To my dear-dear professor; The life and times of a 20 something

The year 2014, what a glorious a terminal year. Almost six months in and it has seen a lot of joy, woe, adventure, and heartbreak. Being a young woman in this generation seems to be an obstacle course with death being the finish line. That sounds morbid, but also very similar to the description of life. We seem to have more missiles aimed our heads compared to our parents generation.

Turning 21 in only a few short weeks brings more dread than excitement. The pressure to be a responsible adult during a time period where living off your parents until your late 20s accompanied with mountains of school debt is considered the norm OR being a teen mom stuck in your same hometown for the rest of your life is the other option. The future doesn’t look overly bright for children of the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. We’re held to the same expectation of every teen moving into adult hood, but for us, there is so much more pushing and holding us back.

It is the summer before my senior year of college. I am a Broadcasting and Digital Media Major at the University of Idaho. With a lack of surprise of my own, my mass media professor was in absolute hysterics when she learned that I did not have my own personal blog. Of course I am no insolent fool.  I much prefer my internet time indulging on countless hours of pinning ( , reblogging gifs and images on tumblr  (,  and partaking in the infinite scrolling that is my facebook news feed and instagram home feed ( But, with a perfect score in all my writing and journalism class Professor Hart would not stand for such impertinence on my part. So dun-dun-dun-DUN! Summer homework in the form of a personal blog. I’m aware that could be A LOT worse. I could actually have to take summer courses.

Because I know that my dear Mrs. Hart will probably be stocking this and unconsciously grading me with zero hope for myself in obtaining any type of credit. I first and foremost would like to brown nose and say, I love you Mrs. Hart and I am heart broken to not be in your AMST230 class for fall semester.

Now I will by no means be going all Jenna Hamilton for this blog. Virtual diaries can remain in 2001 on Myspace. But, as I like to think my interests diverse, I feel that this blog should reflect that.


Want to talk books? YA and classics are my nitch. Make up? You don’t become a Sephora VIB for free. Clothes? It’s so good to be back in the same town with a Nordstorms. Fandom? Doctor Who, Buff, Star Trek, GOT, PJO, HP, LOTR, Supernatural. I’m aware I have a problem. Music? HELLO! I’m from Seattle and go to school in Idaho. I can cover everything from Metal to Country, and sing (or scream) you every line. Movies? Focusing on Film production for Broadcasting means you get to watch A LOT of movies in class. Comics? I’ll probably always choose Marvel over DC, with Dark horse in a close third.


Excuse me while I stick the heel of my TOMS firmly in the Seattle mud; I am not someone looking forward to a life of independence, bills, deposits, credit card statements, and responsible decisions.

As my dad clearly stated today, “you’re too old to be allowed into Neverland.” This may seem like the quack and crazy thing someone who had escaped their straight jacked would say. Which my father probably did…but they statement rang a lot of truth.

Four weeks shy of turning 21 year old, I am sitting in this awkward state of life. The expectation and responsibility are anticipated, but the actual outcome isn’t so immaculate. I basically can’t afford to be alive. Thanks to our education system, my family cant afford to pay for me to go to college, but the government has decided ya actually they should. So I am granted ZERO money for school. Along with the amazing fact that because of the amount of money my mom makes I’m unable to receive money in loans as well. Not only is that complete bullshit, and in actuality my parents are basically poor running a household of 4. I’m unable to get the assistance I need in order to be an ‘adult’.

Can I blame Obama? Mine as well. My generation has been f**ked by the government by all 220 positions in The Complete Karma Sutra book.

I’m financially dependent on my parent’s income and credit until the age of 25. WTF. I guess this generation is a production of Fake Adults.

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