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Continue reading →: I Had a Secret
A very well-kept secret. I’ve had it for years—decades, even. I’ve always waited for the moment people find out, when everything clicks, when the mask drops and I am exposed for what I really am. On one hand, I’m impressed that no one has put together the pieces. On the other hand, my nervous system reminds me I have yet to be caught in every waking moment. Every test I’ve ever submitted, every email I’ve ever sent, every deliverable I’ve ever completed threatens to expose me. In the spirit of giving, I’ll divulge—so long as you promise to never tell…
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Continue reading →: Fine, I’ll Do It
As the Washington Post crumbles in the wake of fascist leaders who feel a bit too on the nose, I have no choice other than to stand in where the Washington Post has fallen. Let me be clear—I don’t want to. We shouldn’t have to rely on twentysomething-year-old journalists with a WordPress blog to report on news, to offer some perspective on diplomatic issues, to hypothesize the broader effects of Trumpism on the world and what it means for our future. That’s a lot of work that I don’t want to do. Don’t get me wrong, I stay informed—I’m a…
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Continue reading → : 24
I am writing this in my final days as a 23 year old. My final days of patiently waiting to not be a 23 year old anymore. 24 is arguably the first age where you are old. (25 goes back to being young, though) And I have been greatly enjoying aging my parents by reminding them they are about to have a 24 year old daughter. (Which surely ages them way more than me) I’m not sure what to expect as a 24 year old. I still live at home, working in my entry-level job that AI threatens to overtake…
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Twenty-Something Year Old Journalist 