Let’s Talk About Your Generation


I expected bells, streamers and naked dancers to expel from the rafters while I stood in awe of the future, took long yogi breaths, and waited for the realization of this accomplishment to sink in.

I would have also accepted a spontaneous, synchronized dance sequence from the faculty in Student Life.

Instead, I had to pay a $230 fine.


Where the hell was Ann Perkins?  I needed a victory dance!

This whole college bit has been a longer road than expected.  I left a full paid scholarship at LSU for life as a hipster hairdresser, and now $32,000 later (mostly in UC parking tickets)…

I’m almost dancing, bitches!  With or without those rafter whores.

The funny thing about this whole approach of graduation is that I’ve suddenly become scared.  And I don’t mean scared like R. Kelly is hiding in my closest.  I mean scared in the sense that…


So in a weird, twisted attempt not to send my life to the bottomless pit that is student debt and jobless twenty-somethings with passion, vision and no grit…. I do nothing.  And I do mean NOTHING.  I’ve let deadlines for applications pass without warning, I’ve stopped looking into grad school programs, and I’ve nearly convinced myself that I might be able to accept a B this semester.  Justly knowing I will hate myself for this all come Fall 2015.

I’ve also stopped color coordinating my closet and left my coffee habit for matcha powder. 


WHO AM I?  I want Cap back.  The trouble is I’m not sure how I’ve lost her, and it’s really quite hard to find something when you aren’t sure when or how you went about losing it.  Over Summer break, my mother said I wasn’t the same girl she remembered.  She meant it as a complement, but it rang true in so many other aspects.

Which brings me to my random, social media prompt of the day…

Who invented Time Hop?  I hate them.

Here’s why:

The more I read about the person I used to be – the more I cannot connect to her.  Is it possible to change that much?  To have all of your beliefs shifted.  To have your very being questioned? Two years in Time Hop time may be nothing, but it feels like light years.

And why does this all hunt me when I’m meant to be full speed ahead?

I’m not sure I want the old Cap back entirely, but if I can’t have her – I’d like to at least know where this new bitch fits in.

So, here’s to me getting it together.

Here’s to graduation, and May, and songs sung in unison, and whichever
aspects of Cap that lay ahead!