the most romantic thing in the world

I've been giddy the last few days. 

It’s weird. It’s not because of circumstance. Nothing has changed, really. I just feel like I’m walking around with rose-colored glasses. 

The best word I can use to describe what’s making me giddy is the feeling of romance. I’m feeling romance in everything. I know it sounds cheesy, but hang tight.

Romance (noun)

A quality or feeling of mystery, excitement, and remoteness from everyday life.

I’m drunk on the romance that comes with fate. Chance. Not knowing if something is the right time, right place, or if it’s been meant to be since before you were born. 

It’s so mysterious and exciting and weird to think about all the little things in life that came to be.

The single most romantic thing in the world is that fact thE you met your most important people. 

Think about your most important people. Your family. Your best friend since 5th grade, or the one since last year. The ones who broke you heart and the ones who you might marry. The coworkers who are somehow more your best friends than your best friends. Your dog who you can't imagine life without. That bitch who hurt you so bad, you changed your course. 

Those people. Good important and bad important, which is all good important, I think. 

Now. According to the first link I clicked on, there are currently 7,721,613,916 people in the world. That means of all the people you could’ve met, you had a one-in-7B+ chance of meeting those people. 

Think about the moment you met them. Here's how I’ve met some of my most important people: 

• They were dating the boy I had a crush on in 7th grade

• We ran into each other in the dorms when I was randomly walking through a dorm I didn’t live in

• Their parents raised them Christian when mine did not but I somehow became their youth group leader (wtf?)

• Their parents chose to have kids at the same time as mine did, raise them in southern California next to where my parents did, chose a certain set of schools over another like my parents did, and happened to have some common interest that brought us together

• They went to the same extremely small concert at a dive bar that I almost didn’t go to and came up to me after I was randomly asked to play cowbell for some audience participation  

• They wanted a new job so they searched the right things and landed on the job description for the company I worked for, which happened to need a person with those exact skill sets and had the right comp and right timing and right everything, and the only reason I worked there was because my friends took a chance on a company that had 0 employees and worked really hard so that we’d make enough money to get to 200 employees and post job descriptions to hire more

Okay. Weird, yes. But it's 1593827x weirder to think about every little perfect decision and right timing and left turn instead of right turn and parents choice and grandparents choice and the right people meeting forever and ever and not dying in a car crash or from choking on steak or a bug bite SO THAT this exact chain of events kept happening and you could meet those people at that time.

The people who you cannot imagine your life without, brought to you by __________. Something. Fate. Destiny. Complete chance. I don’t care what you call it, I just care that you take a second to celebrate how weird it all is. How sweet it all is. 

How romantic it all is. 

Cool. Well. I don’t expect your life to change because of this. That’d be great, but I don’t. These probably aren’t new thoughts or the most groundbreaking words you’ve ever read. 

But I really do hope this changes the way you see  your most important people. That you say the things you really want to say, because it all lined up for you to. That you thank them in your heart, or with your words or actions or a gift or a hug. That, when you’re with them, you really feel being with them in your heart. The magic and mystery and absolute fucking romance that you found each other at all. 

Since I started writing this post about 22 minutes ago, 

• 5,400 babies were born. 

• 3, 365 people ended their journey.

• And you should close this and go love on your people while you’ve got them.

what did you keep? — the daily taryn

This post was originally written for subscribers of the daily taryn, a daily email newsletter/writing project . Now's the perfect time to join, so I'll hold while you do so. Love u.

A few weeks ago, I briefly mentioned a really sad Uber I was in. I mean, the car wasn’t sad. The driver was. Honestly, she wasn’t even sad, but her stories and her memories and what we talked about made me really, really sad. Even though it was a while ago, I want to tell you a bit about it as I’ve thought of it every day since.

But before I get into it, I need to do a very embarrassing thing. Some of you have been asking if you could send money to say thanks for The Daily Taryn, which, gosh. That really is the most kind. If you are one of those people or are not but still want to send some dollars over for the last month’s work, you are true angles. I don’t deserve or expect it, but if I can buy a drink on you after this ends, I will surely cry a little happy tear. I’ll leave the info for how to do that at the end of this post.

When a ride is more than a ride

Okay, back to it.

It might shock you to know that I loathe chit chat or mingling of most kinds. Chatting with uber drivers is generally not my thing but this night, I think it was serendipity. A happy accident. Little magic that I was matched with this girl.

I was ubering home after a drink with some friends and got a very sweet driver. She was kinda quiet, but you could really she really wanted to talk. She was kind and funny and reserved until given the floor — when homegirl had the stage, she said it all.

I’m not sure how we got there, but we were talking about growing up. She told me how bullied she was. How she was always, always picked last. She remembered everything — her bullies names (yes, multiple). The exact sentences they said. The people standing around her when it happened. The way no one ever helped.

I saw a picture of a kid on her lockscreen and asked if it was hers. She excitedly shared about him — her son — and her incredible husband that she created him with. She was so, so happy. All smiles to be talking about this with me.

Then. She says this: “After all those years, I never thought I’d marry a man like him. I never saw it in the cards for myself. A skinny, attractive man. I never thought I’d be worthy of it, or that a man like him would look at someone like me and think I’m beautiful.”

I will never forget it. She was not fit, but she was certainly not fat. The fact that she felt this way about herself, it crushed me. And it crushed me more because it made sense. She remembered every little mean thing people said to her for probably 40 years. She wasn’t confident because she couldn’t be confident — the world didn’t make room for her to grow.

And yet, she was happy. She talked through these memories like they were exactly that — memories. Things that happened in the past and brought here to who she is today. She was so positive and kind. An amazing listener. So friendly. Asked incredible questions. She was a wife and a mother and a bread winner and a person I hope to see again. She came out on top.

What did you keep?

She overcame it all, but she kept a lot of things. She kept a lot of hurt. She kept memories, and you could tell they still stung like a fresh wound.

What did I keep?

Since that ride, I’ve continually asked myself that questions. What did I keep?

What memories or insecurities or vivid dreams or one-liners or handwritten notes or backhanded compliments did I keep for all these years?

I have a terrible memory, but I know some of the things for sure. Now, so does my therapist. I’ve literally had sessions where I’ve asked if I could just talk through memories — the few that I have — to try to make sense of why those stayed and others didn’t.

I wonder what I kept that I don’t even remember. The comments or actions or secrets seeped right through my memory into some back alley of my brain. Present Taryn doesn’t know how they’re affecting me, but they are. I wonder what those things are. I’ll keep looking. I’m excited to find out.

If you haven’t thought about what you kept, you should. It’s important to know. It’s important to know what you kept so you can know what you need to let go.

—

Alright, back to you angels who want to compensate me, for whatever reason. Thank you. It means the world. If you want to buy me a coffee or drink or dinner or ROUNDTRIP FLIGHT TO EUROPE — you can send some love on venmo or paypal. Venmo is @taryn-arnold and paypal is here. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Hi. I can't believe you read this — it actually means the world to me. Now that you're on a roll of making me happy, I'd like to give you 2 options to keep the fun going. 1) If you'd share this with someone or a feed of someones, or 2) you joined my newsletter. If that's not your thing, I'll love you regardless, but I'll do some middle school love letter journaling about you if you do either. Head here to join my list of gorgeous subscribers.

talk about being gay — the daily taryn

This post was originally written for subscribers of the daily taryn, a daily email newsletter/writing project . Now's the perfect time to join, so I'll hold while you do so. Love u.

The daily-ness of this newsletter is almost over, and I feel slightly bad for not creating one main post all about “gay stuff” — especially since that was the number one requested topic. Instead of creating that post, I’m going to tell you why I won’t.

why I haven’t talked much about gay stuff

There’s a few reasons, really.

First, I’ve talked about it a lot already.

Like, a lot. Like, if you’re gay, I think that’s probably how you found me. If you’re not gay, you’re probably indirectly gay from how much I’ve talked about it.

I wrote about my first gay relationship, and girls just smell better. Read that here.

I wrote about some advice for church-going baby gays, because I was one. Read that here.

I interviewed my first girlfriend about finding love and hiding love and losing love, and it was really sweet. Listen to that here.

I interviewed my current girlfriend about labels and why we hate them but want them. Listen to that here.

I made a video for Kristina that I have literally never shown anyone except her. I made it for her one day with footage I had laying around after I realized how much I film her, because I think she’s the most pretty. I just watched it again. It’s really, really special to me — not because it’s good (beware - it’s not), but because it’s a little glimpse of us. It’s unlisted, but you’re my fam, so enjoy. You can watch that here.

So, yeah. I’ve made a lot of things about it. Things I’m really proud of, and things that sometimes make me feel like I’ve said it all. But there’s more to it.

Next, I haven’t talked about it much because I don’t want it to be all of who I am.

My sexuality is a part of me. It is not all of me. I don’t want to be a “gay writer” or “gay podcaster” or “gay _____” because it makes me feel smaller than I am. Not because “gay” but because label. Besides being gay, I’m also kind. But could you imagine if all I ever wrote about was being kind? How to be kind. Why you should be kind. Why being kind is the best way to be. When I knew I was the most kind. What to do when I’m not feeling kind. It would get old, for the reader and the writer, and I’d become “the kind girl.”

I try hard not to over-identify with any one thing because it makes me feel less like me — a dynamic, changing, multi-traited person.

That said, I love talking about it. I know it’s important to — I know it’s helpful and it matters and it helps you and me and all of us feel a little less alone. I just don’t want to talk about… only that, you know?

Lastly, I’m still figuring out how to be gay.

This is true. I literally don’t know. Probably the least comfortable I feel is when I’m with other gay people — I don’t feel gay enough, or like I’ve been through enough “gay stuff” to be a voice for us all. It’s very, very weird that’s a real fear of mine, but it is. I have lots of friends who are professional gays, and I’d trust them with all of my gay questions and problems. But I don’t feel like that — I feel like I’m still figuring it all out.

I don’t know what I label myself as. I say “gay'“ in this post because it’s easy, not because it perfectly fits.

I don’t know if I find men or women more attractive. It feels obvious to say, “it depends on the person.” But it does.

I don’t know if I feel fully confident out in public with a girl yet. Actually — I do know how I feel about that — somedays it’s easier than others. I don’t know how I feel about how I feel, though.

I don’t know anything about gay culture. I don’t know which celebrities are gay, or who the true gay icons are.

I don’t know huge gay moments in history. Gay literature. Gay activists. Gay issues.

I very much still feel like a baby gay. Like I’m still quietly peeking out from inside the closet, just barely entering the rest of the room. I don’t know how to be gay, but I’m… trying?

When in doubt, weave it in

So. Instead of big soap boxy posts where I pretend to be certain about all the things gay-life has to offer, I have taken a stance that feels more realistic to me. Like I do any other topic, I weave in the gay naturally.

When I talk about my Saturdays, I also talk about Kristina and how cute she is.

When I talk about Love Island and The Bachelor and all the glorious TV I love, I point out that I kinda like everyone — maybe the girls more? Who knows.

When I talk about hard things, I talk about coming out.

When I talk about life, I weave it in. It’s a part of the picture — not the whole thing, but a part, and a part that I love.

So, yeah. That’s why I didn’t make a “fully gay post” this time around.

Talk tomorrow, 
Your friend, 
Taryn

Hi. I can't believe you read this — it actually means the world to me. Now that you're on a roll of making me happy, I'd like to give you 2 options to keep the fun going. 1) If you'd share this with someone or a feed of someones, or 2) you joined my newsletter. If that's not your thing, I'll love you regardless, but I'll do some middle school love letter journaling about you if you do either. Head here to join my list of gorgeous subscribers.

we've all got junk drawers

This post was originally written for subscribers of the daily taryn, a daily email newsletter/writing project . Now's the perfect time to join, so I'll hold while you do so. Love u.

I donated everything I own.

Juuuuust kidding. I wish though — I'd love to be one of those "give everything away because possessions mean nothing and the joy of giving is greater than anything you've felt through buying something" type of people but I truly, deeply am not. I love things. 

I own so much stupid shit. Like, truly. I bought a mini-skateboard because Zac Efron was somehow tied to the company. I have the DUMBEST trinket from Shark Tank, that you stand on and twist and then you get abs, clearly. I have rollerblades that you strap on to your shoes.... for... all the times I'm going to go rollerblading. Duh. 

I also keep so much stuff. T-shirts from high school. Letters from exes. Books I've never read but should definitely read and bought them to force myself to read them but we all know I will not read them. 

I buy stuff. I keep stuff. So yes, I have a lot of stuff. But I'd never want you to know that. I've written about this before, actually — how I keep my room pretty tidy, so if you walked in you'd think, "wow, she's clean!" But do. not. open. a. drawer. It's chaos. Madness. Every drawer is stuffed with stupid purchases and weird keepsakes. Every drawer is a junk drawer. 

That was Taryn pre-Friday. Now I'm Monday Taryn, and Monday Taryn spent her whole weekend cleaning like my life depended on it. I couldn't stand the mess anymore. I couldn't stand the double-little life I was running — clean on the outside, chaos on the inside. It was exhausting and felt sneaky and like I was tricking people around me.

(Obviously, this a metaphor for life and how most of us want it to look like we have it together but there is actually so fucking much happening beneath the surface, and instead of dealing with the shit, we shove it behind the books and under the other stuff and hide every little baby string that might pop out and make us look messy or out of line in any way.)

So. I was over it. My friend/angel Jenn (who loves to clean) came over EVERY DAY this weekend to help me purge, and it was pure magic, and it ended in donating 10 trash bags full of stuff that I really, really don't need. It felt and feels amazing — I've been smiling like a kid in my bedroom. It doesn't look too much different on the outside, but there's the deepest sense of joy knowing that if my roommates walked in and opened a drawer, no one would cringe. It's lit in there. Everything has its place. The calm on the outside matches the calm on the inside. It feels so good to know that.

Moral of the story: Don't be scared of the junk drawer — we all have one. Or two. Or ten. Don't try to hide it. See it for what it is — stuff that's better confronted than pushed aside. Stuff that deserves to see the light of day. Stuff that should be worked through with someone you love.  Stuff that shouldn't make you insecure, but should motivate you to change and do better. It's just stuff. Look at it, thank it, and let it go.

Talk tomorrow, 
Your friend, 
Taryn

Hi. I can't believe you read this — it actually means the world to me. Now that you're on a roll of making me happy, I'd like to give you 2 options to keep the fun going. 1) If you'd share this with someone or a feed of someones, or 2) you joined my newsletter. If that's not your thing, I'll love you regardless, but I'll do some middle school love letter journaling about you if you do either. Head here to join my list of gorgeous subscribers.

the sky is nice up here, just you wait — the daily taryn # 17

This post was originally written for subscribers of the daily taryn, a daily email newsletter/writing project . Now's the perfect time to join, so I'll hold while you do so. Love u.

I do some of my best thinking on planes, likely out of survival. If I’m not 100% distracted, I’m a mess up there. Here’s what I was thinking about on one of my last flights.

Prepare for take off

Have you ever flown on a bad day? It’s gloomy or raining or snowing or the sky just feels weird and you’re positive the plane will enter a cloud and never come out. Beside the weather, you’re just having a day. Maybe it’s what you’re leaving, or what you’re flying to. You’re sitting on the tarmac, smushed against a stranger who’s waiting to open their crusty hamburger, watching the guys in reflective jackets load hundreds of bags of too many outfits, and you’re just not having it.

You half listen to the safety briefing thinking “what if this is the one time I really need to listen and I don’t?” so you kinda pay attention, but not nearly enough to stay calm if something actually happens. You take off and your town gets smaller and smaller and smaller until you pretend you know what highway that is but we all know you don’t. The sky is dark and weird and you’re feeling dark and weird as you get closer to it. The plane is shaking and bouncing and people are trying their hardest to not look afraid, but if you look close enough, everyone’s a little on edge (except the 60 year old woman already snoring through her romance novel — how the hell do these people get to sleep so fast???).

Don’t like this one bit, but it doesn’t matter — you’re along for the ride no matter what. You have to be.

If you’re like me, at this point you’re quietly praying “please stop the turbulence. please stop the turbulence.”

And then, just then

You and your headphones and the other 175 people in this pencil with you shoot out from the other end of the cloud and it’s perfect out. It’s perfectly blue. The sky is gorgeous. The plane is perfectly still. You’re actually, literally, floating above the clouds. As far as your little window let’s you be, it’s blue and magic and clear and warm.

Twenty seconds ago, you were doom and gloom, because that’s all you knew. Just on the other side of those clouds below you are heaps and heaps of people who think today is a crappy rainy day. A crappy rainy week. A crappy rainy year. They’re covered in rain. Their hair, ruined. There new raincoat is proving not to be rainproof.

But in this moment, you know the truth. You know that it’s really, really pretty up here. It’s actually kinda breathtaking.

It’s nice up here. I promise. Just you wait.

If you haven’t caught on to this metaphor, let me be blatant — this is a lot like life. No matter how rainy and windy and grey and weird your day is, you can trust and know that it will and does get better. It’s always sunny somewhere. It’s always clear somewhere. And it will be clear and warm and calm for you again soon.

Just you wait and see.

—

Hi. I can't believe you read this — it actually means the world to me. Now that you're on a roll of making me happy, I'd like to give you 2 options to keep the fun going. 1) If you'd share this with someone or a feed of someones, or 2) you joined my newsletter. If that's not your thing, I'll love you regardless, but I'll do some middle school love letter journaling about you if you do either. Head here to join my list of gorgeous subscribers.

you are who you want to be

This post was originally written in 2013 on a website that had an audience of one (me). It actually still holds up, so I sent it to my subscribers of the daily taryn, a daily email newsletter/writing project . Now's the perfect time to join, so I'll hold while you do so. Love u.

On my way to work this morning, I was thinking about how weird it is that no two people are the same. I know it’s common sense, but it’s pretty fuckin’ weird. There are so many people, but not two of anyone.

You are you. Yay. But what makes you you? Everything, really.

A bit of everything

You’re the place you were born. The way you were raised. The good qualities from your parents. The bad qualities from your parents. The best days. The weird days. The kinda forgettable days. The nights you stayed up laughing with friends or having sex with someone you really super love. You’re your ex, and the ex before that ex, and the boy you chased around the playground in 6th grade. You’re the tennis trophies and report cards and birthday parties and trips abroad. You’re every experience and memory and lover and challenge — you’re a piece of it all.

Inherently you

You’re a mix of all the things that you’ve done and read and seen and experienced, but you’re also a mix of things that are inherently you — independent of everything else. You’re the traits that have followed you from childhood to adulthood. You’re the kid who “always danced through the movie credits,” so your mom says. The class clown. The one who looks for the lonely people. The scaredy-cat. The one who feels like they’re meant for something bigger. The one who has always felt secretly psychic. Or not enough. Or who always wins board games, because you have no idea how you got this competitive, but you just are. You are what you just are.

You are who you want to be

My favorite part about who you are is that you’re exactly who you want to be at any given moment. If you wanted to be anything other than what you are, you’d go be it. Don’t want to be a smoker? Stop smoking. Want to be a kinder person? Start being kind.

You — the person that you are — is not set in stone. You can be who you want to be. You might hate the way you were raised. Be embarrassed of your weight. Think you’re made for better. Know you’re made for the best. You might wish you weren’t this way, or that way. Wish you were more like the people you admire. You might be dating someone who has qualities you’ve always wanted. You might have friends you don’t want — you know they’re making you worse.

I have the best news for you: you can change who you are. Maybe not the color of your eyes or the shit you’ve experienced or the memories of the worst days in the world — no, you can’t change everything.

You can’t change who you’ve been, but you can change who you are. You can change who you’ll be.

—

Hi. I can't believe you read this — it actually means the world to me. Now that you're on a roll of making me happy, I'd like to give you 2 options to keep the fun going. 1) If you'd share this with someone or a feed of someones, or 2) you joined my newsletter. If that's not your thing, I'll love you regardless, but I'll do some middle school love letter journaling about you if you do either. Head here to join my list of gorgeous subscribers.

10 tips on mastering awkward social situations — the daily taryn #8

This post was originally written in 2013 on a website that had an audience of one (me). It actually still holds up, so I sent it to my subscribers of the daily taryn, a daily email newsletter/writing project . Now's the perfect time to join, so I'll hold while you do so. Love u.



People are hard.

I have been in many social situations lately where I’ve been thrust into the feeding frenzy of meeting new people. Very few people, even those who categorize themselves as extroverts, thrive on meeting new people and mingling. Even if I don’t LOVE it, I’ve been told I handle myself quite well in these situations, likely because I have base-level manners and like to make others feel welcomed.

Through these countless situations, I’ve kept a mental note of things we do (consciously and unconsciously) that make us seem arrogant, uninterested, or just plain mean. The beauty of this comprehensive list is that it’s applicable to all types of people: introvert, prom king, hip hop dancer, milk man, and the class clown. This list also covers all types of stranger interactions, from waiting in line at Chipotle to accompanying a friend to a party where you quickly become the lone wolf.

Alas, 10 simple steps to handling social situations and being nice(r) to strangers:

1. First of foremost — ALWAYS remember that this social interaction (shopping at Nordstroms, sitting at a restaurant, being in an airplane, etc.) has an end point and will not take up the rest of your life. 

If you truly remember that, you’ll be more apt to give each interaction your full attention. The chances you see some of these people again are minuscule  and the only way people will remember you will be if you had a positive or negative interaction. Give people the attention they deserve. This too shall pass. 

2. Keep a smile on hand at all times. 

Many people enter rooms with faces that reflect their fear of interaction, with a scowl or absolutely no emotion at all. If you prepare your smile prior to walking through a door, it’s equipped and ready to be contagious. Who wants an unknown grump to walk into their home? Nobody. But who wants that smiling person? ME.

3. Be the first to introduce yourself. 

Everyone knows the harrowing feeling of standing in a group of 3-5 people while most of them know each other — except you. Stop wondering who will be the only nice one in the group to introduce themselves —DO IT FIRST. An easy lead in? “I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m _____.” Done. Tension broken.

4. Shake peoples hands (or hug if you’re feeling CRAZY). 

Don’t do the TERRIBLY AWKWARD FOR EVERYONE gesture where you literally wave at each other from 5 feet away. MOVE YOUR FEET PEOPLE.

5. Eye contact. Make it. 

I don’t know when exactly the turning point is in life, but people now refuse to look into each others eyes. Do you know how much more strife you bring into the situation if you’re the shifty-eyed weirdo who can’t look into the eyes of the person in front of you? I mean, don’t burn a hole in their retina with your unlocked stare, but look people in the eyes because it shows that you’re interested in what they are saying, even if it’s the guy at chipotle asking “brown or white.”

6. Put down the phone. 

I am 100% guilty as charged with this one. In uncomfortable situations, we are first to whip out our phones like we’re expecting POTUS to call- obsessing over our missed calls or any possible text conversations we can muster up. When you have your phone out, you’re basically telling everyone around you that you’re uninterested. Put it away- you’re not that important and you’re missing out on the conversations you could be having with real people that are constantly around you.

7. Be the first to ask questions (this goes for introverts too). 

Imagine you’re in a group of 4 and 2 of the people are in a conversation, where you quickly find you and the other person literally watching a conversation happen. Start one of your own! If you are uncomfortable talking about yourself, what better way to avoid it than ask questions about the other person. A technique I often use is what I like to call the Interview Technique: ask where they’re from, what they do, and what they did earlier today. It’s a triple whammy- you learn about someone new (and make them feel valuable while doing so!), you don’t have to talk about yourself, and you get to brush up your interviewing skills.

8. Laugh. Even if it’s not funny. 

The worst thing that happens in casual/quick conversations is when the other person, while talking, starts to laugh at something they say. You have no clue what’s happening or why they think it’s funny, but you cut the tension in half if you join them in giggling. This also goes for when you’re in line waiting for Chipotle and the coocoo lady in front of you makes some weird comment (to herself), laughs (at herself), and then suddenly includes you in her one-sided convo by looking at you. JUST SMILE OR GIGGLE OR SOMETHING. Quick.

9. Compliment people instead of judging them. 

This happens far more than it should. Some girl walks into the room and you immediately scowl because you’re jealous of how pretty she looks in that indie dress that you think you could never pull off. Of course, she ends up walking right past you and you don’t notice that you’re still scowling at her. She looks up, sees your face of disapproval and “screw you” and keeps walking. Interaction over- and it was terrible. COMPLIMENT HER DRESS! Stop being selfish! When she walks by, stop her and comment on how much you love her dress. Girls can be friends too! Who knew.

10. Lay down your too-cool pride. 

I believe that 100% of interactions (with friends, family, or strangers) can be improved by laying down your pride. Stop thinking that you deserve to be approached- approach people. Take off the blank look on your face that says you don’t really want to be here- smile. Don’t wait to be spoken to- speak. Engage. Create the positive interactions that you want to happen for you, because you’ll notice that once you reach out and initiate, even if you had to do it, the interaction is already worthwhile. Sure, you have to laugh at a few jokes that you don’t really enjoy, but you made somebody’s day. Put down the phone, smile, and make a new friend.

Hi. I can't believe you read this — it actually means the world to me. Now that you're on a roll of making me happy, I'd like to give you 2 options to keep the fun going. 1) If you'd share this with someone or a feed of someones, or 2) you joined my newsletter. If that's not your thing, I'll love you regardless, but I'll do some middle school love letter journaling about you if you do either. Head here to join my list of gorgeous subscribers.

"do what you love and you'll never work a day..." — the daily taryn #7

This post was originally written for subscribers of the daily taryn, a daily email newsletter/writing project . Now's the perfect time to join, so I'll hold while you do so. Love u.

We've all heard this quote: "Do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life." 

This quote is:
1. Responsible for a lot of people feeling like they haven't found the right job. Or passion. Or partner. 
2. Encouraging, sometimes. You might find comfort in the fact that someday, you'll find a job that you'll love so much, it won't feel like work. Sounds like magic, doesn't it? For work to not feel like work?
3. In my opinion, deeply wrong, and sorta damaging.

I've had so many jobs I've loved. I've taught tennis to kids. I've been a writer and reporter for a teen magazine. I now write and work on creative ideas for a creative company that I love. And ya know what? It always feels like work. And ya know why? Because.... it's.... work. It's your job. It's supposed to feel like work. 

Just because something feels like work doesn't mean it's not something worth loving. It's fun to work, and it's really fun to work hard. It's that much better when you're working hard at something you love. 

I get what the quote was going for — it's important to love what you do. But never working a day in my life? How fucking boring. 

Like, think about a relationship. You can really, really love someone and the relationship still requires hard work. I mean sure, don't work hard at a relationship with a person you don't love, but gosh — work as hard as possible with a person you do love. Somedays, it'll be hard to keep the relationship awesome. Somedays, it'll be so tough it actually feels harder than the job that gets you paid. But again — it doesn't mean it's not the "right" person for you. Just because something is hard or "feels like work" doesn't mean it's worth canning. 

Okay, end rant. 

Hi. I can't believe you read this — it actually means the world to me. Now that you're on a roll of making me happy, I'd like to give you 2 options to keep the fun going. 1) If you'd share this with someone or a feed of someones, or 2) you joined my newsletter. If that's not your thing, I'll love you regardless, but I'll do some middle school love letter journaling about you if you do either. Head here to join my list of gorgeous subscribers.

i feel bad for sunday — the daily taryn #6

This post was originally written for subscribers of the daily taryn, a daily email newsletter/writing project . Now's the perfect time to join, so I'll hold while you do so. Love u.

I feel very, very bad for Sunday. Actually, Monday too. They're just days, but people make them feel like they're half days. Cheap days. The days at the bottom of the barrel. First, you get the "sunday scaries" where you sadly run errands and sadly clean your house and sadly get ready for Monday. Then, you get the "monday blues" where you sadly work and sadly work out and sadly talk about your weekend as if years have passed since the freedom of your Saturday.

If Sundays and Mondays could feel (which, who knows?), I bet they'd be sad. They'd probably feel like parking cops, just doing their job but getting all the wrath of illegally parked drivers. They'd probably feel like pigeons, just trying to enjoy the pretty cities but listening to the world tell them they're disgusting and weird and made for they streets. They'd probably feel like a comedian bombing their set. A cop breaking up a barely-too-loud party. A principal addressing a bully. 

Sundays and Mondays are just trying to do their job. Let's be nicer to them. Let's thank them for what they are. Days to reflect on our weekends. Days to kickstart our weeks. Days to knock the hard things out so the easy things are all that's left. 

If you really think about it, Monday is your pre-weekend. I know, it's a stretch. 

Hope you had a lovely, not scary Sunday. And I really hope you have a dope Monday. Thank it for coming. How lucky are we to get another one?

Oh! I just got done replying to EVERY SINGLE EMAIL from wednesday (and those since then, too). You all are incredible - I'm stoked to hear you're liking this thing so far. Many have asked if they're still "allowed" to respond to the dailies, or if it's too overwhelming. YES - please reply! NO - not overwhelming. I love it. If you have a comment or thought or question about something I've said, hit that sweet sweet reply button and let it free.

Hi. I can't believe you read this — it actually means the world to me. Now that you're on a roll of making me happy, I'd like to give you 2 options to keep the fun going. 1) If you'd share this with someone or a feed of someones, or 2) you joined my newsletter. If that's not your thing, I'll love you regardless, but I'll do some middle school love letter journaling about you if you do either. Head here to join my list of gorgeous subscribers.

i hate my tongue — the daily taryn #5

This post was originally written for subscribers of the daily taryn, a daily email newsletter/writing project . Now's the perfect time to join, so I'll hold while you do so. Love u.

You know what? I hate my tongue. Is that a weird thing to hate? So be it. I hate mine.

I mean, it works. It can taste stuff and it fits in my mouth and it does all the right things, but I hate how it looks. It's not smooth like all the cool kids tongues — it's got some cracks and lines and not-normal-tongue traits. 

I always took myself to be a big "stick out your tongue in pictures" kinda gal — the cool type that's too cool to smile, so they throw their tongue out for added flare. I get the urge to do it often, but I only actually go through with it about 1/15 times. I'm just so annoyed by how it will look or what people will think. Possibly the funniest part about it all is that no one has ever said anything about it unless I've proactively brought it up — they likely haven't noticed, and I've just made it worse than it is. But for those that have noticed, thanks for.. holding your tongue ;)

It's pretty funny, huh? How I can dislike something so much about myself that it becomes 10x bigger than it really is. It becomes something that I'm certain others know about. Something people must hate too, I think. 

But. Nope. I'm doing that. I'm causing it to be a problem. I'm causing it to be big. I'm creating unnecessary meaning, and unnecessary suffering for myself. About my TONGUE. A thing that doesn't even sit outside for all to see — it only sees the daylight when I choose to let it. It kinda makes me feel sad for my poor little tongue, actually. Poor guy just wants to stay behind the scenes and do a fine job for me (which it does). If my tongue is reading this, thanks. I really do love you. 

I'm going to be nicer to my tongue, and in turn, myself. What body part, personality trait, or quirk about yourself could you be a bit nicer to? I'm sure there's something, and I'm sure they'd appreciate the break. 

Hi. I can't believe you read this — it actually means the world to me. Now that you're on a roll of making me happy, I'd like to give you 2 options to keep the fun going. 1) If you'd share this with someone or a feed of someones, or 2) you joined my newsletter. If that's not your thing, I'll love you regardless, but I'll do some middle school love letter journaling about you if you do either. Head here to join my list of gorgeous subscribers.

friday? wow, this thing really is daily — the daily taryn #4

This post was originally written for subscribers of the daily taryn, a daily email newsletter/writing project . Now's the perfect time to join, so I'll hold while you do so. Love u.

It's 8:11pm and omg, I'm having a nice day. I marched through a massive to-do list at work, knocked out 7 meetings (including a 4pm brainstorm featuring cocktails and wine), and found some time to get flowers for Kris (yes, these are sorry flowers for my assholery from TDT #2). 

Now we're sitting in bed with acne stickers (idk, something sephora had that supposedly clears trouble spots) sharing an expensive bottle of wine, about to get rocked by watching Beautiful Boy and snacking on postmated vegan ice cream. Yes, I'm fully aware of how ridiculous this sounds. 

I hope you're enjoying your night, or morning for those that are in other countries. I hope it's cozy and kind and filled with the ones you love. 

We're 4 days in and I'm already so damn inspired, I can't wait to keep going with The Daily Taryn. I'm taking a few hours tomorrow to get my website all set up with the goods to make it easier to share with others and link to past days notes. I'll also keep marching through my responses to your emails, which, thank GOD for you and the kind things and wild stories you're sharing. I can't believe the beauty of the people reading these every day. It makes me want to start a little community so you can all meet each other. 

Go enjoy your Friday and stop reading emails... or respond if you'd like to :) Any feedback -- these are hard to read or too short or too long or too EVERYTHING -- is much appreciated. Oh, and for those asking, my favorite show is Friday Night Lights. Even if you're not a football fan — watch 3 episodes and tell me you're not hooked. I dare you. 

(I just read this out loud to Kristina before sending and she says, "that's good! how long until Postmates gets here?")

Hi. I can't believe you read this — it actually means the world to me. Now that you're on a roll of making me happy, I'd like to give you 2 options to keep the fun going. 1) If you'd share this with someone or a feed of someones, or 2) you joined my newsletter. If that's not your thing, I'll love you regardless, but I'll do some middle school love letter journaling about you if you do either. Head here to join my list of gorgeous subscribers.

you know when you're in over your head??? — the daily taryn #2

This post was originally written for subscribers of the daily taryn, a daily email newsletter/writing project . Now's the perfect time to join, so I'll hold while you do so. Love u.

As the subject implies, today was a day of being fully in over my head. Without further ado, here's a series of 4 of the longest run-on sentence questions I've ever sent to anyone in the history of me: 

1. You know when you have one of those days when you wake up earlier than you wanted to and you're like hm am i hungover or did i just not get enough sleep or am i honestly actually someone that gets hangovers after 2 glasses of wine that I thought was really very fancy but was in fact really very cheap and now the "hangover" isn't it even worth it, especially because I'm working from home and have a few meetings to call into and am also babysitting my niece who is surprisingly sick but also still so surprisingly cute and you can't stop snuggling her while you watch Elf because she's so cute it burns, or am i catching her cold and that's what burning or am i actually seriously still hungover from the weirdly cheap wine???

2. You know when you have one of those days when you're moving through the airport after a 2 week trip home and have bags for literally days and are also carrying your girlfriend's bags but your girlfriend broke her 5th metatarsal (which you just found out existed) and has to use one of those weird knee scooters and it's really cute and also sad and also you realize you're not being as nice as you could be about the whole thing and you're actually probably being mean and grumpy instead of being nice and understanding and then you go through security and chuckle while she scoots through and then you're nice and snuggly again for a split second until you realize you're hungry and then you're mean again and you make your already sad girlfriend (because her foot) feel even sadder (because your attitude)???

3. On that note — why is it that when you have the opportunity to really show up for people and just really knock it out of the park with your patience and assistance and proactivity, sometimes you just can't and you become a mean version of yourself that honestly even surprises you because you've kinda been waiting for a chance to be ultra nice and ultra caring and instead you act ultra entitled and ultra jerky and just ultra stupid and selfish and you really realize it in the moment but some weird little monster in you actually can't and won't let you stop acting like a dick because you're already on that train and then the person you never wanted to hurt is the main person you're hurting and it's a stupid waste of everyone's time when you could've just worked extra hard to be extra nice and this night would've been much, much different???

4. You know when you're sitting on the plane writing your newsletter to send to hundreds of strangers and you're on a roll but you're a little self-conscious about what you're typing because it's so very personal and the actual stranger next to you is like 1.5 inches away and might be able to read what I'm writing but ironically, what I'm writing is being sent to a few hundred strangers that could honestly be her, so then you slow down a bit and start focusing on whatever free singing competition Southwest gives you access to and then you get off the plane and get dinner and get home and you're like "well shit, the thing I was writing is definitely not complete now" so instead of doing the normal thing of trying to finish it, you have an idea to write out what a cluster of a day your day was and write about that instead??? 

That's all for tonight. Thank you to every single one of you cuties who responded to my email last night — I always want you to respond to any email that means anything to you, but last night really blew me out of the water. The picture below is about a fourth of the responses, and I'm going to respond to every single one tonight and tomorrow:

I'm so done with today that I'm not going to proofread one word of whatever I just wrote. Enjoy : )

Hi. I can't believe you read this — it actually means the world to me. Now that you're on a roll of making me happy, I'd like to give you 2 options to keep the fun going. 1) If you'd share this with someone or a feed of someones, or 2) you joined my newsletter. If that's not your thing, I'll love you regardless, but I'll do some middle school love letter journaling about you if you do either. Head here to join my list of gorgeous subscribers.

hello. it's 2019 me — the daily taryn #1

This post was originally written for subscribers of the daily taryn, a daily email newsletter/writing project . Now's the perfect time to join, so I'll hold while you do so. Love u.



aaaaand she's back.

Oh my gosh. Hi! Happy new year! Happy January. Happy 2019. Happy 1st. Happy NIGHT ONE of The Daily Taryn part 2. 

For those who joined us last year, hi - I'm in love with you. Welcome home. 

For those joining for the first time on this go around, holy shit, hi. Thank you for joining. If you have no idea what you signed up for or why you're here, I have answers. You can learn everything you need to know about this newsletter from this little post here. 

Tonight will be quick for 3 reasons. 
1) It's the new year, and I hope to god you're still celebrating with people you love and not reading your emails.
2) I'm watching Dirty John and am basically not breathing. I hate scary, but somehow Kristina and I have watched EVERY EPISODE (all 6) straight today. I am... ill. But obsessed. I'm multitasking so I don't have to fully pay attention — it's not entirely working, because the soundtracks to these shows are scary as hell and Kristina holding her head and trying to watch between the cracks in her fingers is scary enough.
3) I've got a lot to share tomorrow. I'll be sharing my process for doing a 2018 recap, then walk you through how I turn my learnings into new year resolutions. 

IN THE MEANTIME, here's what I ask of you: Please respond to this (literally hit reply) and introduce yourself (or re-introduce yourself!) and share how you found this newsletter, ideas for topics, your all time favorite TV show or movie, and a random fact about you that I should definitely know. 

^This is mandatory. I love getting responses to emails, and it really makes this whole "emailing a bunch of people about my life" feel like I'm emailing people I know :)