So far life in France has been amazing. After 30 baguettes, ¾ a kilo of Nutella, one (maybe 20) too many glasses of wine, endless fromage and 50 million grammatical mistakes, I can say that I have experienced the “English speaker in France” experience to a hilt.

My first “girl’s night out” with my roommates was few nights ago and I’m proud to say that even though I have yet to go to the Ponts des Arts (The Lock Bridge) or experience the perennial Eiffel Tower moment, I felt very in France.

At the moment, I’m in Dinard, a quaint little tourist beach town. Sadly, there are only 2 age groups here; the old/retired and schoolers. Naturally, finding somewhere to go on a Friday night or any other week night is virtually impossible for a young girl like myself.

BUT, my German roommate and I had spent the afternoon before drinking a bottle of wine on a school night and laughing ourselves out...

I want to be unfiltered
Acne
Messy hair
Kinks
Unrelaxed hair
Makeup forgotten
Stretch marks
No abs
Unfiltered

I want to be unrefurbished
Unshaved legs
Eyebrows not fleeked
Hanes, not Victoria’s Secret
Chipped nails
Legs not crossed at the ankles
Back slouched
Undefined calves
Unfiltered

I want to be unfiltered
Undefined
I want to want without being needy
Single, but not lonely
Be alone without being bitter
Skinny without being anorexic
Always hungry without being fat
I want to know how to not cook, iron, clean
To not want to be a mother,
Nor a stay at home mom

I want to laugh
Loudly
Head thrown back
Mouth wide open
I want to be sexy,
But not slutty
I want to dress how I want
But not be “begging for it”

I want to be rambling thoughts
Scattered ums and I-don’t-knows
I want to be the roughest draft of me
Unedited
With all the typos
Broken English,
Creole, smatterings of internet...

I remember when my 21st birthday was in a year so far away it seemed like I’d need a time machine to get there. I remember thinking that everything would be okay when I got to 21. The aim was to have life all figured out at 18, but just in case, I allowed myself 3 extra years to get it right.

At 21, I’d know all the answers: I’d know why my jeans didn’t shrink in the machine, I’d know why I continued to like guys who were bad for me, I’d know how to prevent bubbles from forming in my nail polish and I’d perfect my winged liner. I’d unlock all the secrets to the universe by 21. I’d be pretty. I’d be smart. I’d be perfect.

I’d finally know what to say when guys said “Tell me about yourself”, I’d know the answer to “What do you want to be when you grow up?” At 21 I’d have every year for the rest of my life mapped out. At 21 a whole new world would be about to open for me.

Now I’m 20...

Being on the road in Jamaica is many things; boring is not one.
Tekking on the road in Jamaica can be sometimes hassling, what with the hot sun, the stoplights that rest at red forever, and the pesky transport authority policemen. Nevertheless, there is never a dull moment on the sidewalks and the roadways of Kingston, Jamaica. Whether you find yourself on Princess Street, Acadia Drive, Constant Spring, Hope Road or navigating the most illustrious of neighbourhoods in the hills of Upper St. Andrew, you are in for a treat.

As a pedestrian, one of the first things I noticed was that potholes aren’t limited to the roads themselves. Not to be left out, our sidewalks will kill the sturdiest of heels and sprain the thickest of ankles. Proceed with caution. Be mindful of the vendors who spread their wares on the sidewalk; avoid the handcart man dem and beware of wandering madmen, pickpockets...

Let’s talk about a few things that don’t exist; the perfect wax job, matching winged eye liner, a fun foundation course, an effective Jamaican parliamentary session, Jamaican customer service and a comfortable pair of 4 inch heels.

In my quest for contentment with the life I’ve been dealt, I’ve made the bold decision to be satisfied with the fact that some things in life are just not meant to be. With this new life philosophy, I no longer get irritated when the JUTC buses never show up on time, I’ve gotten accustomed to the idea that my 24 hour lipstick will never last 24 hours and sadly, that $50, owed by that reputable West Indian university, will never find its way back into my pocket. These things I can contend with.

However, one thing I refuse to resign myself to is bad customer service. Bad customer service, in the perfect world I envision for myself, would be as probable as a...

When you’re in love,

Your favourite song reminds you of him

Your favourite colour, food, scent, moment

When you’re in love,

You see his name on every page of your favourite book

You hear his name around every corner

When you’re in love,

Everybody looks like him,

Walks like him, talks like him, smells like him

When you’re in love,

You see little parts of him everywhere, every time, in everything

He’s a part of your thoughts, like your lungs need oxygen.

When you’re in love

You smile for no reason.

You laugh when nothing’s even funny

When you’re in love

Whether you’re sad or happy or one of the many in betweens,

The first person you want to tell is him

When you’re in love,

You don’t need fantasies, fairy tales and the Notebook.

You already have your own

When you’re in love

You don’t need dreams

Because your reality surpasses your imagination

When you’re in love

You don’t have to...

Question 2: Share with us what you are most passionate about and what the impact of this has had on your life

                            “Feel Good Music” 

Last night I fell asleep listening to music. This morning I woke up listening to music. Floating in musical bliss for the better half of my life, it is no surprise that I intend to do the same thing tomorrow, the day after and for many years to come. I live for music. Every pivotal moment of my life can be scored with a song. Every inexplicable feeling can be found in the underlying beat of some song from some genre: contemporary or oldies. Most persons would find it odd to search indefatigably until they find the song they heard in a movie or a commercial- but humans are known to go to great lengths for the things they love. I am no exception. Music, like all the things I love; food, movies, literature, language and people, is...

I met my fake boyfriend when I was 16 years old. His name is Andrew and he’s two years older than I am.
Andrew Jameson is 22 years old and currently studies architectural engineering at the university a few minutes from mine. He’s in his 3rd year of university and we met at a party at a mutual friend’s house. He’s 6 feet tall, an Arsenal fan, drives a blue Honda Civic, plays 3 sports and takes guitar lessons (he knows that I have a thing for guys that strum).
He likes his hot dogs with ketchup, mustard but no relish; prefers the beach to going to the pool; really loves my smile and hates when I tickle his sides.

And if you’re really interested, he lost his phone at his best friend’s BBQ last week, he deleted his Facebook profile to focus on his school work and God no, he does not tweet.
Andrew Jameson is perfect and we’re naming our first daughter in honour of his aunt; who passed...

Growing up I was made to feel bad about being skinny. My classmates called me “Stringbean”, “Popeye’s Olive”, “Skeleton” and barraged me with other names.

All around me I saw girls with body parts that I didn’t have and still don’t have and I was made to feel inferior to them; like less of a female because my body proportions were different. By 9 years old, so many girls in my 4th grade class were wearing training bras while I still looked like a boy from the waist up.

They had these exciting new protrusions from their chests and by 5th and 6th grade, these little bumps were matched with hips and clearly visible asses.

Meanwhile I pulled out my General Science textbook and reread the chapter on puberty until the pages were tattered and crushed. I cherished those three lines about late bloomers and underlined them triumphantly. One day my day would come.

I’m 20 years old this...

Between my not so useful foundation courses, my core courses, and sitting under the trees and by the benches of my university, I can say I’ve learnt a lot in these few months. I learnt that soaking my nails in cold water after getting them done helps them to dry faster; I’ve learnt that setting my clock a day ahead gets me 5 more lives on Candy Crush; and yes I picked up a thing or two from the lectures and tutorials.

As I come to the end of my year, two things university has taught me is that the lifespan of a friendship is dependent on many variables and university is the ultimate test of friendships.

University has taught me, more than anything else, that friendships do not last forever. And even more than that, knowing somebody for 8, 10, 15 years isn’t enough to keep that friendship going. This past is important- undoubtedly so-but it is not enough to keep a friendship kicking...