millennial blog project

millennial blog project

I won’t sit idly by and watch my life pass before my eyes

A millennial’s coming-of-age story

My name is Emily and I’m 30 years old. I’ve been writing on this blog in fits and spurts since I was 14, originally as “Blackbyrd” on blackbyrd.wordpress.com. I’ve long been enamored by the written word and have scribbled poems and sonnets in countless notebooks since I was 7.

Today I’m a classically trained journalist who has built a successful career in corporate marketing. On this blog I write about my musings while traveling all over the world and riding my bike.

Welcome to my never-ending coming-of-age story.

Thanks for visiting!

  • Keep it “PG”

    Keep it “PG”

    This photo. It’s like photography’s version of my favorite poem. I can’t even… We looked at more photographers and more photos, but I returned to this one in my Google search every time. I think it’s the innocence. “They’re so young!” My classmate said, “And I don’t like that she’s topless.” They’re not all that Read more

  • Seventeen

    “Your cousins said they couldn’t believe how much you’ve changed,” my mom told me two weeks ago as we drove to Chautauqua. Well, yeah. Papa died in May of 2011. That was the last time I had seen the only two cousins I have on my mom’s side. Senior in high school. Seventeen. Tightly wound. Read more

  • What the ‘M’ stands for

    My middle name is Margaret. There. I said it. But, like Junie B. Jones and her ‘B’ for “Beatrice,” I’ve never particularly liked Margaret. I always liked the sound of Emily Kathryn, or “Emmy Kate” for short (my parents’ original plan). But Grandma was in the hospital when I was born and they didn’t think she would Read more

  • From the box to the grave

    I wrote this poem in a cemetery I found nearby. In the beginning of the summer, I’d ride my bike there to sit and think. (I’ve spent a lot of time alone over the past couple of months.) The poem is about my papa. I started crying and ended up calling my boyfriend while he Read more

  • No smiling allowed

    It’s pretty bad when you have to remind yourself to be happy. That you seriously have plenty of reasons to be happy. And yet, you still aren’t. Generally, when I’m out in public, I like to smile at passersby. But those who fail to smile back or just look downright miserable tend to piss me off. I Read more

  • Grandma’s Sentimental Journey

    Grandma moved to the couch when I began to cry. She closed both of her warm hands over one of mine and looked me straight in the eye. “I don’t want you to have to leave St. Bonaventure, and your Papa wouldn’t want that either” she said. “I can help you.” I bawled and sank Read more