Twelve-Year-Old Badass

I want to recapture the badass I was when I was twelve. Twelve-year-old me wasn't afraid to raise her hand in class when she knew the right answer. Twelve-year-old me wasn't afraid to be an outspoken liberal in a conservative town. Twelve-year-old me wasn't afraid to be feminist, and pagan, and publically weird. Twelve-year-old me... Continue Reading →


Growing up, I was always afraid of being seen as shallow. I was afraid of being judged for liking pretty things, for wanting to present myself in a certain way. I was afraid that I wouldn't be taken seriously. And as a twelve-year-old girl, I desperately needed people to take me seriously. So I adopted... Continue Reading →


[Note: Having trouble uploading the pics for this post. I'll try to add them later] Today is my thirteenth day in Australia. It's the thirteenth of seventy-five days of summer, the thirteenth of seventy-five days to spend with my person, the thirteenth day of waking up and realizing I did it. I left the cozy... Continue Reading →

Killing Spiders

I don't like killing spiders. They're beautiful creatures and an important part of our eco-system, but on Mondy, I killed a spider. I can't stop thinking about it, feeling guilty. I killed it because it looked like a black widow, which we sometimes get, but more than that, it was in one of my favorite... Continue Reading →

Set Those Goals!

When I was about nine or ten, I read a picture book illustrating the entirety of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem "There Was a Little Girl" or as I always think of it "The Girl with the Curl in the Middle of Her Forehead." For some reason, that poem, especially the first stanza, has always stuck with me.

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