Menu editor by day, bad movie lover by night. My ultimate goal in life is to end up on Tom Hanks' speed dial.
I write about my culinary + eating adventures at Introverted Gastronome.
I Tweet too much at @blessthisjess.
A couple of years ago, (around this time although I do not remember the day nor does it warrant looking up) I, too, graduated college.
That’s right, you fresh crop of Facebook photo albums, I ALSO once carried a smart phone while frantically looking for my parents post-ceremony, lost in a sea of light cardigans and Ann Taylor mom pants. That’s right, you group shots of bright cheeks and “it’s weird that I hooked up with him and he got in this picture anyway!” I was there once. I held the diploma and then stuck it on my wall instead of burning or eating it. I did it as well.
Time, you devil. I look at these Twitter statuses, ye throngs of faithful social media mavens, displaying optimism and fear and all that lies in between—and I feel old. Well, not old in the way Rose was SO old she deemed it perfectly fine to drop a bajillion dollar necklace in the sea. Old in the way that my bread feels old: moldly, but still potentially usable.
I’ve been getting nostalgic about graduating from my alma mater two years ago. The first thing that comes to mind when looking back is, Man, the only goal I had walking down that aisle was to be a writer. And then I think about all the other stuff I’ve accomplished during the past 731 days instead - solidifying relationships with my immediate family and close-knit group of friends, somehow surviving living in NYC, making tons of mistakes and learning from then, losing 50+ pounds on my own, learning to respect the humble kale chip, paying my own bills without going broke, falling in love with myself, knowing my own self-worth, etc. I’ve come a long way since Fordham. Kudos to me.@1 week ago with 196 notes