Oh hey, why don’t you look at that. I’m turning 20 in a few days. 

Twenty?!? Like venti?! 2-0? A third decade? November 17th won’t just mark me revolving around the sun twenty times, it’s the next chapter of my life: the transition from mini adult to real adult. 

Think about it, when you’re twenty, you’re living in your first apartment/college dorm/with your family, working and/or going to school. You have some responsibilities (rent, groceries, school books), and do a lot of taking care of yourself, but some things are still binding you to your parents (cell phone bills, health insurance). You’re young and fancy free, screaming “I’M AN ADULT” any chance you get while eating highly discounted Count Chocula cereal and coffee three meals a day and snacking on Starbursts and nachos and watching Toy Story for the tenth time in two days while writing your UNIV papers secretly hoping you never change.

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“I’ve grown as a Person”

As I’m sitting outside (in this be-ay-you-tiful RVA summer weather), I remind myself that my sophomore year of college is about to start and I can’t help but to think about where I was mentally a year ago, about to start my freshman year. This kind of reminiscing and ruminating typically calls for the phrase: “I’ve grown as a person”

Man I hate it when people say that. “I’ve grown so much as a person since I’ve met you/did that thing/got a new job/went to college”. Growing as a person doesn’t mean in height, which would make sense, if you took the phrase literally. It means mentally, emotionally, psychologically, you know, all those things that only you can measure. I could tell you that I “grew as a person” when I started working at the pharmacy but what I really mean is that I improved my social skills with customers and learned the names of drugs and how unhappy people can be when they don’t have any refills on their prescriptions. Weird little things I know you really care about.  Continue reading

My Old Age

“You know what they say about Richmonders,” My mom told me one day when I was in middle school, “they don’t like change.” Well, my mom’s the only person I’ve heard say this so I’m not really sure who “they” are, but it’s definitely a true statement. Richmond (especially me) couldn’t handle losing the Richmond Braves back in 2008, and is struggling hardcore to build a new one now to keep the Flying Squirrels (Apparently we have a thing for old stadiums here. When Parker Field, the predecessor to the Diamond, was being demolished, the field itself was preserved and transferred over to the Diamond for the opening season).

Old Parker Field!

I walked into the newly renovated Bon Air Library just a couple of days ago, obviously not prepared for the right thing because I thought it would look like the exact same, but I was greeted to a new, more open layout. I felt like an old, confused lady, searching where the biographies used to be, where children’s books in Spanish are now, when all I really wanted was a copy of Harry Potter. Twenty minutes later when I went to check out, I cried to librarian about being lost like a five year old who wanders off at Target.

But the weirdest change I’ve had to adapt to hit me when I was driving around a few days ago, Continue reading

Irrational Fears

Does anyone else have any really strange, irrational fears?

I had a really big phobia of dogs when I was little. At the sight of any canine, I’d run away, grab my mom or dad, close my eyes and scream for a few minutes until the dog was out of sight and I was positive the dog locked in a room or crate. I applauded dog catchers (I was kind of a sadistic second grader). Walking around places like Stony Point Mall involved being on constant dog watch, and I couldn’t watch Cats and Dogs because cats were the bad guys and dogs were the god guys, which wouldn’t work in my messed up universe. People were always shocked when my parents told them about my fear, and usually said things like, “how are you scared of such a sweet dog?!” but I refused to believe them. 

I eventually got over all that at around 13, and now all I pretty much do is talk about the corgi puppy/ies Rich Husband and I will have.

I still have really weird fears now, but nothing that requires deep cries and screams Continue reading


Saturday mornings and afternoons I work the post office at good ol’ Buford Road. Everything is typically fine, do you want to send your package priority or standard, what size flat rate box do you want, no sir you can’t mail a letter to England with forty-nine cent postage, until the computer freezes up. And I don’t know what to do. I’m not the regular post office lady, I’m so confused. Help I need an adult.  I turn to the nice lady customer and tell her the truth: “I hate technology.”

I feel like there’s this expectancy for millennials like myself to all be super apt at computers and technology. Like since we all played Barbie computer games in kindergarten, we should be able to fix anything with a computer. Why should I take my iPhone to the Apple store when I could just use my children? Yeah, there are people who can build their own computers, hey James did it, and that’s cool and all, but I’d much rather be spending my time at my mom’s ancient sewing machine pretending I’m living a la Little House on the Prairie.  Continue reading