Why Drinking is a Way of Life


So I’m out with my friends, I call them “the BAES” because no man is more worthy (unless my boyfriend is reading this if that’s the case you are my entire universe; moons, stars, and all). I’m sitting here, clumps of the leftover sugar rim are still lingering on my lips, my martini is grazing the back of my hand, and as I sit, I’m appreciating the women I’ve allowed to keep in my life. These girls, I know have gone through their own unique trials and tribulations of which I could write novels upon novels about (but won’t because I’m that extremely rare breed of loyal friend that no longer seems to exist) and I realize that drinking has become the ritualistic healing we all have chosen to abide by too frequently to escape our ghosts and demons.

For a moment, we chug or sip and we are absent from that world we so desperately try to escape. For a moment we are happy and that’s really all we have to live for in this short era of our lives.
How fucked up is that? We all deserve happiness. But…

Alcohol is pretty close. -Dee


Adulting IRL: I’m Already Running Late

Okay. So, my first big job interview. All eyes on me. My boyfriend is texting me words of encouragement, while my dad is already asking about a starting salary. The pressure is so tangible I can feel it creeping on me like the last guy on your bus route home.

I would say I went in prepared, but I already woke up late. Stupid phone alarm.

So I’m SPRINTING in heels, but not before picking up a quick bagel and large iced coffee, extra French vanilla.

I make it onto the train, ticket in hand, and my mouth filled with bagel and strawberry cream cheese. I’m good. Maybe today will start looking up.

Shit, I bought the wrong ticket. Maybe I’m fucked. -Dee

Inspiration is For the Nobodies: Who I Aspire to Be

Look at these powerful, influential women. Just look.

They all have one thing in common. They have a special place in my heart.

These are just a few of my role models, these are women who make masses laugh and smile with a flick of their pens and a sprinkle of their quick wit.

Then there’s me.

I’m nobody, worthless in comparison to these social goddesses. What do I have to offer? An award-winning sitcom? Two bestselling books? A popular blogging site? The ability to enamor millions through the guise of an animated fish?

Nope. I have nothing, yet.

I hope to one day take examples from these ladies, who like myself, have had their own struggles, in our shared lifetime, internally, and in other instances. Granted, I don’t think I’m very funny, nor is my life. But I do tend to be goofy and extremely optimistic by today’s standards. This world we live in is a dark and hateful place full of prejudice and bigotry. Women certainly don’t have it easy. These women and I certainly know that unbearable truth, as you would witness if you took a moment to read through their stories. I feel their lives most resemble mine and they tend to give me comfort in a place so dark and off-putting. When I feel depressed I read about their antics, for the hundredth time, and I am reminded again why I write and why I act as myself in a world that does not approve.

Yes, I am weird. Yes, I am struggling. Yes, I will not always be a nobody.

These ladies have given me hope for that. -Dee

Writing & Blogging: A Beginners Guide to Being A Disappointment


Step 1: Be an 18-year-old who decides to become an English Major.

Step 2: Disappoint EVERYONE YOU KNOW.

Step 3: Try to find a job with no “real” experience.

Final Step: Become a blogger. Tell yourself everything will be okay.

Okay, yes. I shouldn’t complain, I did bring it upon myself.

But honestly? I loved nothing more in my youth than strumming through the stale scented pages of old books and learning about magical worlds and creature origins and even the sultry love story of a tortured vampire (yes, every one went through that phase even though we all said we didn’t. We did. Nerd girls cannot resist that stuff in their preteen years). But at that age, that was acceptable. What teenager thinks of becoming a heart surgeon in the most hormone induced time of their lives? Not one. Those are the thoughts planted there by controlling parents or the mind-controlling platform that is daytime television. It is very rare to become and embody the role of Cristina Yang and for a young person to automatically want that immediately after graduation is just as unusual. Writers are constantly told they will never amount to anything. Or they are told they might be better off teaching. Which, isn’t a bad piece of advice to follow, as it is a respected profession… but it’s not for everyone.

So stop telling us that. It’s getting old. Seriously.

All I’m saying is, someone should have given me [us] a bigger heads up before we knew what we’d be getting ourselves into. I mean. You try going to college for 4+ years, graduating, and then try finding a writing job right off the bat. Even with a decent two-year internship, these people want AT LEAST 3+ years of professional publishing/editing/writing experience.

How are you going to sit there and tell me that all of the hard work I put into my Brit Lit I-III essays amount to absolutely nothing? I would have made Chaucer cry with all my analysis of his writings. They were that concise and intuitive.

My point being, to be a wise and successful writer, we have to suffer. A lot apparently. Which means no jobs OR internships until we’ve realized this inconvenient truth.

Which I now have.

You hear that? I’m ready to be hired, Publishers. Come and get me. -Dee


I Graduated: Now What?


Currently, I’m laying in my bed unable to shut my eyes for fear of what’s to come first thing in the morning; my first interview for my first real job. 

For a twenty-three-year-old, that’s scary. The pressure is unbelievable. I mean, it’s happening, REALLY happening… I’m no longer a cute little student with a hopeful dream looming over my head like a halo while I try to maintain a reasonable GPA and reward myself with cocktails and bar-hopping on the weekends. It’s real and it’s now and I’m terrified. But I know I’m not alone. I know there are hundreds of other candidates (maybe you’re reading this now, who knows, the world is full of probabilities and coincidences) who might be better or worse than I am. What if I don’t get it? What if I do? What happens then? I’m a waitress; right now all I’m qualified to do is press orders into a computer system synced to the kitchen and ask how you would like your steak cooked. Are fries okay? Salt rim or sugar? I feel like college hasn’t fully prepared me for what to do next and my education was just a hazy dream I seemed to have forgotten and the possibility that I might disappoint my father is becoming more and more plausible. The adult world is a scary place and rather than do one of my most favorite things to do to comfort myself, which is surrendering to a deep repressive death-like and blissful sleep, I’m finding myself awake and scared for my future; but also excited for what it might hold and what I might do to surprise myself.

For all others in my exact shoes:


I’m right there with you and we’re gonna be awesome. Eventually. -Dee