Now I love snacks, but I have a certain amount of anxiety presenting food to people. I think it all stems from this one time when I made my friend a grilled cheese.
We romanticize this kind of morning in today’s meme-heavy landscape, where being lazy is a kind of badge you show anyone who would prefer you to act like a grown up.
I decided I’ve got to do a better job setting myself up for the future. I’m already an aspiring comedian, for goodness sake. I need to do something my future self can be proud of.
How do 9-5ers make friends? Kickboxing classes? I am starting to chat with comics I like, but I have a complicated relationship with that.
I used to say that I wish my skin was nice enough to be one of those girls who never has to wear makeup. Guess what. We’re all one of those girls. None of you has to wear make-up.
Because it’s not about the noodles. It’s about the girl eating the noodles.
I may be on a mattress on the floor, but I’m looking up at the stars.
I love who I am when I’m giving other people advice. I love who I am when I’m telling people my “plan.” I’d love to hook my heart and my ego up to those words and, when I wake up at 4 am, be comforted by them instead of feeling so fraudulent.