In the spirit of Halloween, spooks, and horror, let’s talk about one of the most frightening things to ever happen to our generation– internships.

Conde Nast announced last week that their internship program will be ending after being sued by a series of former interns. Naturally, it blew up on Twitter and upset all the aspiring Carrie Bradshaw’s out there. It’s unfortunate, but in my opinion, the interns should have asked for secure jobs instead of suing them. *WINK*

A ubiquitous complaint among college students is the eagerness to graduate and get out there. What’s so special about rushing into “real life” anyway? It’s a classic case of the “grass is greener on the other side of the…diploma.” It all seems better when we trade the sweatpants for dress suits and our dignity for minimum wage. Internships are a great preview into that lifestyle. But just like our first time at summer camp, we want to go home after two days.

Internships are indeed valuable. It’s a great source of experience and enough labor to know that that is not what you want to do for the rest of your life. So to relieve the stress of looking for internships or currently having one, I’ve compiled a list of things to do in between answering phone calls.

(Note: the following advice is coming from someone who cried and quit her first job as a babysitter after one day)


  • Use your free time to think about all your life’s mistakes and regrets
  • You could be laying in bed watching New Girl, so instead, write your own plotlines
  • Over-analyze the text that you just sent to your potentially significant other
  • Eavesdrop on the conversations behind you because they could be the storyline to your hit HBO series
  • Talk to everyone…who is willing to speak with you like you aren’t an “unpaid intern”
  • Realize that your hero in life (Beyonce) released her hit song, Baby Boy, when she was 21

And remember, millions of girls would kill to have your dress suit.





pinocchioLying is great. Obviously, it didn’t turn out too well with the lady who swallowed the horse, but other than her situation, lying is fun…in the moment. I do, however, feel about lying the way I feel about hats. They may work for other people, but I just can’t pull them off.

It was Sunday, and it is a time to celebrate brunch and a contest to see who can stay in their pajamas the longest. While I was scheduled to be somewhere, I opted out, taking one arrow (white lie) out of my quiver and get out of this “engagement” by saying that I had a “previously schedule engagement,” which is obviously rewatching last night’s episode of Saturday Night Live while wiping the Reddi Whip off my mouth. With my Sunday routine already in progress, I figure that it was an Instagram moment– you know that moment when the sun hits your window in the right spot and you realize that you are a product of technology, so you snap a pic in Lo-Fi.

On some level, I agree with what our parents are telling us, that social media is making us more disconnected and less empathetic. We’ve heard what you had to say, Louis C.K., one of today’s most successful and critically-acclaimed comedians, we get it. If we are to get anything positive as a society from social networking, it is catching lies. Lying is as popular as the puppies you see on the popular page of Instagram. Tweeting your flu symptoms or Vining your #OOTD is just a reflex, but your social network has become a time capsule for everything.

You do not need a lie detector, you need to login to Facebook.

So when the person you cancelled a meeting with “likes” the Instagram you took of yourself with whipped cream all over your face, it just means that you have become a more honest human being.


P.S. Little did I know, after writing this post, I found a TED Talk explaining precisely what I’m getting at…in a way that I’ll never accomplish…because of course, it’s a TED Talk.



Being called a “teacher’s pet” or “suck up” for the majority of one’s life can lead to the inevitable demise of such connotations. On my journey to exchange my pastel variety of Lacoste polos for leather pants, I knew I was missing something.

Last month, I bought my inaugural pair of Doc’s, an experience every Brooklyn native has probably gone through. Having gone to an all-girls school that required us to wear construction boots reminiscent of the Spice Girls, stomping around in large shoes was a familiar adventure. Soon after, Ms. Miley debuts a new music video notoriously wearing nothing but my Doc’s that I thought would be my induction into my new age of Punk Renaissance. Then much to my dismay, my classmate turned to me and asked what color my Doc Martens were because she wanted to “buy herself a pair.”

I’ve only taken one Sociology class and it will probably stay that way. And while I probably will not and could not remember how Goffman or Mead contributed to the study of something or other, I do know that there is a human and natural need to belong. I’ve already examined the culty nature of SoulCycle, but of course the reason we all still go there or to the gym is not to just “be fit,” right? We just need to belong somewhere. It’s obviously a theme that I’ve been exploring lately.

During my weekly visit to Facebook, I have discovered through NewsFeed (if that’s what it’s still called) that BBM is apparently on the iPhone now. A few of my Facebook “friends” complained about people sharing their new BBM Pin because they just want to copy everyone else who is using it. Yes, this is something that is literally “discussed” on Facebook. Maybe it’s because I didn’t understand what irony was until my sophomore year of high school but it is the only thing that I log on to Facebook for. And while we complain about women being Photoshopped for magazines, we admittedly take one hour to choose what Instagram filter makes us look best.

It’s hard to know who to admire and who’s a phony, except for Holden Caulfield. Remember Dash from The Incredibles? When his mom tells him that everyone is special, he responds with typical Pixar wit, “Which is another way of saying no one is.”

The only people I admire are those who stay in their “outside clothes” inside their house. I mean, really, if changing your shoes and removing your bra are not the first things you do when you get home, then I will assume you are Superman.

As for the color of my Doc’s, they’re 1460 Cherry Red.




A lot of people ask me why I am studying Journalism, which some might argue is a “lost cause” (THANKS A LOT, CNN). After three years of taking classes and twenty years of never closing my mouth, I think I finally have an answer. Being a journalist is just a good excuse for talking to people who I never normally would approach. And though it takes a great listener (and a good Moleskine) to be a journalist and writer, I will manage to find a way to talk about myself. Then if no one cares to listen, I resort to Twitter, where RT’s and Favorites are basically applause. Thanks to Mindy Kaling, I think I can finally steer every conversation towards me.

I have no doubt that conversation is an art. And not “my 3-year-old kid can do that” type of art. My dad gave me a book in high school called The Art of Conversation, when I probably needed a book called, How To Stop Talking Because There Are Other People, You Selfish B*tch. I have encountered “foot in mouth” syndrome along the way, but I’ve learned to add more to the list of conversational taboo.

SoulCycle: Move over, Scientology. The culty, trendy bikers at SoulCycle are taking the lead in controversy. It’s the church where “Sunday’s best” means LuluLemon, and wine is replaced with SmartWater and the instructor’s sweat. I have compared my best friend to a Mormon missionary working for the gods of SoulCycle, while I am simply the one who goes on Easter and Christmas. Months ago after taking my first class and self-indulgently posting about it on Facebook, one of my “friends” immediately makes a New Yorker-worthy status cynically shooting down SoulCycle. In a victorious turn of events, I got more “likes.” Then somehow, SoulCycle has managed to find itself in the middle of a conversation again, which is no surprise in Brooklyn. I was speaking with someone whose friend had just quit teaching at The New School to be a SoulCycle Instructor. I tread lightly on the subject, unsure where my conversational partner stood on the issue, realizing the polarization between cyclists and bikers and everyone else. But at least they can just brush off haters with their killer calves.

Flashdance: Late Friday night, I was in the middle of a conversation I never thought I would have. Three others, who were in their late 20’s and early 30’s, started talking about Flashdance. I am a person who only watches political debates in the event one candidate makes a pop culture reference. Here I am, too young to be having a conversation about a movie that came out in 1983, ten years before I was born? This can’t be happening. I made a comment about banana clips, just after googling what they were. Some people have not watched Flashdance, therefore should not be mentioned in a conversation. This can also be applied to Star Wars: Return of the Jedi— yes, another movie I have yet to watch.

Journalism with a capital J: Tom Wolfe would be rolling in his grave if he read the tweets of The Huffington Post. Oh, he’s still alive? Then send him a link to my blog. I was attending an event for High School Journalism students when the MC asked the audience for a joke– I think I was a bit too loud when I responded with, “Ha! Journalism.” If CNN now has to keep reminding the audience (and itself) that “This is CNN,” then maybe we may be losing the point of being The Fourth Estate. As naive as it may sound, I still believe that the next Woodward & Bernstein are somewhere out there…but they’re probably too busy updating their blog and Tumblr.


P.S. What’s on your list of conversational taboo?


Alas, it’s October– the month that Lindsay Lohan’s movie characters are obviously obsessed withOctober 11th

After a long week of writing papers and dealing with people, Friday night is for letting it all out. And by “letting it all out,” I mean staying in under the blankets and watching teen movies from the 90’s that were all adapted from Shakespeare/Jane Austen/Greek myths. It was like the 90’s were a post-John Hughes era when producers were looking for stories that teens could eat up. Well, it worked. English teachers don’t mind it either, especially since iambic pentameter may be too cumbersome to translate, when Amanda Bynes could do it for you (when she was still able to).

So when deadlines are getting you down and being “under the weather” sounds like a good excuse, here is a list of my favorite things to do in the fall:

  1. Sweatpants. Sorry, Karl Lagerfeld.

  2. Complaining about Target putting out Christmas decorations

  3. Buying more bulky sweaters so you can eat more

  4. Rookie Yearbook 2!

  5. Being so congested that you can’t hear what anybody is ever saying

  6. Not having to time to update your blog because your professors don’t realize your priorities. I’ll be back, lovelies.