"If I clean this toilet I can have a beer tonight."

I’m constantly amazed at how challenging it is to be an adult. It’s like everyday there’s something new I have to do that won’t get taken care of unless I actually take the initiative to do it.

I’ve basically had to turn into a parent for myself in order to get anything done. I remind myself to do things repeatably even though I heard myself the first time, I nag myself incessantly to do gross chores around the apartment, and I even discipline and reward myself with a behavior chart I keep on the fridge. Five gold stars mean I can go out for happy hour on Friday.

I’ve recently put myself in time-out (spent all day on the couch watching whatever Sandra Bullock movie TBS plays) for breaking curfew and I’ve lectured myself about not taking vitamins when I started sniffling last week. I’m at the point that I think my actual mother feels left out when she calls because I’ve already covered her territory. She calls expecting an opportunity to nurture (tell me what to do) and instead she gets a co-parent complaining about misbehavior and paying the cable bill on time.

While I’ve enjoyed being a parent to myself and ending each night with a warm glass of milk and Goodnight Moon, I’ve started to wonder when I will transition from being a faux-adult to being a real one. Read More »

I DON'T WANNA GROW UPPPPP

While most people begin planning their birthday celebrations months in advance and turn the entire birthday month into a party all about them, the thought of my November birthday is making me ill. Instead of spending my back-to-school days partying with my friends at football tailgates and planning my Halloween costume, I’m having near-panic attacks about my impending b-day.

Why? Because I’m turning 20 and it is scaring the crap out of me.

I haven’t always been afraid of my birthday. When I was a wee tween, I was so excited to turn 14 I had a countdown on my wall. I was constantly reading books that made it seem like the age to be. The girls seemed so sophisticated and mature, usually because they were dealing with things like getting their first kiss (which I coincidentally got when I was 14…I knew it would be an awesome age). Getting older was exciting, too. There were so many great perks that came with a new year: higher allowance, driver’s license, R-rated movies. But then I turned 18 and all the scary changes that came with that age threw me for a loop. Read More »

I will admit it, I know nothing about moving, especially to a city. I’ve lived the last 18 years of my life in a small town in Northern Ontario, where my parents took care of my every need.  I was happy, I was comfortable, and best of all, I knew my way around. The only time I had ever moved was when I was 2 years old, when we moved across the street (really), and I’m pretty sure I slept through most of it.

I grew up in the kind of town where you can’t walk down the street without seeing someone you know, and, of course, everyone knows your business. But as great as that all sounds, the time had come for me to spread my hard-partying, college-going, moving-to-the-city wings.

After being accepted to college just outside of Toronto, I thought “why should I wait until September to move?” So I packed up my things and began my life as an adult. I found a gorgeous 2 bedroom apartment right beside my future school to share with a couple friends – the only catch was that the lease started in July, my friends weren’t moving until September, and I would be on my own for two months. I moved in last week, and not only have I learned the joys of being able to walk around naked, I’ve also learned a thing or two about living on your own for the first time.

1. Save yourself the hassle – pack smartly. I got to my new place and decided to unpack dishes and the things I would need for my kitchen first. While this is a great idea, having zero labels on any boxes has left me completely forkless. Spoons? Knives? The cool egg timer I bought for the “once-in-a-blue-moon” occasions I want hard boiled eggs? Yes. But forks? No clue where they went! And it will take me days to dig through every last box in this mess of an apartment to find them. It may be annoying to organize and label your stuff when you pack, but it is not nearly as annoying as attempting to eat spaghetti with a spoon. Read More »

I would have never dated me three or four years ago. Sure, I was lovely in most ways and I was a catch in most ways, but there was one little thing about dating that I just didn’t get: being friends after the breakup.

When my heart was broken before, I knew exactly how to manipulate the story to victimize myself and follow up with passionate vengeance. I never even gave a guy a fair chance to break up with me without it being ugly. And looking back on that, it makes me thoroughly sad.

These days, I understand relationships as more than ultimatums or pending doom and broken heartedness. Now I get it.

If I was that close to a guy before, close enough to let him be the only boy I would even kiss, he must have had something to contribute to the world and my life more than sex, right? Right. So why would I cut all of those positive things out of my life just because we made a decision to end the intimacy?

Upon realizing just how much I was giving up when I cut off all ties with my exes, I began changing my ways. I am now friends with all of my exes; yes, every last one. I have rebuilt the bridges I burned and, in fact, just hopped on a plane last month to go visit my most recent ex. As a FRIEND. And we had a great time!

When you are of the mentality that you can’t be friends with a dude after you break up, you are already hindering your relationship. You are already screwing up its natural course of growth and making aspects of the relationship ugly that don’t need to be. Damning your post-breakup relationship to Hell is not only immature, but it’s sad; if you liked a guy enough to date him, you should like him enough to be there for him when you’re done dating one another. Read More »

I was home for Fall Break for four days, and I realized that maybe adapting to college was easier than I expected. When I entered my house Friday night, I didn’t see a place where I had numerous study sessions, birthday parties and mental health days. I saw a place to do laundry for free, watch some mindless television and sleep for awhile.

Sure, it was nice to be home. But I kept feeling like I had to go back to school, like this was more of a temporary sleepover than a homecoming. While the weekend kept me busy from noticing that my house was not exactly home, it also uncovered a new strangeness which college created—meeting up with high school friends.

Most of my high school friends, all of whom I have known for years, go to college within two hours of my hometown. So when a few of us come home for the weekend, we all come home for the weekend. And while I loved being around people who never need an explanation for my random songs or not-funny jokes, it was also startling to see how just a few months have changed us.

I left my friends for the entire summer, and I noticed little change when I came back. But now my friends are not just sitting around their houses or working at the local Dunkin’ Donuts; they’re making friends, testing their boundaries and (some of them) are becoming people who I never would have talked to in high school. When it’s just the few of us watching a movie or walking around town, I can’t entirely ignore the college sweatshirts, new belly-button rings and anecdotes starring new best friends. I can’t pretend that this is last June, when we all just graduated and were ready for something new. Read More »

I know I’m lucky. Five of my best friends from childhood live within 5 minutes of me in the city. Most of us have been friends for 17 years (wow, that number scares me). I’m not going to lie and say it’s been easy for all of us to remain friends.

We all split up for 4 years of college, sometimes had sporadic contact, and occasionally went months without talking to each other.

Even now, living so close, sometimes a month or two will go by and we’ll realize we haven’t hung out. We’ve all grown into much different people than we were as kids, and if we met today, we wouldn’t necessarily all be the best of friends. But we grew up together and have enough in common that we’ve chosen to remain friends.

Key phrase: We grew up together.

In addition to my close childhood friends, I’ve collected friends from college and from post-college as well. These people didn’t know me as I was learning my multiplication tables, but they got to know me as a person much more like the one I am today. They chose to be friends with me, and not the childhood version of me.

I sometimes think about those friends from my past that I didn’t keep in touch with. Those girls I once referred to as my best friends. One in particular, I was best friends with from kindergarten all the way to 10th grade, when we slowly started drifting apart. We had sporadic contact in college, as in, “Oh my God, we so totally need to hang out!!” but of course we never did. Sometimes I get seriously sad thinking that someone who once knew me better than anyone else has no idea about what I’m like now. Sometimes I wonder why we let our friendship go when we had so much history together. Read More »

A recent New York Times article tells parents to “Please Relax, It’s Just Camp.” It details the fact that parents are WAY too involved in their child’s summer camp experience and are constantly calling and meddling. And yes, the NYT is correct. It is just camp. And parents do need to relax.

However, these parents are sending their children away to live with absolute strangers during some of the child’s most crucial developmental years. I can see how it could be difficult and extremely frightening. But, I think I’m solid proof that, while camp can be a scary place, it’s generally not life-damaging.

During middle school I went to summer camp at one of those camps on a lake with an insanely cheery name. (You know the type, “Happy Valley” or “The Best Place on Earth.” Barf.) At this particular camp, we were NOT allowed to talk to our parents, no matter what. Of course, cell phones didn’t really exist, but parents were told not to call the camp unless of an emergency and even if they called, we were never allowed to speak to them. We did a little thing called writing letters. Remember that? Read More »

Do you want to date Peter Pan? I don’t want to date Peter Pan. This could be partly due to the fact that I’m most familiar with the Mary Martin version of the movie, but still. What girl wants to be with a guy who would rather be in Neverland?

Of course, Peter Pans can be fun because they usually act like kids. They like to go out and play and shun anything to do with responsibility and growing up. They can make you feel young too. But isn’t there a point where we’re supposed to grow up? Can’t growing up be fun?

I for one enjoy growing up. And there was nothing more annoying than my ex who was constantly depressed about getting older. When it came to anything involving responsibility, he cringed and said, “why couldn’t I have just stayed in high school forever? Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

Um, no. Read More »

While I was growing up, I had a hell of a lot of fun. My very early years were spent going to the local sports complex with my dad and my little brother, playing backyard baseball/soccer/tag with a gaggle of kids from the neighborhood, having fashion shows with gear from my massive dress-up box for my mom. Then, as I got older, my friends and I started throwing boy-girl parties involving air hockey tournaments and games of spin the bottle, and would have sleepovers where we dyed our hair and cleaned the house on Saturday afternoons so my mom would give us movie money.

In my early teen years I’d hang out at the skatepark and take trips out of town with as many people as we could pack in a van to watch bands play; later, at the end of my high school career, weeknights were spent driving around, listening to jams and making pointless stops at WalMart, and weekends were spent partaking in outlandish late-night drinking shenanigans accompanied by board games.

Then I went to college. And while some of my best friends did attend the same school as me, and while I did meet a handful of fantastic new people, for the most part, I was pretty miserable. I went from a small town where I had known everyone for 5+ years to a giant school filled with rich kids from suburbia who wouldn’t know real fun if it kicked them in the teeth. Read More »

A bachelor’s degree is a funny thing. Depending on your major, it’s either the equivalent of an extremely pricey receipt with a huge FINAL SALE stamp on it, sending you off to continue your studies, or it sends you to work. In either situation, the joys of the undergraduate lifestyle are mourned on almost a daily basis.

No more are the nights of frat parties and pregaming at seven A.M. for football games. The real world isn’t all bad, don’t get me wrong, but before you make that giant leap to becoming a legitimate person, take the time to consider what lies ahead.

1.) The phrase “I need” has likely lost its charm with your parents. Unless it’s food or some sort of medical emergency, they know damn well you’ll spend any extra money to supplement your happy hour four work nights a week. They also know you’re making money, and therefore, shouldn’t spend it if you don’t have it. This is never not depressing. You can only fake having to go to the doctor so many times before they realize you’re on your own insurance, and sadly, cute little dresses no longer qualify as “emergency” spending. Read More »