Twenty-Three Things I've Learned In My Twenty-Three Years
Happy birthday!
I spent my birthday morning, at five a.m. today, clutching the porcelain of my bathroom toilet, cursing out dairy and not alcohol this time, surprisingly.
Although I’m nowhere near having a fully matured frontal lobe—two more years, to be exact—I’d like to share some things I’ve learned these past twenty or so rotations around the sun.
Maybe at twenty-five, I’ll accept my lactose intolerance.

Never shave your legs before a first date. No one, despite how attentive or attractive or well-employed they may be, is worth it.
Be a regular! Somewhere! Anywhere! There is something so homey & heartwarming about walking into an establishment, whether it be a coffee shop or your local pub—former is encouraged for stability, latter shall make for hilarity—and seeing a gaggle of familiar faces. Sometimes those familiar faces, especially the “quirky ones,” will make for beautiful stories.
Go to the library! Read a book!
Never ever let someone tell you you’re too much.
If you walk into a man’s apartment and he has a taxidermied deer head on the wall, exit immediately. Save yourself three months of torture.
Laugh. Lots. Laugh at everything and anything.
No matter how hard you try, if you studied abroad at any point in your life, you will talk about it all the time. Embrace it. Be annoying. Those months in Barcelona were transformative, goddamnit!
Everything will make a good story, I promise.
Do not ask out your Uber driver.
Girls can do anything!
If your almost forty-year-old male coworker asks you out on a date, please do not say yes.
Especially if he uses a standing desk.
Fall in love. All the time. With everyone. I’m a local at this coffee shop near my hometown, Funky Java in Villa Park, and every time I leave, the owner, Larry, waves and smiles: “Love ya!” Tell your grandma or your uncle or your barista or your waiter you love ‘em dearly.
People should really frequent the roller rink more often.
Wear that silly, stupid Halloween costume.
Kiss a firefighter. It’ll make for a good story.
Be wary of splitting an edible with your father on Christmas Day. You will get scared and debate fessing up to your mother, and he’ll drop ham juice all over the tile floor.
Find your song.
Never be ashamed of still sleeping with stuffed animals. Be ashamed of sleeping with questionable, jobless men? Yes. But not stuffed animals.
Karaoke to TLC’s “No Scrubs” at some point or another. It’ll be great, I promise.

Don’t be embarrassed.
Eat as much cake as your heart desires.
Maybe you are lactose intolerant after all.
Never ever let someone tell you you’re too much.
Cheers!





#19 really spoke to Shaquille O’Seal and Dino DeVito sitting on my bed right now
Lovely