Blogger Bound 💻📝

HAPPY FRIDAY! Been a long week…. for me at least! And I am moving this weekend.. so this blog is my outlet to harness my chi right now 🙂

Since I am a writer it’s only natural to praise other writers, dah! I started writing when I was young, like 4th grade young. I kept a diary as most children in the 90s did (not like today where your diary is Facebook). It was a super cool white splattered 90s diary with Keep out & Secret Stuff on the front with a code lock on it (pictured above.) Because clearly my 4th grade deep dark secrets were going to be the most riveting reveals that my friends and family would find. Let’s see:

Dear Diary,
Today I thought I was going to die. Because my mom got lost going to P.A. We ended up in Delaware. But we made it. I got scared. Well, see ya tomorrow. “by” image

Obviously we did not learn what fragments were, not to use them and the word “bye” was not in my list of spelling words that week.Thank God we made it through that haha (which is ironic  because the future me went on to grad school and my first “big girl” job in the smallest, most pointless state to ever exist called Delaware). The next entry goes on to say I got 100 on my English test ( Obvi!) and that I was going to get glasses and braces and that my mom has to work every night and I was sad. This is a pretty pathetic diary entry. I wonder if my mom ever knew how I missed her when she worked full time for that one year. haha! My mom is a VERY hard worker, but she’s a  super successful hairdresser who does not work full time. For a minute she did finance (Lucky! Who gets gifted with both sides of the brain?- numbers and creativity-jelz) where I guess she worked every night? Who knows.  Anyway, I guess this is when I got into writing.

When I went to college my first year… ya know, freshman year when I dropped $28,000 on a school to “go away” 40 min from home for one year just to fit in & keep up with the Jones’s—I was going to school for teaching (dah! Everyone does), but I really did like teaching. I worked in a preschool all through high school and started babysitting at 11. So, A. it came easy to me, B. The summers were off, and C. I didn’t mind kids. Sure sign me up. About halfway through I remember being at the gym with my mom and saying “Don’t be mad but I don’t want to be a teacher anymore. They have to wear ugly floral long skirts with cardigans all the time and it’s really just not my style. I want to be a fashion editor.”  She looked at me, slammed on the big red STOP button, took a deep breath in and walked off the treadmill and said she would meet me at the car. I don’t think my mother was happy about this choice, but it was my money (well the governments money) and she was always supportive, realistic, but supportive.  I transferred to county college to go to school for “business”  for year two and I started working at Clancy’s the local pub (where I met all my best friends and ended up working for 6 years and basically taught me everything I know about life), and started dating a guy where I ended up doing his own homework more than my own, stayed up late with my friends from the bar, drank too much (as 22 year olds do) and coasted through that year as much as I could. I decided business wasn’t for me because other than Business Law and English Comp 2, the rest of that year was a wash. “Time to transfer again! What will I do now?!” My third year I transferred to Rutgers to major in English and minor in Journalism… seems like this should have been the logical route to take in 2003, not 2 years, 4 semesters  and about 18 wasted credits later. This is why 18 year olds should not be allowed to make their own college choices! I graduated from RU in 2008 which is when I moved in with Nicole in Hoboken for a second (the crash of 08). I was following my dreams of writing for Vogue. I thought because I had a degree in it and my cousin worked for a celebrity hairstylist I would be a shoe-in.  Another dumb mistake I made at 22, thinking I deserved everything  & just because I actually finished school the world should bless me with a job making 100k a year the day I graduated. I of course did not become a fashion writer. People’s homes were being taken left and right, I really don’t think they were going to offer a 22 year old recent college graduate a job making 80k writing about shoes. So, of course I left because I was alone, waitressing, staying up too late, drinking too much and eating Pop Tarts to keep me alive. I also decided I was a cigarette smoker for a little while at this time. I remember getting done work, ordering wine and cigarettes to be delivered by the time I walked home from work (the delivery thing was so cool!). So I would come home, get jealous of what my friends in South Jersey were doing, prop myself up on the desk chair and watch reruns of old school Beverly Hills 90210 while I drank my wine, smoked my Parliament Lights and ate my strawberry Poptarts. Needless to say, not  a proud time in my life.

I of course moved back home 3 months later. I went BACK to school, because of course I was 22 and definitely not ready to start paying those loans back. And, what did I go back to school for?! Drumroll please… TO BE A TEACHER!!!!  As I am writing this I am shaking my head at myself and looking at my bank account in disapproval (especially because I sell insurance for a profession- which is good money by the way, better than a teacher that’s for sure & I actually love it; but good golly miss molly what a waste of a trillion dollars).The main idea of all of this was to say all-in-all I have always wanted to be a writer, no matter what stage of my life I was at, since I wrote my deepest darkest secrets about my first boyfriend Matt in my dairy (which I still have).

I was never a big reader which was weird considering I could write very well;  until I found the Twilight books in grad school. I always BSed my way through high school and undergrad by reading what I needed to in Sparks notes and writing a good paper- it worked! So now I love to read. Thank you Edward and Bella.

I find myself reading a lot of biographies nowadays. I love hearing about people’s lives and the messed up shit they go through because it makes me realize we are all doing our best every day to get through this crazy beautiful life. Some of my favorites are Tori Spelling: sTORI Telling—I know, I know, it’s Tori Spelling BUT I am a huge Bev Hills 90210 fan (flashback to 2008 drunken binge-marathon days) and actually writing is the best thing she does! She has decent style too, well used to, not much anymore. Her book is written very well and I loved hearing the stories of behind the scenes. I read the book the first time all the way through in 1 day. Then I read it again 3 more times later in life, along with her other 4 books too. Girl can write, I admire it. I liked Holly Madison’s book: Down the Rabbit Hole. I also read the little boy who claimed to have gone to heaven: Heaven is Real (I am very sad to find out that was bull- breaks my heart- still hoping though) and Proof of Heaven- the brain surgeon who didn’t believe in God but had a NDE and shared it- I don’t know if those are real but I am hopeful. I read Tucker max’s books- not my proudest point in my life but he’s funny as shit. And now he’s married with a baby so I feel better about my life, and his.

My two favorites are Leah Remini: Troublemaker and Jenny Mollen: I like You the Way I Am. These are the two most recent “novels” (haha hardly) I have finished (I am currently reading White Girl Problems by Babe Walker which is also very good so far). The reason I loved both of these ladies’ writing is because of how raw and real they are. I am from South Jersey; you know that, people from South Jersey don’t keep shit in. We let it out! We don’t sugar coat anything and when I moved to Florida, there are more people than not that really appreciate that. There are a couple dudes who are totally intimidated by it and think it’s “mean”. These are the guys born and raised in Florida and have never had to deal with a real woman with a real opinion. Grow a pair, it’s pathetic.

Rimini’s book is about her time in Scientology- holy shit! Those people are nuts! Her book is written very well, she is completely straight out of New York and I loved every minute of it. I love when people are real, and don’t give a flying _____ about anyone that has anything to say about it—take that Tom Cruise!image

Mollen’s book is about how women are crazy and we need to embrace it. I love her. I literally want to live inside of one of her brain crevasses because the shit this girl does is amazingly ridiculous and I want to be her best friend. Speaking of best friends, she becomes best friends with her husband’s ex just because she wants everyone to love and accept her. She drags her best friend down the street halfway hanging out of a car after she set  her up by having her husband ask for some um.. Pleasure.. to make sure the friend was trust worthy. I mean the Psycho stories go on and on and I loved every second of it!image

These two books inspired me to go after my dream of being a writer. And while I cannot afford to quit my job and be a full time fashion blogger while drinking wine and sunning my bod, I am hoping one day the opportunity will present itself and I want to be ready. I don’t want to be stale and rusty. I love realism. Be straight. And thank you to the writers that I admire for inspiring me; on a side note, I have read real books i.e. Virginia Woofe novels, Beowulf and all those boring, “I’m reading this while sleeping at the sametime”, Brit Lit books I had to read in college; but the last time a fictional novel kept my attention was 2005 Candice Bushnell’s Trading Up; it’s 2016 you do the math….

Have a great weekend everyone, I’ll be moving for the 4th time in 3 years… More on that next week 😏

🍾 XOXO Cheers 🍾


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Jersey girl in a southern world ☀️ fashion 👗 health & fitness 🏃🏼 beauty 💄 love 💗

2 thoughts on “Blogger Bound 💻📝

  1. *i should really be cleaning but meh* – Omg I remember keeping a diary, back in the 90’s, getting hot and flustered if people were rummiaging around my “hidyhole” Since under the bed was a no safe zone for my precious secrets – gah how simple life was back then.


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