Columbia Journalism School Class of 2014
Boston Magazine. Billboard Magazine. Hachette Book Group.
Former Arts Editor of Boston College's independent student newspaper The Heights.
Lover of all things pop culture. Ask me to rap for you & you'll be surprised at the outcome.


New York, you have my heart, and I can’t wait to be back in three short weeks.

You’re not trying to be perfect / nobody’s perfect / but you are / to me

My friends are the reason that this has been the best summer of my life. I owe you everything, guys.

Just remember that sometimes, the way you think about a person isn’t the way they actually are.

John Green (via saddest-summer)

Sad, but very, very true.

Before Thursday…

I was working out just to get in shape.

Now? After Thursday?

I’m training.

I’m not even going to get mad anymore; I’m just going to expect the lowest from the people I thought the highest of.


Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option.

Mark Twain

Played 359 times

I don’t know what it is about this song but it is speaking to me right now more than any song has in a while. I thank higher powers for music in trying times.

Regina Spektor’s “Firewood”

The piano is not firewood yet
They try to remember but still they forget
That the heart beats in threes
Just like a waltz
And nothing can stop you from dancing

Rise from your cold hospital bed
I tell you you’re not dying
Everyone knows you’re going to live
So you might as well start trying

The piano is not firewood yet
But the cold does get cold
So it soon might be that
I’ll take it apart, call up my friends
And we’ll warm up our hands by the fire

Don’t look so shocked
Don’t judge so harsh
You don’t know
You’re only spying
Everyone knows it’s going to hurt
But at least we’ll get hurt trying

The piano is not firewood yet
But a heart can’t be helped
And it gathers regret
Someday you’ll wake up and feel a great pain
And you’ll miss every toy you’ve ever owned

You’ll want to go back
You’ll wish you were small
Nothing can slow your crying
You’ll take the clock off of your wall
And you’ll wish that it was lying

Love what you have and you’ll have more love
You’re not dying
Everyone knows you’re going to love
Though there’s still no cure for crying