It’s almost 2016, and you’re looking back on 2015 and realizing that all you’re taking with you as you dive into the new year is a couple extra pounds and the sinking realization that you’re twenty years old and more than halfway done with college. So, logically, you’re freaking out a little bit. But you’re in luck, because we’re all in that shitstorm together, and here’s what you’re going to do.

You’re going to make a list of everything you want to accomplish. Big, small, and everything in between. You’re going to make goals that are actually accomplishable; you’re not going to write “Go to Mars” or “Overcome all your insecurities” because that’s unrealistic and prone to failure. Set small goals: “Get published somewhere” or “Go outside of your comfort zone in fill in the blank.” Make it relatable, make it accomplishable.


Write it out. Physically. Not on a laptop. Not on your phone. Get out a journal or a piece of paper and curl your millennial fingers around a physical pen and write it out. I don’t know why, but there’s something satisfying about the permanency of physical paper. It might seem more transient, but laptops are so easy to hit click, click, click, and delete things from your list and make it seem like it never existed.

Set big, massive goals. Body goals, internship goals, love goals. Keep them in your mind and operate with the mindset of striving towards something. It can be cool to strive, and having that massive, life goal hanging over your head doesn’t have to be an anvil waiting to drop. It can motivate. It can inspire.

Set goals for the year, but also for the next year after that. And after that. In the next few years, you slightly chunky twenty-year-old, you’ll be out of college and moving on to bigger and better things. You’ll be in jobs or graduate programs or the army or a parent. You’ll be starting crap-paying internships and starter jobs, and living in a small apartment with your new roommates, Cockroach and Student Debt. So now, when you’re optimistic and dumb, set massive goals and little goals to keep you going when things seem very #dark.


Set metaphysical goals. Set out to be nicer to other people, to yourself. Set a goal to say one positive thing to yourself for a week. Then a month. Then six months. By the end of the list, try to imagine the kind of person you want to be. Brave. Smart. Educated.

Set bucket list goals to benefit other people. Volunteer. Register to vote. Donate. We’re dumb, smart, naïve, opinionated, idealistic, realistic. We are twenty, and we are so capable of greatness. Create a 2016 bucket list to rival the gods.

Be educated. Be bold. Be brave. Take risks. Fuck ‘em. Treat yourself. Try something new. Reach out. Ask for help. Be the one people ask for help. 2016 could be great, or it could be another year that you write off. Start the list. Be a ball3r.





Alternately titled “Snakes (And Ladders) On A Plane: A Guide To Entertaining Yourself”.

Originally I thought that the flight from London to New York is six hours. Six hours? Totally doable. I’ll bring a book, a sleeping mask, and an adult diaper—and I’ll be good to go. Then I checked my ticket again. Flight departure: 14:35. Flight arrival: 17:45. For you plebeians, that means 2:35 pm and 5:45 pm.



It’s like a math problem:

Question: If the flight leaves at 2:35 and is six hours long, and the passenger is reading Tiger Beat and wearing an adult diaper, what time will he arrive in New York if the time difference is five hours?

Answer: 3:35 pm.

Realization. The flight is longer than six hours. It’s actually over eight hours—allegedly. I have yet to see the receipts, as Tumblr says, so it could still be shorter. Apparently we’re flying against the winds and that takes longer. I’m not a scientist. I don’t know the specifics. But regardless. Eight hours is much more of a commitment than six hours.


So with this new information presented to me, I made like a good Moleskine journal and planned. So here, without further ado, is the faultless, foolproof, you-need-to-do-this-otherwise-your-life-will-be-terrible How-To:

1). Wear something casual, but not horrifying:

I always make the mistake of taking “comfortable” to the extreme. I think, “Oh, I’m going to be sitting on a plane for multiple hours, let me pull out the dolphin onesie and a pair of clogs!” No. Please resist this urge. Because eventually, unless you are severely confused, you’ll be getting off that plane and into the real world.

I have whittled my outfit down to the necessities: A) Adidas track pants, to get that subtle promo and also an elastic waistband; B) Nikes, because I can do it, and also you’ll have to take your shoes off; C) Comfy tee, which usually is my Pugs Not Drugs tee, but I’m being ~crazy~ and switching to the t-shirt I made for Halloween (All My Dreams Are Dead); and D) a blanket scarf—this one is new, and my sisters will hate it, but I love blankets and scarves so why not?


2). Socks:

If you don’t bring a pair of goddamn socks onto the goddamn plane, you’re a f*cking idiot. They better be fuzzy and comfortable, because Lorde knows you’re gonna be taking off your shoes as soon as the tray tables go down, and we don’t want to have to wear our threadbare regular old socks. Treat yourself to luuuuuuuxury. Do yourself that one favor.

3). Entertainment (ha, more like “entertaintment” amiright?)

Plan for the trip like you’re going to have to entertain a rowdy, ADHD-riddled five-year-old, except that you’re actually just planning for yourself. I love having a wide array of things to do: read books, look on my phone, watch movies, listen to podcasts. Sometimes, and this is kinda so “millennial” of me, but I like to edit photos for later Instagram postage. It’s very relaxing, and something that doesn’t require data or WiFi.

I am super into podcasts, so I’ve downloaded a bunch to burn through: Chris Hardwick’s The Nerdist, and some of Joan Rivers’ In Bed With Joan even though RIP to the queen. I also want to buy Bianca Del Rio’s comedy special, but it’s on Vimeo, so I don’t know if that means I’ll need to have WiFi to watch it, which is no bueno. Something that doesn’t require WiFi is iTunes, so I think I might buy Tyler Oakley’s new documentary Snervous, because I feel like it’ll be more in the vein of his podcasts—which I love—than his videos—which I’m, like, ehh on.


4). Snacks:

Idk, maybe some nuts? Some berries. You do you. I’m not going to tell you how to do your life.

5). Sleeping Possibilities:

This could technically go in apparel, but fuckit. I always wear a beanie on flights because of two reasons: 1) I can put it on and lean my head against anything and it’s soft enough to act as a pillow, and 2) I can pull it down over my eyes like a knit condom and block out the entire world. However, if you don’t have a beanie, I would suggest getting a sleeping mask. It’s one of those “OMG so LA” things to have, but I love mine. It was a cheapie from CVS, but it works great and looks like a bra when you put it on your face. Plus it makes everything black blackout black, which is a total plus.


I’m super excited to go home but I kinda hate flying—I still don’t actually know how planes fly, and no one’s explanations have really made me believe them—and I hate being cramped in tiny spaces for long amounts of time. If you didn’t know, I’m 6’2”, which is horrible. Basically, for planes, anything over 5’5” and you might as well be a 1000+ lb elephant because it was not built for you.

I’ll sign off—just kidding, I’m typing off. Oh my god, I had to write an essay in my final today, and I don’t know if this happens to anyone else, but I always get ink blotches all over the side of my hand because I rest it on the paper. I’m so unfit even my hand gets tired from writing. Writing.