This isn’t a sad, whining blog post, because those are going to stay where they belong… on my Xanga, circa 2003.

This is a post about some things I’ve been struggling with the past couple of weeks, personally and professionally. I wanted to write about it because it’s been on my mind, and I know for a fact that everyone and their mother experiences the same thing, once in awhile.

For 18 years of my life, I grew up with a mother, a father, and a brother. My dad was a doctor, my mom was a lawyer, my brother and I went to a great school, and it was pretty much suburban bliss. My parents were married for years and years, and they still had regular “date nights” like two high schoolers. My friends always asked me what it was like to have parents who were so visibly in love.

If you aren’t a dog person, I’m sure you’re really sick of hearing about Henry.

Even if you are a dog person, I still bet you’re beginning to lose interest. I just adore everything about him. We’ve had him for two weeks, and I already can’t remember how I lived without him. I’ve posted nothing but rainbows & butterflies since the Sunday that we signed his adoption papers, but I purposely left out a little something that happened that almost changed everything.

As you might’ve learned from this blog (or seen on my social media or heard me talk about in person- sorry!) I decided to leave the 9-to-5 world and start freelance writing full-time. After spending the three years after college working office jobs and spending almost two hours commuting in Chicago traffic daily, the transition to work-from-home Californian was eye-opening, to say the least.

If you follow me on Instagram, you probably know I’m a big fan of inspirational quotes. If you somehow got a glance at my iPhone camera roll, you’d find out that I’m actually obsessive. Maybe it’s the English major in me– or maybe it’s just the sap– but I love the feeling of stumbling over a perfect, succinct quote that seems like it was written just for my current mood, just for that exact moment. Bombard me with the sarcastic, “Wow, v deep” and “~inspirational~” comments all ya want, I’m gonna keep posting them.

           I figured I would get that that #Too out of the way, because apparently that omission has caused a lot of confusion. #BlackLivesMatterTOO. If you can’t understand why this is not a time to assert that all lives matter, then you can click here and come back to my blog later, if you’d like.

When I was in first grade, I wrote a riveting novel called The Magic Cat. It starred me, my two best friends, and my family, and it was a real page-turner. I scribbled in my notebook feverishly every day after school until I decided, finally, I had finished my masterpiece. I was eager to share my brilliant story, and told everyone that I was going to be an author one day. Then, like with most prepubescent career ambitions, I got distracted by another shiny idea.