Dear Storm At thirteen you think you have everything figured out. You’ve got these big dreams and even bigger ambitions. Your future plans are typed out, taped into a notebook – your equivalent of set in stone – and you think you’re ready for whatever’s coming. The plan is to finish high school with all A’s and then dive right in to a journalism degree. You think you’ll work for a newspaper, write words that change the world, live in an apartment with French windows and a view of the ocean. You want to meet a boy who likes symphonies as much as you do and sip caffeinated drinks until…
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I Didn’t Sign Up For This
I was 9 when my mom sat me down an announced we’d be getting an addition to the family. Instantly, I was overjoyed. A puppy! A kitten! I began brainstorming name ideas – spot, meow, moo, fish? Then, I considered how much negotiating would be necessary before I got permission for the animal to sleep on my bed. That’s when mom popped my bubble. “How do you feel about having a little brother or sister?” A little—what?? I’d been an only child for 9 years (and it’d been great, by the way: no sharing my room, parents, toys, treats or cake). “Storm? How does that sound?” I’ll tell you the…
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Cats (a review you didn’t know you needed)
If you’ve arrived at this post by asking yourself, “should I get a cat?” You can stop right here, because the answer is and always will be very simple: yes, you most definitely should. Growing up, my family always had pets. Cats, dogs and ill-fated fish I generally named Gerald or Steve. But no matter their size or stature, these animals were considered important members of the family. We proudly brandished our fur covered clothing to the world, while showing anyone who was willing to look the abundant photographs we kept on our phones. But despite being raised as an all-round animal lover, I’ve always had a deep-rooted adoration for…
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On The Edge Of Normality
I had an image of myself, gliding gracefully into Work Life. I’d start my first day with a cappuccino in hand, sunglasses on my head; the wind rustling my hair just enough to get that ‘movie moment’ likeness. With a denim jacket slung over my arm, I’d glide across the streets in my four-inch high heels (like they were no big deal) and enter the towering building resembling Jessica Pearson from ‘Suits’: tall, elegant and ready for anything. But that’s not what actually happened. I ditched my high heels for sneakers before even stepping a foot out the front door of my house, tugged on the denim jacket two blocks…
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I Wrote A Book When I Was 7 (it was awful)
When I was seven, I wrote Standing in the Night: a four-page catastrophe, riddled with spelling errors and based (heavily) on a TV show my parents were watching at the time. Unsurprisingly: it’s not good. But despite its many (many) flaws, it will always be my own personal masterpiece. This story marks the beginning of my deep-rooted love for writing and has the sort of charm that can only really be created by a seven-year-old with high ambitions, and a stomach filled with cupcake icing. Since then, writing has played a key role in my life. While my friends played make-believe at school, I was hunkered down with pencils and…
