Human beings have been saying “The End Is Near” since Jesus.

If you make a habit of reading books written ten, twenty, fifty, or even three hundred years ago, you’ll be shocked to find how little has changed. Of course, everything has changed, but I’m amazed by how many books I’ve read, from all different time periods, that read like they could have been written today. That’s what I try to keep in mind when I stare at the little glass screen that I keep a death grip on throughout my day. Every day, like everyone else, I look at my bleak little pocket machine and try not to spiral. This is not a profound sentiment, this is nothing special, but now, more than ever, perhaps for the first time in my life, I don’t have a lot to say (don’t worry, I’m sure it won’t last). What can I say?

People, myself included, have been incentivized and given all of the tools they need to share their every opinion and every thought on every matter. I’m starting to think that this once was a powerful, beautiful thing, and in many ways it still is, while still being a massive net negative for society. We were never meant to consume this much information; we were never meant to see and be seen by this many people. I constantly ask myself if I really want this. We’re currently at a weird breaking point with it all. More and more, I’m beginning to feel like this kind of influx of information is doing more harm than good.

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We’ve all heard of romanticizing our lives. Whether we pretend we’re in a coming of age movie while folding our clothes at the laundromat, performing “turn down service” on our bedrooms an hour before we go to sleep each night, or walking aimlessly around the city we live as if its our first time stepping foot on its charmingly uneven sidewalk pavement, romanticizing your life is sometimes the only way to survive it.

I have plenty of experience romanticizing my life. For the majority of my adulthood, I drove a ten year old Nissan Altima without working windows or air conditioning. I convinced myself I enjoyed the sauna-like environment the car offered as I hot boxed it with marijuana smoke. After I wrecked that same car, I walked everyday to the LA metro at five o’clock in the morning, easily achieving my 10,000 steps for the day, and read my book on the hour long commute to the gym I frequented and in no way could afford. I told myself this was such a compelling lead up to my inevitable wealth and success. I had no concrete indication that I would or could be wealthy or successful, but my romanticizing forced me to believe that it would all work itself out.

My circumstances did ultimately change, and I began to want more. Life wasn’t about surviving anymore, at least not in the way I was surviving before. I found that no matter my circumstances, life was hard. It was painful. It became painful and difficult in ways that it had never been before, it opened up new frontiers for novel, but in a lot of ways better, suffering.

Suffering seems inevitable, and as my life became more romantic, I needed a way to cope with the way these pains transformed. Romanticizing your life helps you survive it, but surviving isn’t the same thing as evolving. How do we learn to enjoy the pain that growth demands?

Two years ago, I began dating a masochist.

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Katt Williams once said, “Ladies, if you got 14 women hating on you, you need to figure out how to get to 16 before the summer get here,” ….and how right he was.

Accepting that haters are an inevitable part of life, and depending on your industry, even a positive aspect of your business feels counterintuitive. We all want to be liked, most of us want to…

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I’m not here to talk about all the reasons why fashion is declining, as I am not educated enough to go over the multitude of reasons as to why that could be the case, and well, is the case.

I am but a humble observer, I’m certainly not someone who is uninterested in fashion, but I am also not a “fashion person”. I am someone who has been told, more often than not, phrases like, “Wow! I love that…. for you” or “I love your style, it’s so…. you.” Sure, these comments could very well be disguised insults, but I never received them that way at all. I just thought to myself, “Yeah. Me. Hell yeah, Me.” with a little defiant grunt and a pat on my own back.

Yes, there are several reasons as to why fashion, and what makes it worthwhile and exciting, is dying. The reasons are boring and would only be worth listing if my objective were to give myself a moment of superiority about being so informed on the obvious. You know the reasons, I know the reasons, and someone smarter than I could give you a better rundown on the nuances of those reasons, and I am so far from being a “fashion person” that I wouldn’t even know who to point you to for this.

I wouldn’t dare place you under the assumption that I am a fashion person, as I do not wish to roll around in the mud with the worst people I think one can encounter: fashion people. I’m good. Don’t confuse my disdain for fashion people as a belittling of the importance of fashion in a society, Fashion is important. I believe it is important, I know it is important. I dedicate a massive portion of my time on fashion; on buying clothes, on selling clothes, on studying clothes, on studying designers and on earning money to buy the clothes. When I was a little girl, I would collect every issue of Vogue magazine (and my “non-necessities” budget provided by my parents every month was the cost of one Vogue magazine, and one Vogue magazine only). Every month, I chose the Vogue.

Whether or not you’re “en Vogue” makes very little difference to society, and it’s not something that matters much to me as a person. However, whether to not you are yourself means everything.

Fashion is dying, but a big reason for that is because no one knows who they are, and no one seems to care.

We’ve found ourselves in a perpetual cycle of derivative style. This is largely due to the internet, due to mass consumption, due to changes in manufacturing processes, on and on. But it’s happening, and it’s a massive problem.

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Somewhere, at some time in Hollywood, the script for a story of a boring, deeply insecure matchmaker passed hands between writers, actors and studio execs, to my amazement. When movies like this are made, I feel like I must be missing something, or maybe the film industry has lost all hope and respect for moviegoers in general. Milli…

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I know we are all sick of the “gender role” conversation. Men’s position has stayed largely the same: women wanted equality, and now they have to deal with all that comes with that, including splitting the bills and financial burdens. To me, this conversation is very simple, but I am constantly reminded that it’s not to most people. Both men and women a…

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I panicked about getting older my entire life. I didn’t have my parents around growing up and was left to my own devices in terms of life lessons. No one taught me how to keep a clean house, how to do my taxes or what was a healthy way to live and what wasn’t. I can admit now that I knew people pitied me because of my youth and I could rely on my youth …

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I’m sure we’ve all seen clips being passed around on social media of Scott Galloway and Logan Ury on the podcast “Diary of a CEO”. So much helpful and insightful information was shared from this episode, most of which coming from Ury, who shared more stats and data than her own anecdotal observations.

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I normally respect Galloway’s work and insights on c…

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If you enjoyed this article, be sure to subscribe to my Youtube. I’ll be posting a video going more in depth on why women should be more selfish.

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My skin is very important to me and as I’ve gotten older, it’s not just the skin of my face that I form positive habits around. I get compliments on my skin a lot, whether on the internet or otherwise, but I am certainly no stranger to extreme hormone-induced acne flair ups or the occasionally planet-sized cystic acne on my chin when it’s that time of t…

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Photo by Jeremy Paige

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Today I was walking my dog and came across Peter, my neighbor across the street. Peter can usually be found in a lawn chair in front of his apartment complex with his head back, soaking up the sun. He's always perfectly friendly to me and Cherry, so we stopped and said hello. He asked me what my plans for the day were. It's a sunny Saturday in Los Angel…

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The last break up I had was five years ago with a guy that I was head over heels in love with. We’ll call him Thomas. He was my best friend and to this day the only person I think ever really understood me. That breakup absolutely derailed me. I was inconsolable. Looking back, I am grateful that I was able to receive that invaluable life lesson at the h…

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I apologize for the jump scare that you must have felt having read such a title from the comfort of your well curated inbox. Lately I’ve been grappling with how and why conservative messaging and media has managed to have such a stronghold on the young people in this country.

Call me old fashioned, but back in my day young people wouldn’t be caught dead…

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“Flattery will get you everywhere” is one of my favorite things to say. Like most women, I appreciate validation and attention and am more susceptible to its influence than I’d like.

Before you get upset, no, this is not a female-specific trait—it’s a human one. However, I believe this natural human tendency is most exploited in women to put us on the de…

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My mother gave me a sip of her wine cooler when I was nine years old. My mother was never a drinker, but she had a period where she drank wine coolers. They came in little glass bottles and had tropical flavors like Pina Colada. I remember she would sometimes drink one while she was driving and get paranoid about being pulled over. I think I didn’t remember her as a drinker because she preferred to get her fix from things that were easier to hide. I didn’t know she was addicted to pills until I was a teenager. I don’t remember a lot of things from my childhood.

I think she gave me a sip because she expected me to not like it and to be repulsed by the taste, but even at nine years old, I loved it. She became concerned at how often I’d ask her for a sip. Eventually I would even steal them from the fridge.

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I’m sure we’ve all seen similar statements made online. Of course, the above is usually said in jest, but is often also cited by right-wing women as they denounce the feminist movement as a whole. Whether women's participation in the workforce is blatantly detested by conservatives or jo…

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Hi MJ!

So I have somewhat of a spending problem. Whenever I have money (or even just credit), I can’t seem to stop myself from indulging. I’ve recently realized it may be a subconscious response to being raised by extremely frugal parents. I’m talking the kind that argued for hours over a ten cent refund and scolded me endlessly for leaving the bathroom light on. While I know it’s valid, I think I slowly grew to detest talking about and even considering money in that way. On one hand I do value saving because I think it’s a great way to personally rebel against the US oligarchy and beauty industry. But on the other hand, treating myself does make me happy even if it’s temporary. It’s also for utility because as you’ve mentioned, being pretty comes with privilege but also financial sacrifice. Overall, I’m a smart, confident, capable person who’s great at many things but this is the one thing I always fall short on. I know

you mentioned you’ve had similar issues in the past and are now in a better place- so wondering if you have any tips on how to work towards financial stability/freedom? Thank you so much!! Xoxo, Kim

Hey Kim -

Soooooo I’m not sure if I’m the best person to ask about his but I relate a lot to what you’ve shared. Poverty is traumatic and it works like any other trauma - you will experience trauma bonds, romanticization, maladaptive coping mechanisms, self harm and self sabotage, ect. That’s important to keep in mind.

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On August 10th, I turned twenty-nine years old. Like everyone else, aging scares me, especially since I’ve never really had any positive examples of older women close to me in my life. Every step of womanhood I’ve had to navigate by myself and I’m sure the upcoming years w

ill come with new and unique challenges, but man… I’d be lying if I told you that …

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