Business Cards.

I didn’t think people actually did this, but it made me feel very adult just now—

A few nights ago, I showed my business card to a friend of a friend mainly so that we could jest about the orange color scheme of my company. What I don’t remember is the guy keeping my card… & surprise! He e-mailed me today.

I don’t know why, but the idea of giving out my contact information on a 2.5 by 3 inch card, made me feel my movement as an adult into the real world far more than the last year of being financially independent. Weird, huh?

But maybe the fact that I was super excited about it just now, made me regress a few years back again. Oh lord.



Let me preface this by saying that I am still a bit “under the influence”, so please forgive any glaring grammatical or spelling errors that may occur in my following rant—

I spent the evening hanging with my lovely friend Col (as per the usual Friday night) and my cousins. The Kuyas, wonderful as they are, retired early so I decided to continue on with some sarcastic & somewhat intellectual banter with their friends until it was time for the Bowery to send us on our way, which really means that the bar was closing and those employed by the establishment were trying to get home, but most of all trying to send us to our humble abodes. We continued our presumed deep conversation on the corner of 4th & Bowery until I decided to bow out of the discussion of books & American society in order to return to the wonderful place that is my bed (I assume they continued on, but for how long, I will not guess).

My walk home, which under normal circumstances would be quite agreeable, was unpleasant to say the least. Suffice it to say—

I hate that because I have two x chromosomes, I need to be far more cautious when walking home in the early hours of the morning than those graced by one y. Tonight I am thankful for three things: my long-lost lesson from woman’s self-defense to always check behind me while walking, well-trafficked New York streets, & the graciousness and protectiveness of decent men who take the time to stop the harassment coming from those who force unwelcomed advances upon me.

Goodnight world. I’ll believe in you again in the morning. As for tonight, screw you.


I have always been afraid of the dark. It’s an embarrassing phobia for a girl of twenty-four, but it’s real nonetheless.

The one place that reminds me of this fear most is a long and straight walking path that leads from my grandfather’s house to my most favorite hiding place in all the world. This path, shrouded by a wood, seems to stretch with every step I take. The trees, which always look so beautiful from a far, grow tall and menacing as I draw near, casting dark and cruel shadows that tease and mock me as I struggle to place one foot in front of the other in search of my salvation.