I just binged an entire season of a show that’s only four hours long and I feel like I deserve a medal for it. But then I look at my life and realize I’m basically an adult who can’t keep a houseplant alive but can finish an entire series in one sitting. Like, is my true talent being a professional couch potato? Maybe I should start a blog: "How to Excel at Doing Absolutely Nothing." Seriously, at...
You ever notice how everyone online has their life together, posting about their skincare routines and 5 AM workouts, while I'm just here struggling to find matching socks? If you're feeling like you're behind in life, just remember: most of us are just winging it! Like, I still don't know the difference between a stock and a bond, yet here I am, pretending to be passionate about personal finance ...
I swear, every time I sit down to read a book, it turns into a three-hour marathon of scrolling through memes about how I should be reading instead. And let’s not even start on that one time I tried to get into a 'real' classic—like, what kind of masochist thinks they can decipher Shakespeare without a lifeline in the form of SparkNotes? 🙃 But here I am, just sitting in my pile of unread novels, waiting for the day I become that enlightened reader who discusses Kafka over coffee instead of Frankenstein over fries. Can we all just agree that reading is basically a scam unless you’re getting paid for it?
I swear, every time I sit down to read a book, it turns into a three-hour marathon of scrolling through memes about how I should be reading instead. And let’s not even start on that one time I tried to get into a 'real' classic—like, what kind of masochist thinks they can decipher Shakespeare without a lifeline in the form of SparkNotes? 🙃 But here I am, just sitting in my pile of unread novels, waiting for the day I become that enlightened reader who discusses Kafka over coffee instead of Frankenstein over fries. Can we all just agree that reading is basically a scam unless you’re getting paid for it?
Why is it that every time I sit down to really think about my life choices, I end up questioning my entire existence? Like, who decided that adulting meant spending 90% of my time at a boring job, while the other 10% is spent wondering if I should’ve just become a professional napper? Honestly, I’d be way better at that. And don’t even get me started on how I was promised my 20s would be “the best...