People who grew up with me know that I was an enormous fan of Michael Jackson. I built a shrine to him in my bedroom and sat humming his lyrics at it each night. One time, I climbed onto the table of my shrine to hang a new photo and fell through. The top was made of glass, you see, and I was a very heavy child. Not bright either. I wasn’t injured because there was a Michael Jackson table cloth covering the top which prevented me from bleeding to death. I genuinely believed that the spirit of Michael Jackson, who was still very much alive at that point, protected me from my own stupidity. Read the rest of this entry »
“Nope. I’ll never come to LA.” My computer barks at me. On the screen is a friend who Skyped in to catch up. Her see-through, blonde hair is neatly braided to the side of her head. It falls across her porcelain shoulder, resting on her porcelain chest. When I ask her why she has such a distaste for Los Angeles she says, “It’s all barbie dolls and fake people.” Read the rest of this entry »
Be mean. Be mean. Be mean. I whisper to the mirror. My meeting with Marilu is in five minutes and I need to convert my anger into verbal fuel. I contort my face into the position I kept it in as a teenager. I look like a real B-I-T-C-H. Good. I grab my keys and head out the door.
Sylvia Plath would’ve killed herself sooner if the internet were around when she was writing her poetry. Can you imagine if her editor said she needed to have a larger online presence? So, being the passionate, aspiring writer that she was, she posted “Daddy” on her Tumblr only to receive a message which read: “u r a fat bitch, entitled cunt who should kill URSELF.” It’s enough to make anyone recoil from the internet, let alone an emotionally unstable writer months away from suicide.
“I’ve had cyber-sex before,” my 10-year-old cousin casually stated while flipping her butt-length ponytail from one shoulder to the other. I was 9 at the time and my mind was blown. Someone I knew was having sex — and apparently, it was so out-of-this-world that it belonged in virtual reality. Read the rest of this entry »
A year ago today I woke up in a hospital in Taiwan. I was in physical and mental pain. I knew that I would end up in there eventually and I guess, that day was the day. A big reason was because I worked for a person who told me I was a waste of time, wasn’t good at what I did and that I’d never find anything better than where I was. And I believed him. Another reason was the bottle of whisky I drank.
In the final installment of The Dear Diaries I graduate and “hug a lot of people and guys”. I also work up the courage to hug my long-time crush. Thank you to all of those who read these silly things. I hope you found them as funny as I did. Read the rest of this entry »
In the fourth installment of The Dear Diaries I still struggle with the spelling of tired and find a way to ensure neither of my metaphorical children will ever have sex. P.S. The best part is the P.S. Read the rest of this entry »
If I’m ever on the cover of a magazine I’d request to get my armpits airbrushed, my left breast photoshopped so it’s even with my right and I’d possibly get some adult acne removed. But I know, for a fact, I would never want my words to be photoshopped. Read the rest of this entry »
You really shouldn’t leave 5-year-olds on the roof of your car but my dad needed to get the shot. There I lay, one hand gripping the edge of his white suzuki, the other gripping a milk jug filled with water. My cousins began pushing the car back and forth, my uncle yelled “Action” and I began to make it rain.
Jason expectedly died earlier in the day and I was furious with myself for crying so much. I could tell my tears were making Allen nervous. I wish it were more socially appropriate to carry on a conversation while crying. Read the rest of this entry »
I was 16 when I tried to commit suicide. I remember standing on the edge of the roof of my family’s home, looking past my toes when my mom stepped out for a cigarette. She made eye contact with me, realized what I was trying to do and yelled:
When I was in high school, I fell in love with a man named Lucas. He was older than me, wore all black and drove a motorcycle. But I knew Lucas and I would never end up together. For one, I was awkward and scared of anything I thought could get me pregnant and for two he was a fictional character from the movie Empire Records.
I am leaning out the window of my childhood bedroom. My hips are propped on the frame and my left hand is planted on the garage roof below. My right hand is holding a cigarette. I know that at any moment my mother may burst in and catch me smoking. If she does, she’ll probably slam the window shut; trapping my upper half outside and leaving my lower half exposed for a good ol’ fashioned spanking. But that’s just the risk I’ll have to take right now.
My least favorite time was when two men were performing sexual favors on each other. What they were doing didn’t bother me as much as the fact that they weren’t listening to me. They were in a dark corner at the back of the room, making sure third base was thoroughly satisfied before they’d leave the bar to hit that home run we all so desperately crave.
I want to make one thing clear: I do not think “journalism is dead.” In fact, I think journalism is the ‘Madonna’ of professions; it will get face lifts until it outlives us all. This is a post about my decision to stop trying to be a journalist. Read the rest of this entry »
Every morning around 6 am I get home from work. I shield my eyes from the sun and scuttle into my apartment. I stare at the computer for two hours before adjusting my glare to the ceiling. Sometimes I fall asleep. Most of the time I don’t.
We were going to be famous. We were so excited about our idea, a second bottle of wine was opened just for the occasion. “We’ll call it 30 before 30!” Tessa yelled as her wine sloshed back and forth in the glass. I was frantically writing everything down. Read the rest of this entry »
“I’m not that kind of girl!” Dan squealed, his eyes twinkling under the florescent lights. We’d stopped for a couple of glasses of wine before heading to Juilliard. I felt like the Queen of New York. Lightly resting his fingertips on the rim of his wine glass, he leaned in to tell me something juicy and wonderful. Read the rest of this entry »
I am sucker for handwritten notes. Any kind, really, but especially ones I find in public. I feel sneaky peaking into someone else’s life through their writing. The notes are usually; grocery lists, nonsensical words, numbers, etc.
I started writing here when I moved to New York with the intention of chronicling every lesson I’d learned after college, it wouldn’t feel right not to have a summary. Here it is: Read the rest of this entry »
“If you were stranded on an island and could only bring three things what would they be?” I hated playing this game in summer camp. Do your parents count as two things? What kind of outlets does this island have? Do they speak a different language? Will there be boys there? The answers didn’t really matter because I always ended up choosing the same things; my parents, beanie baby collection and stuffed dog, Lucky. Read the rest of this entry »
Sprinting through the airport, I vowed to start exercising the second I got to Taiwan. There are multiple reasons why I hate running through airports, first and foremost: my travel backpack. As if my 5′ 2” frame and chronic baby-weight don’t already make me look like high schooler, running with a backpack surely seals the deal. Read the rest of this entry »
Five black dresses hung in my dressing room; two were too small, one made me look like a hussie, one had a curious stain on it and the other one was perfect for emulating the body of a pregnant woman. I went with the dress that made me look like a hussie. Exactly one day and a handful of hours later, I was tugging at that dress in front of 30 people I didn’t know, three people I knew, and a casket. Read the rest of this entry »
He stuck his fist out in front of him and looked at me with a comical sense of seriousness, “Are you with me?” I’d never been in a bar fight before. The situation sounded anecdotally appetizing, but I’d never fully developed into the bottle-breaking, bar-fighting, bad-ass I needed to be for this situation. I clenched my fist even tighter around the little slip of paper as I shoved it into my pocket. Read the rest of this entry »
“A TOAST!” Leslie yelled, smashing her butter knife against a mimosa glass. It’s 1PM on New Year’s Day and I have yet to go home and yet to stop drinking. “To the Apocalypse! Let’s quit our jobs, spend our money, and have the greatest year of our lives!” Read the rest of this entry »
I started up the steps to Lewis’ apartment, I hate ending things, I really do. Why isn’t this 2002? I could just do it via AIM, but NOOOO I have to be responsible and do it to his face…ugh. After over a month of seeing him, I knew things weren’t going to work out. Read the rest of this entry »
“Okay Marina, I have to go google Russian penis jokes for your interview tomorrow. Bye bye!” My father said not waiting for a response. I guess I should explain how we got to this point. Read the rest of this entry »
My mother covers the camera on our family computer because according to her, “The government is watching us.” Why the U.S. government is watching two retirement-aged Russians, who have yet to learn how to properly pronounce the letter ‘V’, is beyond me. I try not to question my parents’ antics so I don’t run out of things to write about. Read the rest of this entry »
“I love you,” he said. There is a point in the night where Brooklyn gets really quiet and really beautiful. It’s at this point everyone on the street falls in love with whatever is closest. For Gio, the closest whatever was me.
“I don’t know, ‘Dimitry’ is not a name you can scream out in the sack,” Leslie said looking up from the email I’d forwarded her. “Okay but how do I look in this dress?” I had 15 minutes to get ready for my first (and hopefully last) blind date. If I’d utilized my roommate’s date-reasoning, I probably would’ve avoided my last two nightmarish relationships. Read the rest of this entry »
There comes a time in every strong, independent, single girl’s life when she can’t zip her dress all the way. At this time, she crumbles to the floor in a pile of teary worthlessness and decides it’s time to start dating again. Read the rest of this entry »