Okay, this is a silly post. Or maybe it isn’t.I have a small trick—one I’m not sure is common knowledge or just something I taught myself without realizing it. Picture this: a sink full of dishes.A pile of laundry.An apartment that feels messy in a way that makes your chest tighten. The instinct is to think all of it . Everything at once. The whole mountain. And because the mountain feels impossible, you do nothing. My trick is smaller than that. I tell myself I don’t have to

Can you tell I’ve been procrastinating writing this? Or is it just me. Okay. Here we go. I arrived in Los Angeles .I had made it. My dream life was about to begin. My forever city was under my feet. The first six months were electric. I drove endlessly deliberately trying to touch every corner of the city, as if knowing every street would somehow make it mine. I didn’t want there to be a single road I couldn’t say I’d been on. I loved it that much. I loved it so much I tried

Okay… these aren’t completley awful outfits I’ll admit that. There were, obviously, a few that didn’t make the collage. These looks all come from the time I was living in Los Angeles, when I was actively discovering fashion and felt, for the first time, officially “allowed” to dress exactly how I wanted. Big city rules. Or maybe the absence of them. I’ve always been experimental with clothes. In elementary school, my signature look was a skirt over pants with green high-top

I’ve lived in San Diego twice now both times completely unintentional, honestly. Let’s start from the beginning. I’m originally from Orange County, California. In 2015, I moved to Portland, Oregon for the first time my first real move out of my childhood home and into adulthood. I moved with an ex, who isn’t especially important to this story except for one detail: I told him I was leaving Orange County with or without him. Not because I didn’t care I did but because I alread

1. 4. 2. 5. 3. 6. one - okay these Lululemon Socks are truly worth talking about and sharing. I consider myself something of a sock enthusiast, particularly loyal to styles I love, to the point of genuine disappointment when a company discontinues a specific line (Sof Sole fans will understand). This pair checks all the boxes: they are form-fitting, feature light cushioning along the sole, and have a slightly stretchy, athletic feel without being restrictive or suffocatin

Am I a shopholic? Is it OCD? Or is it a good old fashioned act of lonliness. I’ve fallen down countless shopping rabbit holes scrolling through eBay, Etsy, Amazon, Google Lens trying to track down the exact object I’m imagining in my head. Most of the time, after a long and exhaustive search, I find it. And when I finally hit “purchase,” there’s a quiet satisfaction, a sense of arrival. But this particular rabbit hole made me pause and really question why I do this at all. Th

Hello anonymous friend, I’m Taylor. I’m 32 years old, and I’m still a waitress. That sentence tends to land with a reaction—surprise, curiosity, sometimes judgment. I’ve learned to notice it, and to let it pass. I never went to college in the traditional sense—unless you count the trade school I attended to become a veterinary assistant. I graduated, technically qualified, and promptly fainted during my first surgery. That was the moment I realized I was not built for that wo