Thursday, July 24, 2014

Warby Parker: Beacon Collection

   It all began in 4th grade. Mrs. K wrote an arithmetic problem on the blackboard, and the entire class dutifully began copying down the equation, while I blankly stared. Not blankly staring in the usual, "What the hell is an uncommon denominator?" sort of way. No, it was more of a, "I BLIND NOW! Mom was so right about too much Nintendo!". And so the eyeglass prescriptions started. (P.S. I would never say "hell" back in 4th grade. Private school).

   As a 10 year old, I could hardly wait until "four eyes" were replaced by "acuvue." If only Warby Parker had been around during those formative years. Ugh. My class pictures would've been so much cuter! 

   That's why I'm writing today about WP's newest eyewear collection.
You guys. Please please please. When it comes to your eyes: Choose cute. 
{The Beacon Collection} is a perfect place to start. It's New York City meets Summer 2014 meets Up all Night on a Rooftop meets Late Morning Brunch meets Oh My Gosh I Want All The Glasses! (Literally. That's pretty much what I do whenever I'm in NYC. And it's glorious)

And per usual Warby Parker fashion, "Buy a Pair, Give a Pair." 

{Note: This is not a paid/sponsored post. I was contacted by WP to do a write-up and decided to do it, mainly as a reminder to schedule an eye exam at Costco. THEN I can order a new pair of glasses. Probably, from WP. Maybe the Into the Gloss 10-02 . Blogger Disclaimer, Out!)

{Bon Bon}

Thursday, July 17, 2014

The Ultimate Good Skin Guide

   I was out running some errands the other day, (in 90+ degree weather), out running around wearing my husband's tank top and 2-day old unwashed hair. Just not my best look, mind you. Somehow, I had THREE strangers compliment me on my appearance. Specifically, my skin's appearance. I'll take it! 

   It reminded me that I am extremely thankful for good skin genes, even though the journey has been somewhat bumpy during the last 6 years. #skinpunintended

   International travel/living, nutrition, jobs, moving, getting married, having a baby, seasonal changes, stress, hormones, etc. made one crazy skin year in particular, (2008) turn into the new normal for me: combination-sensitive type adult skin! I went from maybe three pimples in my entire life, to a three new pimples every day kind of life! I literally tried everything in Target, Walgreens, and Sephora. E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G. From low-end to high-end to homemade. 
   Looking back on that time, it seems quite frivolous and vain, yeah, but I learned things I never knew about skincare, (like, don't slather your whole face with salicylic acid and think you're fighting a breakout), and the human body, (like, do drink so much water daily that you have to pee at least, oh, every 2 hours). It was my segue into a more natural lifestyle and a sincere appreciation for the old adage "Beauty is only skin deep", and for that I am thankful. Here are my most favorite tried and true products, (for the sake of convenience, I'll keep the suuuuuper all-natural homemade stuff at bay, for now). 

1//Nubian Heritage (truthfully, this is THE only item you need for your face if you have some tricky skin issues. I've told so many friends about this product it feels like I work for the company. If you buy it, you won't need an additional scrub or cleanser. This stuff is strong!)
2//Shea Moisture (similar product, found in most main retailers)
3//Camamu Black Beauty Bar (similar product, locally made here in Portland. 

1//Giovanni D:tox Purifying Facial Scrub (Very gentle scrub. Charcoal and ash are great for fighting problem skin.
2//Boscia Oil Free Daily Hydration (A little spendy, but this helped calm my skin down and protect it from irritations during the day. If you want to save $, Cetaphil is an alternative option) 
3//Proactiv Refining Mask (Used as spot treatment, lasts forever. Seriously will zap a pimple overnight)

1// Apple Cider Vinegar (diluted w/ water and used as facial toner and/or to drink!)
2//MyChelle Fruit Enzyme Cleanser (+ check out the White Cranberry Cleanser)
3//MyChelle Fruit Enzyme Mist (I always have a bottle of this on my shelf. A spritz nightly, daily, every once in awhile, with or without makeup, it's SOOO good. Cannot rave enough about this mist)

//Skin79 BB Cleanser (makeup remover, cleanser, and insane Asian science stuff! I've never used anything like it before. All I can say is, "It will eat the makeup off of your face.")
//Trader Joe's Coconut Oil (great for taking off pesky eye makeup, amongst many other uses)

//Trader Joe's Face Wash (recently switched to this after using my Nubian soap religiously for the past three years. Needed something a little more gentle this summer)
//Boots Botanics Facial Oil (new holy grail product! I've also used Josie Maran Argan Oil and Estee Lauder Advanced Night Repair, cha$ching$. This $8.99 Target splurge blows 'em outta the water! I think it smells/looks just as luxurious too)
//Clinique Turnaround Overnight Moisturizer (Gives my face a little "oomph" during the night. Wake up to a fresh, dewey, and bright face in the morning. I just finished my 2nd bottle, but that Boots facial oil is kind of doing the trick now...I'll probably switch to CeraVe PM Moisturizer and save some $$$)

//Eco Tools Facial Sponge w/ face wash (sometimes just a splash of cold water in the morning)
//CeraVe AM Facial Moisturizer (simple and effective. Provides a nice foundation for your

//MyChelle Dermaceuticals Fruit Fiesta Peel (+ check out the Incredible Pumpkin Peel. Amazing!)
//Herbivore Pink Clay Mask (For soft and pretty skin. And that fancy spa feeling)
//Skin79 Snail Nutrition Hydro Gel Mask (Yup. Snails are all the rage right now in Asian beauty. This is one of my favorite sheet masks, and if you've never tried a sheet mask, well then, enter the rabbit hole HERE)

Wishes and happy skin compliments to you all! 

{Bon Bon}

Monday, July 7, 2014


{Ceago Vinegarden}

   Hours upon hours upon hours in a car down the dusty stretch of I-5, and oh boy it is always worth it. (Pro Road Trip Tip: ALWAYS always stop at the Starbucks adjoined with the Barnes & Noble. Large Passion Tea plus a train table. Easy hour of leg stretching and fighting with the locals over who gets to play with Cranky the Crane).

   This was our 3rd trip down to Lake County, California (Clear Lake), since me and the Bean officially joined "the family," respectively. I could rave on and on about the weather, food, wine, family, friends, and festivities, but then you might want to join us, and their simply isn't enough room. A legit guest waiting-list of sorts is happening right now in hopes of snagging a bed, couch, or bathtub next time. Everyone is getting married and having kids and being all grown-up and responsible and what's up with that?
   We might have to completely embrace our Portland citizenship and build a tiny-house to take with us next year. The homemade Mai Tais topped with honey-lilikoi foam are worth it, believe you me.

 *photos via us IGers: bonifus/taryncutchin

{until next time}

P.S. Check out David James Visuals for a boatload of Ceago Vinegarden photos! Pun intended! 


{Bon Bon}

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

I've Always Been a Tattletale

What has two, going on three years of this whole parenting thing turned me into? (not to mention the previous years spent babysitting and nannying, plus the prior years when I WAS the kid) Well, it makes me a professional playground aficionado. I know, big dreams people, big dreams.

Parks and play spaces-places-and areas oh my, I've been there done that, about a thousand times give or take. You always have a motley group of people at these family-friendly hot spots. These venues being, the general public, and all. Moms, dads, grandparents, nannies, whatever. Today, I want to talk about the three types of children you will inevitably encounter at the top, middle, or bottom of any given slide. 

#1. The supremely nice, sweet, and helpful child. Usually older, they will gravitate towards the younger toddlers in need of a helping hand. "Watch this, little one! Let me help you!" "Here, do you want to play with this?" "LEARN FROM ME!" You'll think to yourself, "Wait, did I miss the chapter where God sends his Son down to earth again?" They are actually that perfectly angelic. 

#2. The bully. Maybe they've fallen off of the tire swing a few too many times and thus must ruin every playground experience for every human they run into face to face. I always think maybe they're just "hangry." It always begins with a stare down, searching for their prey, and it always ends in a shove to the ground. His mother will appear with an admonishing, "You say sorry! Say sorry right now, Patrick Bateman!" 

#3. The bully...without...any...parental...supervision. They push, kick, shove, and take all day long. They live by the Outback restaurant slogan, "No rules, Just Right!" It's every child for themselves, literally. You give them the benefit of the doubt, "Oh you poor thing! No parents at all? Raised by a pack of Australian dingoes, tsk tsk. Here's a granola bar, please don't bite me."

Hashtag Note: Kids will be kids, boys will be boys (girls will be girls?), YOLO. I understand the general learning curve with sharing toys, taking turns, screaming, hitting, pushing, all the stuff that comes along with children learning how to be (hopefully) civilized (hopefully) #1 type adults. Kids are messy, loud, demanding, and misbehaving. I know, cause I have one, (and acknowledge that I have one). I'm actively trying to encourage him away from being a messy, loud, demanding, misbehaving adult.
I'm at the playground, usually drinking an iced Kicker from Dutch Bros, occasionally checking my phone (probably, counting down the time), talking with another parent, sitting, standing, or swinging. Always watching. I am always watching. My mothering type can be summed up in that Celine Dion song, "Near, far, wherever you are!" I may not be right by your side, but Josiah James, I know that you're on the other side of that picnic table thinking about picking up a dirty Mickey Mouse bandaid. And I will stop you, because I'm somehow watching you, (with my actual eyeballs, not the ones they say are in the back of my head).

For some parents, they think a play area means, "All this fun stuff is here so my kid is gonna have fun fun fun and be the funnest fun ever and fun! See you in two hours, come find me if you're bleeding. Never mind, just pick up that bandaid over there on the picnic table, but ONLY if you need it! Responsibility!" What their kid actually hears, "blah blah blah RELEASE THE KRAKEN!!! THERE WILL BE BLOOD blah blah blah! HAVE FUN, WHATEVER FUN MEANS TO YOU, YOU HAVE IT!"
They think a playground equals a public school education. "Here ye shall enter mid-morning, just a child, and in six hours time, shall emerge polite, refined, and one day closer to Harvard!"
These are the UN of parents. There will be peace, harmony, and someone else can always step in and handle it.

I don't want to step in and handle your feral cat-child-it. I'm over here trying to wrangle a two year old who's main mantra in life right now is, "What Would Curious George Do?" Inevitably, our two animal children will meet ever so briefly over by the sand pit whereupon yours shoves mine, for no reason at all. I can understand self-defense or if my son said you looked fat in those pants, but I'm pretty sure I saw none of that. Ya know. Cause I was watching, and he's only a two year old boy trying to show off his new hot wheels car. Here we go again. I, the lone adult in the situation, will pick up my crying toddler while yours scampers off into the bushes, hissing, "My preciousssssss!"

The last time I pushed someone was during recess in 2nd grade. Brandon. I pushed him off the swing after he stole it from me and said, "Sorry, babe." Of course, he totally deserved it. He cried, and I felt kinda bad and then Ms. Watson our recess monitor found out and I felt actually detention. My bullying days began and ended that day. A fleeting attempt, at best. I wonder though, if no authority had discovered my thirst for vengeance, would I still be pushing male chauvinists off of swing sets today? I mean, they totally deserve it.


The other morning at JJ Jump, we were stuck with a dreaded #3. A dreaded numero tres in the confines of a bouncy house. I'm not getting paid enough for this. My son would pick up a ball and across the room she hopped to steal it away and then body slam him to the floor AND then laugh maniacally. At first, I was all, "Haha! You silly rabbit! Be careful!" After the seventh purposeful attack though, I really wanted to say, "HEY! Leave my kid alone! By the way, there's no Santa Clause, it's just your parents. Wherever they are."
Eventually, Josiah was terrified of her and would leap into my arms for safety every time she even so much as glanced at him. (After she didn't listen to him while he wagged his finger saying, "No no no! I don't like that! Be nice.")

My optimism slowly faded.

"Maybe she's trying to play with you?
"Basketball? She's definitely trying to play basketball?
"Krav Maga?"
"How about you go grab the other ball?"
"How about the other other ball?"
"Let's just play in this corner."
"Ok. Let's just play in that corner."
"Tell her, 'No pushing please!'"
"Forget the please, forget the please, just say NO!"
"Son, sometimes bad things happen to good people..."
"With great power comes great responsibility."
"Yep, she's just the spawn of satan, I mean, a #3."

Eventually, eventually! her father comes over to check on how things are going. Oh, so the devil does wear hawaiian shirts and white socks with Birkenstocks. As he scans the aftermath of her bouncy house reign of terror, "Having fun, princess?" He looks at the battered children emerging from their hiding places, and I swear he says, "Looks like things are getting rough in there! Keep having funnnnnn!" Then...he...disappears. Before I can say, "Princess? C'mon, you mean, Sith Lord Darth Revan, right?" *mic drop*

He has vanished. Presumably back to his Iron Throne, while the battlefield action on air resumes.

Right on cue, the heavens part and a #1 floats over to the group of cowering two year olds. Extending a tie dyed rubber ball peacefully to my son, she says, "Here you go! Can you try and catch it?"

Our savior has arrived, wearing a Hello Kitty shirt nonetheless.

All is well in Playground Kingdom once more.
Until, tomorrow.


{Bon Bon}

Thursday, May 8, 2014

My 10 Moms

(Originally written September 2011. Two months before Bean arrived!)

As my stomach swells more and more each day, I'm reminded that this whole kid thing is really real.


I'm going to be a mom.
Moments of euphoria and sheer panic usually follow.

What do I know about being a mother? (When I was eight, I had a goldfish for a week and within that time frame, forgot I had a past caretaker forays have been subpar at best)

Let's rewind even more for a minute.
{yes. that would be my rewind sound effect}


In 1988, a man and a woman had a baby. A baby they knew had to live with another family in order to be loved.
In 1988, another man and a woman prayed for a baby. A baby they knew they had plenty of love to give. 

Hooray! That baby was me. Is me. Was me? Officially adopted at 6 months.(I looked just like that little guy up there. I know cause I've seen the ONE photo I have of me at that age. All you second children of the 80s know what I'm talking about)

Remember, life has a way of getting really real though.
Cue those moments of euphoria and sheer panic.

In 1999, my mom passed away, completely out of the blue.
With just little ol' me in a houseful of boys, many other women in my life stepped in to help.
Even the manliest of men shudder at the thought of going at it alone into the world of training bras, periods, and the birds and bees with an 11 year old daughter.
P.S. My Dad is my hero.

So, my aunts, grandma, and best friends' moms soon became chauffeurs, cooks, and fashion consultants.

They saved me from some awkward months of mismatched clothes and egg and cheese burritos for dinner 5x per week.

Note: My Dad's egg and cheese burritos are seriously still one of my favorite things in this world.

They also saved my Dad from the dreaded puberty talk.
Thanks Aunt Mars.
I will never forget that beach trip, you sly fox, you. 
"Oh, on the way, let's listen to this tape I to bring." 

Then, my Dad got his smile back.
He began laughing again.

Her name is Rachael.

And they recently celebrated their 10 year anniversary.


So, back to me. Preparing to be someone's mom.

I've had a mom who couldn't keep me.
and a mom who had to leave me.

I now have a mom who needed me as much as I needed her. 

Confused yet?

Perhaps I've learned grace.

A beautiful goodness that shines a light in any of those dark complicatedly confusing places.

I think Baby Bean and I will be just fine.


{Bon Bon}

Sunday, April 27, 2014

I Write My Own Rx

Things are about to get real REAL up in here, more specifically,


Ok, I'll just come out and say it. Last week I experienced my 1st (and hopefully last) UTI.
There is no cute Pinterest way in sharing that.
Just like most not-cute experiences in my life thus far, it has provided me with a newfound appreciation for the finer things in life. Now that I've "lived" in Africa and now that I've "lived" this infection, both running water and healthy pee are on the top of my finer things in life category. I'm a cheap date. 

Friday-Sunday I googled, read, and texted about all things urinary tract related. Riveting stuff.
I also watched a Netflix queue-load of "Pretty Little Liars" in between bathroom breaks and bubble baths, (without the bubbles). I also spent an hour searching for the nearest cranberry bog to sit in, for the rest of my life. If Ocean Spray needs a new spokesmodel, call me. 

I'll be honest though, there was a doctor prescribed antibiotic pack sitting on my nightstand by Monday evening. After a weird flash of odd symptoms, those little pills became my backup plan. Kinda like when I used the birthing center across from the big box hospital. Backup plan. Dot my i's and cross my t's. Seems to put me at ease.

Then I take pill #1 and I'm reminded why I don't take pill #2.


 Azythromycin gives me a rash. Found that out about 10 years ago, when I took my last round of antibiotics for an ear infection. It was around the time that "meningitis" was all over the media, so, there I am sitting on the couch, home alone, watching a news special as my skin starts turning purple. Yay. 

"You should've used garlic oil, zaps it right away," says one of my classmates after I finally venture back to school. 

This isn't only a me thing either, and I am not a dramatic-hypochondriac-world-is-out-to-get-me kind of person. I hypnobirthed a child for goodness' sake and broke my pinkie playing leap frog in the 3rd grade and didn't tell anyone. I know that I'm kind of a big deal, but I won't tell you about it. My husband has been through multiple rounds of antibiotics for severe allergic reactions to poison oak, of which, he has had lasting effects from, including joint pain, headaches, and skin sensitivity. Four years ago, a doctor hastily prescribed antibiotics, epi pen, inhaler, the works for Daniel's random bout with impetigo. Maybe, impetigo. Possibly a mango rind allergy. 

Maybe I read too many "Encyclopedia Brown" books or watched "The Great Mouse Detective" too many times, because medical mysteries fascinate me. 

I also use to babysit the children of a major pharmaceutical's sales rep, so, I practically hold an honorary doctorate degree. 

My husband's medical-ness fascinates me, (as well as everything else about him, awwww). 
And this visit started it all. 

"I've researched the connection between mango rinds and poison oak, they appear to be in the same family. This is just something topical, contact dermatitis. Also, he recently had Chinese food, maybe with cashews in it? There's a connection too, and..." 

"No, no, this is definitely not that. Was his throat closing up?"

"No. Just a skin reaction..."

"Well, it'll probably happen next time. Here take this, and this, and this..."

Not only $CHA-CHING$, but we left more confused than before. A quick fix and it was on to the next number, I mean, person. 

The medicine did seem to work...until the infection instantly came back, on his skin. I busted out the colloidal silver and grapefruit seed extract. Gone. Hasn't been back since. Just sayin'. 


Monday night, I'm sitting in the ER for the first time in a decade waiting upon waiting plus waiting times some more waiting, to figure out what is up. Daniel looks around the room, little kids wrapped in blankets, elderly lady with an oxygen tank, crying teenager in her wheelchair. "I feel like I'm getting sick," he whispers. We are kind of a pitiful bunch, watching the clock tick through the fluorescent haze. Two hours drag by and I need to lay down. Sip cold water. Head to the bathroom. Repeat. "I feel like I'm getting more sick," I moan. 

The check-in nurse steps into view, everyone anxiously snaps to attention. 
"Oh, Bonnie!" There you are. Come on down."

I feel like the winner on the Price is Right! I will have my pet sprayed or neutered, just let me win some health!

Twelve minutes later, we're back in the car with two prescriptions and a pamphlet on urinary tract infections. "Most can be cured at home," says Dr. C, "and obviously you've been doing great staying hydrated since the infection is so low in your sample."

"Yep, I felt almost 100% again, but then some random aches and stiffness and tingling started, so, I came in just to be safe." 

"Hmmm, have you been stressed lately?" 
Apparently "stressed" is medical jargon for, "What are you doing here? Away with you apparition! And your phantom voodoo symptoms!" Half-expecting him to disappear in a puff of smoke while he threw Zofran fairy dust in my face, I fumbled through my exit interview, said thanks and goodnight.  

Tuesday afternoon, I was ready for this infection to be DONE. Completely. Enough dilly-dallying on my naturopathic soapbox.* I double-checked the common side-effects, cross-examining with the abnormal "congratulations you're special" side effects. Down the hatch went the first Cipro pill. Still, I mused, "We're treating this 'mild' infection over the course of five days with something that has the strength to destroy an Anthrax exposure. Okkkkkk."

Four hours later, as I'm bending down to pick up some laundry I feel a rapid succession of "pop pop pop pop" as my spine curves. My wrist, neck, shoulder, all the joints begin creaking over the the next few hours. Congratulations, I'm especially abnormal. "Tendon damage is a possibility. Stop taking immediately." That night before drifting off to sleep, (and switching off my iPhone), I casually mention to Daniel, "I guess I'm not taking my 2nd dose today. Or ever." Sigh. 

Never trust a man wearing Crocs.**


{Bon Bon}


Update: I woke up the next morning with a lower backache, stiff joints, and funky circulation. Five days later, and my muscles are still occasionally sore, lower energy, blood circulation is sporadic (freezing hands, freezing feet, mild numbness in legs while laying down, etc). Any anxiety symptoms afterwards were random, arriving in small waves, but I could see how further medication would freak you out, especially if you are an already anxious person. Anxiety is one of Cipro's many side effects. My joints occasionally sound like a bag of Rice Krispies. Snap. Crackle. Pop. 

This was ONE PILL out of the ten I was supposed to take. 

But, I can use the bathroom like the good ol' days, because of the three days prior to my visit filled with: 

-LOTS of water
-D-Mannose (super cranberry power!)
-Apple Cider Vinegar (drinking it mixed with water & a little bit of honey) 
-Baking soda baths
-Fire Cider
-Garlic pills
-Grapefruit seed extract
-Colloidal silver, vitamin c, probiotics (post-uti recovery) 
-Maybe that one Cipro pill. I'll be nice and give it the benefit of the (major) doubt. 

*I'm back on my soapbox.

**Doctors, I appreciate you. I really really do, regardless of your footwear choices. Obviously, there is a bigger issue here within the realms of preventive medicine and treatment and drug companies and science and society and money...


Thursday, April 17, 2014

{my first profile pic on Facebook. sassy}

I remember, ahem, "back in the day," (and I can legitimately say that now because I just watched the "Kids React to: Walkmans" video and I felt legitimately "back in the day" legit old), when our creaky dial-up internet would connect me to my sparkly (literally) new MySpace page. With a continually rotating top 12 friends and an entire narcissistic About Me paragraph, including several choice cerebral musings about taking the road less traveled AND IT HAS MADE ALL THE DIFFERENCE, yes, all the difference at the age of 15, my entrance into social media had begun. 

By the Fall of 2006, my college dorm room was set up and my graduation laptop was constantly logged in Facebook mode. I mean, homework mode. kinda homework mode. I'm a SAHM now, so we can, you know, laugh about it

And now, well, now I have an iPhone. 
My parents lost me in the middle of Target when I was two and found me crying in the entertainment section, surrounded by a wall of televisions blaring Ursula's face in the finale scene of The Little Mermaid, and then fast forward about seven months ago when I left my phone at a restaurant table. The fear was palpable in both those scenarios. Enough said.

Between Blogger, Pinterest, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, one really intense Candy Crush phase and recently signing up for Clash of Clans because my husband needs my Elixir (don't ask), and definitely the PBS kids app, I'm overwhelmed! Mainly surprised my right wrist doesn't have carpal tunnel yet.

Every single day there is something thrust smack dab in my face. Buy this! Make this! Eat this! Wear this! Learn this! Read this! Go this! Like this! Cute this! Look this! Viral this! Trend this! This! This! #THIS! This is exhausting just to read. Let it be officially stated though, if you post a photo of your cute child, I will not be able to like it ENOUGH. My stone heart is easily crumbled by those baby thighs. That sounds weird, so we are moving on! 

In 2014 alone, a majority of us will appear as paleo-lifestyle-ethically-sourced-coffee-roasting-curate-conscious-yogi-fueled-hypnobirthing-herbalist-gardening-vsco-filtering-francophiles. They have us weaving damn tapestries now. I know, because I made one and it's hanging in the living room. All this to say: I am one of the "they." I've lived in Portland most of my life, so I feel like this is more of an innate thing rather than trend-conditioned. I'm still open to theories. 

Eight years of (almost) daily online interaction later, and I honestly don't know though.
I'm constantly asking myself, "Why am I sharing this right now?" Is social media my way to be seen on a daily basis? Am I being validated and connected through the glass screen? Finding inspiration or lamenting aspiration? If I bake gluten-free chia kombucha kelp cookies and don't Instagram it, did it really happen? 

(The answer is yes. But they were probably my grandmother's chocolate chip oatmeal cookies with a first ingredient of: all the butter in your fridge, melted. And I WILL eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for an entire week straight)

There are many of you that I have never met in real life and yet, I know the most intimate of life's details including: what your kitchen backsplash looks like, what you made for dinner yesterday, if we have matching shoes from Target, your favorite coffee drink, who your grandmother is...
This is the new normal. "Hi! I just met you...and I already know everything about you."  

(Not normal: the majority of Instagram accounts found in the "popular" page. 
If you are over the age of seven and your photo gallery is 99% #selfies...that's an entirely different blog post) 

During my senior year of high school, a seemingly shy girl in a different class that I didn't "know" friended me on MySpace. For several weeks straight, I would sign into my account and there would be a cheerful message, out of the blue, from her. The back and forth online interaction gradually grew into her opening up about school troubles, relationship worries, you know, all that fun high school stuff. I'd listen, offer advice, give encouragement, basically, channel my inner Oprah and hit "reply." 

And then the strangest thing would happen. 

I'd run into her on campus, the following day, and it was like we had never talked. I mean, technically, we hadn't. 
She still couldn't figure out that face-to-face friendship. 
Yet, she still wanted to be heard. 

We all do. 


{Bon Bon}

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...