When I was fourteen, I watched Scott Pilgrim vs. The World for the first time. It had everything I wanted: action, romance, comedy, a main character that was a dorky, awkward guy just like me. It’s my favorite movie, and it took me almost a decade to realize that Scott was an asshole.
I’m bringing this up because it was during a rewatch of Scott Pilgrim that I had a realization: I was an asshole.
I don’t mean that I was a bad person, or a mean person, or a malicious person, but simply that I was an asshole. I…
My partner and I were driving to IKEA, and an endless stream of words came flowing out of my mouth — mostly awful puns, honestly — I was talking at the speed of a thousand suns (or a thousand sons, if you have talkative children) when I realized something:
I forgot to take my Ritalin.
We both laughed, and I said, “How did I not realize I had ADHD?”
It was a relief when my psychiatrist diagnosed me with ADHD. I used to get so frustrated with my brain for not doing the things I wanted it to do. I…
In the fall, I made it a point to focus on building better habits for myself. I was working from home, and for the first time, I had to hold myself accountable to be productive. I had to get things done.
My roommate swore by yoga first thing in the morning. For a long time, I wouldn’t stretch before we went bouldering; I just scrambled up the wall like a madman and wondered why muscles I didn’t even know existed were hurting so damn badly.
One morning, I had a hangover that just wouldn’t go away. I’m only twenty-four, but…
Like many other people, I started writing more frequently in March of last year. I had a lot more time, I figured, so why not try to make a little money doing the thing I loved? Maybe I could even make a living out of it.
Let’s just say it didn’t go as planned, and I spent most of last year doing the same thing I’d always done: waiting tables. I eventually got a great ghostwriting opportunity, and since then, I’ve become more serious about the whole writing thing.
Looking back, it’s no surprise that I didn’t see the success…
Look, I won’t get up on my high horse and act like I’ve never seen porn. I was a teenage boy once, but even as a semi-functional adult I have to admit that sometimes the curious monkey has to peel his banana.
But the porn industry, and Pornhub specifically, has come under especially furious fire after a scathing, in-depth New York Times piece criticized the platform for allowing user-uploaded videos of underage girls and other criminal offenses.
For the better part of the last decade, I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety. I knew this, but until recently I had done little to treat them. Thankfully, after seeing a new therapist and meeting with a psychiatrist to get medication, I’m feeling, well, happier.
But the alleviation of my depression and anxiety symptoms illuminated another: I find it almost impossible to focus on anything. I’m crippled by choice. Even the little things, like which shirt I’m going to wear or which brand of body wash I want to buy, become investigative evaluations: Well, I don’t know, do I want…
“I feel like I’m losing all of my friends,” I said to my therapist. “And I feel like it’s my fault.” He assured me that this isn’t the case. In fact, it’s a fairly normal occurrence for anyone in their mid-20s.
Life in your mid-20s is strange. Some of your friends are getting married and having kids while others are still living at home. Some of them are starting careers, some are getting divorced, and some of them have absolutely no idea what they’re doing with their life — I’m in this last category.
It happens all the time, people falling out of love. In a bad relationship, we may look back and cringe, wondering what we were thinking. Other times, we can look back with clearer eyes and admit that it was never meant to last, but we don’t regret it for a second.
My relationship with the Pokémon franchise falls squarely into the latter.
The first Game Boy I ever owned had been sitting in the Lost & Found bin at my mom’s work for three weeks before bringing it home for me. …
In his book Absalom, Absalom!, William Faulkner crafted a sentence that is 1,288-words long. When he was alive, he considered himself among the greatest living writers of his time, placing himself above Hemingway. Hemingway responded by, ironically, calling Faulkner an alcoholic.
Both men are literary giants with their own viewpoint on how the written word should be, well, written. Faulkner’s long-winded prose was filled to the brim with elephantine sentences rife with English that was Victorian in its execution, where the point-of-view shifted regularly and stream-of-consciousness rambling became a staple of his complex and enigmatic works, while Hemingway preferred simplicity.
The worst panic attack I’ve ever had was at Firefly Music Festival in 2018.
My mental health had been steadily declining my senior year of college — uncertainty about my future, a collapsing family-life at home, issues with my then-girlfriend — and I felt increasingly anxious each day. At one point, I asked my mom for some of her Ritalin.
I was drinking a lot to cope, too, which is never a good solution. But I was 21, what better did I know?
The girl I was dating went to Firefly every year — it was near her hometown —…