots. The market is so tough that they decide to take a little pay over none, simply because it’s the lesser evil. These graduates in internship positions are forced into a loop of internships that don’t always turn into full-time jobs. I have heard countless stories from people who have internship experience but still cannot get hired at companies. Does that sound depressing, or what??

For being part of the generation known for laziness, all I see around me are my peers working their butts off for very little reward. It does give me hope for the future, because I know how many young, talented, and educated people are out there. However, even the most beautiful flower needs light to blossom, and similarly, my generation needs opportunity if the world wants to see us shine.

Hello, Blog.

I started my last blog in 2008. It was about my day-to-day life, mostly. I was only 16 years old at the time, so most of the posts consisted of large fonts and cheesy jokes. I stopped blogging in 2011 when I got engaged. I had grown tired of my blog and wanted to focus my energy on other things, especially because at the time I was a sophomore in college and planning a wedding. There have been many times in the three years since then that I have considered coming back to my blog. I always had a reason not to: I was busy, I didn’t know what to write, or the fact that it probably wouldn’t be read by anyone anyway.

Now I am 22 years old. I am a Master’s student at USC studying Communication Management. I work at Dolce & Gabbana as an intern for the west coast public relations department. I am happily married and live in the golden state. Basically, life is good. It’s better than good. I feel lucky to have reached a point in my life where I see the fruits of my labor and I’m still young & free. However, I have missed writing. It’s the best way for me to express myself, to connect to others, and to reflect on my life. I think everyone should write. Something about putting words on paper (or on computer, as it were) brings clarity.

So maybe no one will read it. Maybe at some point I will get too busy or not know what to write about. But, I am going to do it anyway because it’s good for the soul.