Lyss-says

Personal essays straight from Lyss’s fingertips.

knitting-yoga

Is Knitting the New Yoga? Well, Yes, for One Reason.

dreamer realist

Caught Between Dreams

"If you can dream it, you can do it."

That's what I was told; the grown-ups never failed to tell us to dream big, and, oh—don't worry about how you're going to reach that dream. Because you were just going to "do it." Maybe I was naive. Maybe I was easy to convince. Maybe I was just too much of a dreamer, and those words were the cherry on top of my disillusionment. Seemingly overnight, my dream world inflated into an impossible beast even more impossible to tame.
survive your hometown during the holidays

How To Survive Visiting Your Hometown During the Holidays

For many of us millennials, the holidays are a time when we take off from work, pack up, and visit our parents' houses. Our parents' homes are usually our childhood homes, nestled right in that memory-filled neighborhood you grew up in. Going home for the holidays is much more than a simple seasonal trek. It is akin to preparing for war. You have to learn how to survive your hometown during the holidays in order to make it out alive. And, luckily for you, I'm a pro at it.
growing up a tomboy

Shirtless and Crying Over Pink Birthday Gifts: Growing Up A Tomboy

I'm a fashion lover through and through. I've been obsessed with fashion magazines ever since I can remember--they were my guilty pleasure--hence my current profession. I'd accompany my mom on her weekly trip to Publix (I still accompany people on their trips to Publix because I love it that much), and my reward would be that I could get a magazine and a packet of Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers. It was my ideal Sunday. But to say that I am only a fashion lover or a girl who prides herself on always being put-together would be a lie. Make no mistake: I grew up as a tomboy.

complaints about fall

True Life: I Hate PSLs (and Other Complaints About Fall)

Ahhh, sweet autumn. I never once knew your true beauty before I left the balmy confines of Florida, my home state, just about a year ago. Before I started a new, shiny life in North Carolina, I spent countless miserable hours in Florida bars, wiping the sweat off my face and trying to reapply a smidgeon of face powder--anything to get rid of my glaring, shiny forehead. But no powder is a match for 100% humidity in a crowded place--everyone smells, and nobody smells good. Gross humans rub up against you and you can't blame them for not having large quantities of skin covered, but you still think they should be wearing a turtleneck of sorts, just to prevent their spiky forearms from accidentally touching yours. But that is my past. I have a new, shiny life in a place that has all four seasons. I can finally, officially experience fall.
making friends as an adult

Making Friends As An Adult is the Worst

Think of some of the worst things in your life. Some of the things you hate. Going to the dentist? Your idiot boss? Rush hour traffic? The slimy film on pre-packaged cold cuts? All of these things are pretty bad--especially the latter. But there's something plaguing your social life, too, and it's not your subpar karaoke skills. It's the realization that making friends as an adult is hard. In fact, I'd go as far to say that making friends as an adult is the worst.
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