Sleepless in WCU

It’s 2:34AM on December 14th, 2016 and I’m awake for some reason…and when I can’t sleep, I write. Lexie, I’m so very sorry if you can hear me typing over here.

It has been months (six, to be exact) since I’ve written anything on here. Why? I could give you the simple answer and say “*sigh* college”…or I could give you the more complex and fun answer and say that I’ve been too busy staying up until 1am in my friends’ dorms; eating God awful dining hall gruel, shedding a tear with every bite because it’s just not my mom’s cooking; bitching and moaning about “how stupid is it that Professor _____ just gives us 100’s on every paper, why do I even try”; and laughing while reading funny tweets with Madi until we’re both wheezing and crying and capturing those non-human noises on our Snapchats. I’ve been so immersed in experiencing my new life at college that I barely thought to share any of it in writing.


I cannot believe a full semester has already gone by. This is almost too cliche to say, I’m actually cringing while typing it out, but it really feels like just yesterday Lexie and I were hauling our lives into a 12 x 10 dorm room. That whole day was weird. Foreign. Scary. Anxious. The car was packed and ready to go, so I said goodbye to my dog and off we went–just like that. We somehow managed to fit everything into the closets, bins, drawers, and shelves with which we were provided. In a matter of about three hours, I had arranged my new life in my dorm. Soon enough our family and friends were gone and Lexie and I were officially on our own for the first time in both our lives. We just looked at each other, like “uhhhh, what do we do now?”

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I remember standing in line for dinner that evening when my mom called. I’m thinking, like, really?! She just left two hours ago. But as I’m talking to her she starts to get choked up, which obviously gets me all flustered since I’m the World’s Most Emotional Person! Ask anyone. As the tears are welling in my eyes, I’m inching closer to my university’s president, whose hand I’m supposed to shake in about ten seconds. I’m still on the phone with my mother when I end up in front of him. I literally muster out a wavy “hello” before I quickly turn away and walk inside.

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Later that evening I take Lexie up to the fourth floor to meet a boy who had Snapchatted me the day before move-in to ask where I was living (we ended up actually living a floor apart from each other). Lexie and I ever-so-awkwardly stand in the threshold between their mini hallway and their bedroom and talk to these two boys Nate and Derek. The four of us are chatting and warming up to each other, then later we end up hanging out together until all hours of the morning. Little did I know these two would have such an impact on my life in four short months. But I guess that’s how life goes sometimes.


I’ve only been in college for one semester, but I’ve already established a life here. I catch myself calling West Chester University “home” when I’m actually at my real house with my real family. Do you think Dana could drive me back home–I mean, back to West Chester tonight? I think the fact that I’m actually quite sad about having to be away from most of my WCU friends for forty days says a lot about how quickly we have all become close friends and how college truly is the best four years of your life.

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I think I’m overall much happier about life now. I have a lot of new friends who bring so much light into my day, every day, that I can’t not be happy.

Until next time,




My blog posts are usually quite humorous and very Jenna-esque, so those of you who are new here and may be reading this post thinking that I always write these in-my-feels narratives, don’t be mistaken. Just you wait 😉


Coming to a Close

A while ago I wrote a blog post about beginning my Senior year of high school. I said how bittersweet it is to be leaving a place I called home prison (kidding) for four years. And it’s true. In a week and two days, my last alarm will wake me from my deep slumber, and instead of tapping my screen to snooze it, I’ll hop out of bed with excitement for school. In a week and two days, I’ll sit in my morning spot on the deep window sills by the auditorium where I’ll scroll through my Twitter and answer Snapchats. And in a week and six days, I will walk across a stage, shake the hands of the adults who have helped me along the way, turn to face a camera, and wave to my family who will most likely be sitting as close as humanly possible to where I am. Not to be cliche, but…to be cliche, I feel like just yesterday I was at a Bruce Springsteen concert with my dad, the night before my first day of Freshman year. It feels like just yesterday I couldn’t sleep because I was too wound up about school. Feels like just yesterday I was a 14 year old, wide-eyed Freshman.

These past four years have been some of the most exciting, confusing, frustrating, memorable years of my life so far. I’ve gained amazing friends, lost a couple, dated a boy, broke up with a boy, failed a test, got A’s on tests, took fun classes, took awful classes (like Chemistry and Intro to Physics), performed in musicals and dramas. The list goes on, just talk to my mom. Needless to say I had some good times in high school.

To think I’ll be heading off to college in the fall is wild. It’ll be my first time making decisions completely on my own. I can eat when I want, leave campus when I want, and wake up and go to bed when I want (for the most part). My wonderful roommate Lexie and I are going to have the best time together.

So here we are. The clock to graduation is ticking, and it’s ticking quickly. By the time I finish this blog post I’ll be one day closer to leaving this school forever.

Here’s to the past four years, and to the next four,




Ever Since I Left Ye Olde City

When I got the OK from my parents regarding my potential night in the city with my friends, I couldn’t focus on the video I was editing for class anymore. What should I wear? What time are we leaving? I need to ask my dad to withdraw money from my account for me. Will Natalie let me borrow her shirt? Wait…how cold is it gonna be? 

The questions never ceased.

Soon it was time. The city was waiting for me and my black-denim-on-black-denim ensemble. I (well, my dad) scooped up Julia and off we went.

Going into Philly never fails to excite me. That’s probably because not only do I live in a kinda bland area, but because I love the hubbub of urbanites’ shoes clicking on the Old City brick, first date conversation, and car horns every five seconds. A true symphonic masterpiece. Once my dad pulled away I shrieked, “Julia, we’re in the CITY!” If my brother had been there he would’ve said yeah, and water’s wet. 

We immediately sought out warm air and a seat. We found both at the Franklin Fountain, accompanied by the little ding! of their old-timey cash register, “Wait, call Cait and see where they are.” Turns out they were a little ways away, so to pass the time, Julia and I once again braced the cold to try and satisfy our hunger that had been lingering around since third block at school.

Julia pulled out her phone to see if there was a little cafe we could reach by foot. When she typed in our current location all these little dots popped up on the map, each one a different restaurant. We were clicking and clicking, then we saw it. In unison we belted out: “DAIRY QUEEN.” Cackling ensued and we started walking to get–ironically enough–ice cream in 35-degree weather.

Much to our dismay, DQ was MIA. And by MIA, I mean the place was closed. On a Friday night. At 7:45pm. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Juls that angry before, “WHADAYA MEAN THEY’RE CLOSED? IT’S FRIDAY NIGHT IN PHILADELPHIA. IT’S NOT EVEN ANYONE’S BEDTIME YET!!” I couldn’t disagree with her on that one. So Dairy Queen was a bust, but Big Ass Slices was not. Besides the cute cashier being a total jerk (when I asked if he had change for a twenty, he said “Not right now.” Not right now? You’ve been open for, like, twelve hours and don’t have one ten, and two fives?), and the actual ‘za being decent, Big Ass Slices passed the test with–I’d say–a C-.

The rest of the crew was with us by that point, so we all agreed to go find some art galleries. After all, it was First Friday. We began our hunt for any storefront that had any art in it whatsoever.

Well, apparently we aren’t any good at finding paintings or drawings or sculptures because we came up dry in that department. But Cait pointed out an art supply store and we hauled it over there to ask if they knew of any galleries…except I couldn’t think of the word gallery at that time, “Hi! We’re looking for art. Not like this art, like actual art. Like finished art.” Then Cait rescued me and said, “Galleries. We’re looking for art galleries. Do you know where we can find any?” The two kind cashiers said most finished art would be on 2nd and 3rd street.

We didn’t find any galleries that were still open, but we found a teacher from school, which was weird, and we happened upon a really cool vintage/thrift shop called N3rd Collective. You can find pretty much everything from the good old days there: old pins (I bought one that says “Totally Bogus”), secondhand vintage clothing (flannels, sweaters, dresses, coats…you name it–they’ve got it), and nifty knick knacks. I hate to even call them knick knacks because they were some of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. They had old Wheaties license plates, “risque pens”, old Philly mugshots, telephones shaped as various objects, vintage bumper stickers, and so. Much. More. It was pretty awesome to see the stuff my parents and grandparents used to see every day.

By that point all of us were city-ed out for the night. I called my dad, and the others started their trek back to the car. Soon enough I was back in my warm, suburban home, eating leftover Domino’s pizza and watching Elf.


Good Ol’ Frank

Recently I was sitting in a restaurant when a familiar tune danced its way into my ears: a piano-only version of “My Way” by my grandfather’s favorite man…Frank Sinatra. As the piano sang for Frank, “I faced it all, and I stood tall, and did it my way,” I didn’t feel like I was in that cute little restaurant, but rather at my grandparent’s beach house on LBI during a lazy Sunday morning with Mr. Sinatra’s classic voice sneaking into my dreams and waking me up.

Every week–without fail–my grandfather, Joe Sr., blasts his old, beat-up transistor radio (one that should be in the trash, as we bought him a shiny new one for Father’s Day. I guess you really can’t teach an old dog new tricks…or give him a new radio). Now my Sunday mornings at the beach with him consist of timeless tunes like “Fly Me to the Moon”, “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”, and “The Best Is Yet to Come” all remixed with my grandfather’s booming voice as he washes his car outside…for the whole street to hear.

Nothing is quite as funny as my grandfather shushing the whole family when one of his favorite Sinatra songs starts playing, “SHH. SHHH. Joey, shush…the best is yet to come, and babe, won’t it be fiiiine?” We all know that trying to lower the volume is a futile effort, as he’ll simply yell, “WOAH WOAH!”, look at you straight in the eye with an open-mouthed, devilish smile, then adjust the volume back to his liking. I think it’s safe to say that if good ol’ Frank was still crooning today, there’s no doubt my grandfather would be to Frank Sinatra what I am to One Direction and Taylor Swift…minus the screaming and crying at concerts.


We Found Wonderland (At a Taylor Swift Concert)

The monstrous Lincoln Financial Field stood in all its glory right before us.

“You ready? Let’s go.” I said to my sister Natalie.

“I guess.” she squirmed.

Her doubtful compliance thrust us forward, each step carrying us closer to Taylor Swift herself.  It all seemed surreal.  I mean, I never thought I’d be within a mile of Taylor, let alone less than a football field’s length.

After we passed through the ticket gate, we were handed bracelets that looked like Apple Watches by employees who looked just thrilled to be there amongst thousands of loud boys, girls — and, yes — women, and men who looked like mini versions of Taylor’s various music video characters.  These snazzy bracelets would later on light up in different colors, and flash in-sync with her songs, dousing the stadium in a beautiful glow.  On the side was a little tab that would eventually turn on the plastic jewelry, “Should I do it? Should I pull the tab? I’m scared, what if I break it?!”  I nagged as we took off up the steps, two at a time.  At the top, we were greeted by a very charming gentleman who gave us 1989 Tour buttons and a piece of paper directing us toward a photo booth presented by Xfinity, “Jen, we made it,” Nat said in total awe as she scanned the stadium.

“WOOOOO. I KNOW, LET’S GO!” I shrieked.  I guess I’m more the type to show my emotions.

I pointed in a random direction that ended up being correct, and off we went into the vast world of Taylor Swift.  We found the photo booth and hopped in a line that, despite feeling longer than a normal school day, was cheered up by none other than me.  Why yes, I was asked to get the line going by singing the Swift Jam “22″, and I happily obliged.  I took a deep breath and looked at Natalie as if to say: “I already know what you’re going to say, so shut up in advance”, then began singing…It feels like a perfect night to dress up like hipsters, and make fun of our EXES. Oh oh, oh oh.

The rest of the line joined in, and soon we had a slightly off-tune chorus of girls and boys singing a universal hit.  Quite soon after, Nat and I were up next to take our picture in front of a background that consisted of the same seagulls on Taylor’s shirt, which she dons on her 1989 album cover.  The staff working the three booths were extremely kind and patient, helping us with our belongings and taking their time to make sure they typed the correct phone number.

Next up on the Tay-Tay-Train was the classic concert picture with the glamorous stage as our backdrop.  After finding just the right person to snap the pic, we made our way to our seats.  Great location — perfect for panoramic shots of all the bracelets lit up.  Little did we know that the huge tower holding the lights and speakers would be directly in front of us, blocking our (expensive) view of Her Majesty.  We booked it to customer service where, after a marathon of eyelash-batting and innocent smiling, we got our tickets exchanged for even better seats in the level below us.  On our way back, we saw loads of creative costumes hand-crafted by adoring fans. Nat and I even correctly picked out some fans who would definitely make it to her after-concert-meet-and-greet called Loft 89 (like the shirtless boys covered in purple glitter…why didn’t we think of that?!).

One of my concert rituals is to make friends with the people around me. Not only because it’s a nice thing to do, but also because they’re the people who will be directly affected by my screaming and flailing later on.  Better safe than sorry.  There was a little girl behind me who I constantly talked with before the show, asking her which song she likes best (it was Shake It Off, which she actually slept through…poor little girl’s internal clock couldn’t keep her awake until the end of the show), and asking her if she promises to dance the whole time (she for sure danced, until she wore herself out).

Shawn Mendes and Vance Joy absolutely rocked the stadium with their beautifully unique voices and darn good looks.  Hey, Shawn, I’m your age. You’re my age. I’m just putting that out there.  Also, happy early birthday.

After a bit of anxious waiting, our legs sticking to our seats more and more with each minute, the stadium lights finally turned off and a wave of excited cheers erupted all at once.  The stage began to light up, and our bracelets followed suit.  Can you guess what happened next?  If you guessed more screaming and definitely some crying, then you are correct!  Our wrists were twinkling in the glorious summer night, and the entire stadium looked like the sky had dropped all its stars in one lucky place. Soon we heard city sounds…but not Philly city sounds, which directed our attention towards the dancers climbing out from under the stage. The sounds grew louder, and not just the pre-recorded car horns and incoherent chatter, but also the crowd’s screaming and occasional chant of “Taylor! Taylor! Taylor!”.

The spotlights grew brighter, and more focused on the huge “1989 World Tour” text in the center of the stage. And just like a dream, Ms. Swift walked out from underneath the stage in her metallic skirt and flashy jacket, with her signature crop top and began singing her vibrant tune “Welcome to New York”.  I think I did some serious damage to my innards at that moment — all caught on camera, of course.  The tears were there, and they were all too real.  But as she began singing, I felt immeasurably jovial. I’ll have to admit, seeing her strut down the catwalk didn’t seem as foreign to me as I thought it would. I’m assuming that’s because she interacts so heavily with us that, even though I’ve never met her, I feel as if she’s an old friend.  But, of course I was still shocked at the sight of her supermodel long legs and radiant smile.

During her groovy hit, “Style”, Taylor decided to inflict heart pain on us when she brought out the one and only Cara Delevigne and Mariska Hargitay to dance with her on the catwalk. Like, are you serious? That was an unbelievable moment. Not to mention the other surprise guests: Echosmith and their fun tune “Cool Kids” .

The show was remarkable. So many colors, costumes, emotions, and surprises. Now, through the wonderful invention of the television and the Internet, I’ve seen her perform at awards shows, festivals, in hospital rooms, but never has she performed as spectacularly and flawlessly as she had on June 12th, 2015 (besides the rest of her tours, of course).

Taylor has a thing for incredibly inspirational speeches that she happily bestowed upon us every few songs, which I personally adored and looked forward to.  She has become quite wise in these past ten years, and I’m just grateful that she has decided to share her vast knowledge with her loyal fans. Taylor said something quite profound before she sang her euphoric tune “Clean”; she said to us, “Remember, you are not your mistakes. You are not damaged goods. You are not the opinion of someone who doesn’t know you.”  As silly as this may sound to non-Taylor fans, I took what she said seriously. So, for her to tell me that just because I’ve made a few many mistakes in my life so far that those mess-ups don’t devalue me as a human being, made me rethink past blunders I’ve made and forgive myself literally right there in that stadium. I guess you could say I felt…clean.

Thank you and I love you, Taylor.


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Me and Natalie clearly admiring everything.

Credit to dancingtotaylorsbeat on Tumblr.

Credit to dancingtotaylorsbeat on Tumblr.

Credit to dancingtotaylorsbeat on Tumblr.

Credit to dancingtotaylorsbeat on Tumblr.

Credit to @itsHAILing__ on Twitter.

Credit to @itsHAILing__ on Twitter.

Credit to @alexasternn on Twitter.

Credit to @alexasternn on Twitter.

19 Things You Are Bound To See At An OTRA Concert

All of this is 100% TRUE

Daily Dose of Fangirl

Hiiiii everyone! Its time to buckle up and strap in tight because today One Direction officially embarks on the North American leg of the On The Road Tour!!! Get ready for endless shenanigans around the states, countless fans casually stalking, I mean bumping… into the boys all around America. Get ready for more studio time, promo, and trips to Soul Cycle as the boys maneuver around the States and sing their little hearts out. It’s also important to keep in mind that all four boys are 21 now!!! One Direction, drunkenly coming to a bar near you!

I’m sure you have all been setting your world clocks to various locations trying to catch up with the European leg and the shows they played overseas. I can’t even tell you how many random countries I had added so I knew when to be awake when they were on stage. Spending countless…

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Senior Year: A Bittersweet Journey

And so another school year goes by: a couple AP classes, a few  too many bad hair days, several missed buses, new friends, classic memories.  I’ll get on the bus after school tomorrow at 2:25 and I will be a Senior in high school — the most bittersweet year of my life.

About this time in 358 days, instead of saying, “See ya next year!”, I’ll stammer: “Keep in touch,”.  I’ll be trading in my Chromebook for a yellow graduation robe and hopefully spice it up with some academic achievement medals and ropes.  I’ll be soaking in my relaxing week at the beach with a couple friends where we’ll already be looking back at our four years of high school — laughing and, yeah, probably crying at some of the ridiculous antics that went down: like lunches in the Publications Office and the radio room, chatting with Lois in the halls, the incredibly embarrassing videos I filmed and edited for the school’s televised news program, and those late nights gallivanting around the empty school on rehearsal breaks for theater productions.

Senior year seems like it’ll be the culmination of my high school years.  All my hard work for the past seven semesters paying off big time when over-sized envelopes from colleges come in the mail, going out and buying college gear in bulk, changing my Twitter bio to “*Insert School* ’20”; becoming a member of the school’s Facebook group, finding a somewhat normal roommate for my freshman year, and outlining a plan with my best friends on how we’ll stay best friends.

Of course I can’t be 100% positive about all this, but if I learned one thing from Hannah Montana, it’s this: life’s what you make it (so let’s make it rock).


The End of Something Great.

For those of you who know me personally—scratch that—for those of you who have even the slightest idea of me know that I’m a true One Direction fan (and to those 1D fans reading this right now…Vas happeninnnn?). Today marks the end of an era, the end of something great —all puns intended. Yes, I’m referring to Zayn Malik — formerly of One Direction — leaving the band behind to be a “normal 22-year-old” with his fiance Perrie Edwards.

It has definitely come as a huge shock to all of us, even with the (speaking in terms of retrospect) foreshadowing last week when he decided to take a short break from their world tour. A short break? Bearable. Gone forever, leaving 1D to perish in their own demise? Tragic.

There are many, many people out there right now ridiculing the fans’ reactions. Calling them crazy, over-the-top, ridiculous. But what they may not realize is that Zayn single-handedly saved lives, spread smiles across the faces of countless individuals—even my mother—and brought people to tears with his singing capacity. To all the non-Directioners, this is nothing but another boy band mishap. But to us, the real fans of the band, it’s a day in our lives that we will never forget. Much like how my father remembers when The Beatles broke up, I will remember March 25, 2015.

Now, the boys didn’t literally save my life, but they’ve definitely impacted it. I can’t really describe the feeling of the past five-plus years of my life having ended. The first boy band I ever fell in love with (if you don’t count The Beatles) is quickly diminishing with each day. The band who supplied the paraphernalia that covered my walls and ceiling; the band I cried/screamed bloody murder for during their concerts—it’s all gone. Not forgotten, but just over.

I’d hate to rain on the fans’ parade (this includes myself) but 1D’s days are limited, if they weren’t already before. As the boys once said: they balance each other out. If one leaves, they’ll tip over. It’s inevitable and I think that that particular part is possibly the most saddening of them all. Forget Zayn not being in 1D anymore — he still exists, we still get to see him here and there — it’s the simple fact that One Direction isn’t One Direction anymore. Flashback to their Orlando release party for their latest album Four. Zayn was sick so he couldn’t make it. Before the four lads introduced each other Liam said, “We’ll introduce ourselves as Liam, Niall, Harry, and Louis because we’re not One Direction without Zayn”. What Liam said is undeniably true. There’s a reason they were a band of five in the first place. If it were meant to be four, it would have been four (Simon Cowell is never wrong).

Let us not forget this little diddy from One Direction: This Is Us during the campfire scene,

Liam: Do you think if one of us wasn’t in the band though, that the band would be this big?

Niall: No. Definitely not.

Liam: I don’t think so either. I think we balance each other out.

The three other boys go on to agree with Liam and Niall, and they spend the rest of the segment talking about their futures. It’s a beautiful scene that is now painted over by a morose picture of four boys—once five—trying to carry on the legacy of One Direction.

I’m truly heartbroken by the news and I have no clue what’s going to happen next for Zayn, Liam, Louis, Harry, and Niall. No one does. But I think what we can do is just sit back and let the boys have their time alone; they just lost (figuratively) a band member, a best friend, even a brother.

We Never Go Out of Style: Meet the Woman Behind One Direction’s Fashion Choices


What does it take to make the hottest band in the world look incredible? No one knows better than Caroline Watson. She styles Harry, Liam, Niall, Zayn and Louis–from their X-Factor days to their present fame. Brodie Lancaster interviewed Watson about helping each band member evolve into his signature look, in the glare of the spotlight and in the eyes of the fans.

What was that original concept you pitched?

I had this idea that I wanted them to be like the male equivalent to the Spice Girls, but being kind of cool. When I say “the Spice Girls,” I mean being in a group but having an identity. Everyone wore different things and no two girls looked the same. I wanted to create that with the boys. It was obviously a big Simon Cowell project, but I don’t think anybody knew how much it was going to blow up in the way…

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WHHS, How May I Help You?

99.9 WHHS, how may I help you on this fine evening?

Call into my school’s radio station any time between seven and eight-thirty PM on Wednesday nights and that’s what you’ll hear on the other end. It’ll usually be me or my friend Maeve who answers your (pity) call with a twinkle in our voices.

Oh, forgot to mention my friends and I have a radio show at school. I know, super cool.

We made the executive decision halfway through our show to turn the hour and a half we have into to a more eclectic genre. Playing anything we feel like (Oh hi, B101). Like last week we played everything from Frank Sinatra to Taylor Swift to Hozier to The Eagles to Rihanna to Kanye West. The four of us- Julia, Avery, Maeve, and I- want to broadcast all types of music from the mid-1900s all the way up until today to give all three of our listeners a buffet of tunes.

Every couple of songs we’ll go on air and babble on about current news. And I mean “babble” in a literal sense. Last week we reviewed The 57th Annual Grammy Awards- everything from the fashion faux pas to our favorite performances (*ahem* Ed Sheeran, AC/DC, Hozier and Annie Lennox, and Taylor Swift’s front-row dancing- simply magnifique).

Doing this show with my gal pals is just so- for lack of a better word- fun. It’s fun to leave my house on a school night and hang out with three of my friends and just play sick music that we shamelessly jam out to. Almost sure I’m gonna make that a new rule: No Shame in Singing or Dancing in the Station. Last week, I played “Shake It Off” (by the goddess herself, Taylor Swift) and all of us went HAM (I could have made a T-Swift-best-friend reference by saying ” we went HAIM”, but I didn’t for your sake. Needless to say I still get credit if you ever use it.) Our in-studio performance of her song was 150% off-key and loud and kind of concerning but we were having a blast, being ourselves.

Sure, I can count the listeners we have on one hand but that’s not the motive behind our show. We do it to have a great time. We do it to introduce new music to each other. To bond. To create lasting memories together. Seems intense that I’m saying a simple school radio show has so much meaning, but it’s hard to lie and say it doesn’t. Music for me is an escape, and to add three really cool and lovely friends into the mix makes the experience so much better.

This radio show is something I’m going to remember when I’m 35 years old and “Four Five Seconds” (By Rihanna, featuring Kanye West AND Paul McCartney…Woah) plays on a throwback station. I’ll picture the carpet-lined studio. And the record player. And the double-monitor computer. All the keys and controls I had to use. The lounge outside with it’s gross (but hella comfy) couches. The Polaroids hanging on the walls and the Van Gogh-inspired mural painted behind them. I’ll remember the laughs we had off-air and the struggle to not say a “bad word” on-air. The amazing, 65-year history the station has (here’s to 65 more). I’ll recall everything.

Cherish moments like this, folks- especially you youngsters out there. Try not to be glued to Instagram and Twitter. I know it’s difficult to pull away from it. But once you find the strength to do so, your life will open up and you’ll see how terrifyingly fast it passes by and you won’t give a hoot about social media as much as you had before. But, wait! There’s more! You’ll have more time (and energy) to go outside, walk around town, and hang out with people face-to-face instead of scrolling, liking, and refreshing pages on your phone. I’m taking the initiative toward fully enjoying life by limiting my time on social media…And this radio spot is just one step closer to that goal.

Here’s to a successful semester with the crew and our new radio show. Cheers to that.