Ladies and gentlemen, your Captain has turned on the Fasten Seat Belt sign...

Growing up my dad used to take me on father-daughter ice cream dates that weren’t just at the local ice cream shop. No – they were anywhere from three to 100 miles from home, and always included a detour to a different airfield, air museum, or aviation monument. I couldn’t escape it, nor did I want to. Since setting eyes on The Jenny in the Red Barn of the Museum of Flight in Seattle and boarding my first commercial Boeing 737, I have fallen in love with aviation. Now, after spending far too much time away from the world of aviation, I have found myself yearning to take to the skies and fly. 

Here's to a new journey. Please stand by...

Nobody likes a twenty-something. I don't hope to be your exception.

For almost four years now I've been trying to find the right space for me to write, vent, rant, rage - call it whatever you want. The thing I want the most out of this is a place to vomit words. Vomit. Puke. Ralph. Spew. Speeewwww…that’s the right word.

I don’t give a shit what you think.

Ha. That's a lie if I've ever seen one. I actually care a lot. That’s why this is anonymous, but I’m willing to bet that at some point it’ll be pretty obvious who I am. Until then, I’ll be as honest and forthcoming as possible.

So why does “nobody likes a twenty-something”. Well think about it…how many twenty-somethings do you like? Granted, that question assumes the reader is over thirty years of age and likely not themselves a twenty-something. The inspiration came mostly from a collective sense that people who are not twenty are terrified, intimidated, and annoyed by twenty-somethings in general. We are fearless risk-takers, better looking than our older counterparts, think we’re too cool, and hopelessly self-loathing. We have few commitments, and attempt to stay without ties. We are not mature as the generations before us, and we wreak havoc. We wreak lots of havoc. How could you like us if you wanted to?

A lot of the aforementioned elements were floating around in my brain, but were sewn together in a beautiful examination of my generation in the New York Times article “What is it About Twenty-Somethings?” published on August 18, 2010.

I fully acknowledge that I am just another one of those identity-searching twenty-somethings hoping for happiness just like the rest of the population.

Feel free to join me on this writing journey. My goal is to write at least three short pieces a week. They may be stories, critiques on society, rage filled rants, glowing raves, or brain bile. Ooooohhh. That was disgusting, and I like it.

Let’s see what happens. My ultimate goal is to become a better writer with the possible side effects of channeling my reckless emotions toward a productive medium. To warn you, here are some factors playing into my end results: depression, anxiety, over-scheduling, dysfunction, change, graduation, the unknown, music…ooooo lots of music, love, friends, learning, hope, happiness, expectations, and lack thereof. Please understand just how much craziness is about to be in this blog. Get over it or turn back while you can.