“Supporting other women is very fashionable and it never goes out of style.” - Terri McCullough

My body and head are still reeling from my short and sweet but jam-packed weekend in New York City for the 4^th annual Her Conference.

If you didn’t know that I write (and run social media) for Pitt’s Her Campus chapter let me tell you… I write for Pitt’s Her Campus chapter and run the social media. And if you don’t know what Her Campus is… WHY???

Her Campus is this wonderful and amazing online magazine that spawns from a national site, and branches out to chapters all across the world at different universities. After (attempting) to start a chapter at John Carroll (which they now have, yay!) I dove headfirst into HC Pitt my sophomore year… and I couldn’t be happier.

Not only have I met the most amazing girls on the team, some, whom I’m lucky enough to call my friends, I’ve really adjusted in my writer’s skin. I was able to toy with different voices and styles and have them read and absorbed, without receiving a grade. Now that’s a good deal. Before I even graduate, I can say I am a published author. How cool!

So, we packed up and drove from Pittsburgh to the Big Apple on Friday for my first ever conference, and the 2^nd trip to the city that tugged on my heartstrings the last time I left it.

Brooklyn... We go hard.

A photo posted by Abby Stubenbort (@abbystubenbort) on Jul 25, 2015 at 5:37pm PDT

The conference itself was SO COOL.

I attended panels like, “Does the Devil Really Wear Prada?: Life in an Entry Level Editorial Position” and “Freelancing Fiends: Life outside the 9-5” and “Beyond the ‘Like’: Careers in Social Media.” The panelists were smart and loved their jobs and really helped us get a good look at their careers.

I listened to speakers like Neha Gandhi, VP of editorial strategy of Refinery 29, who gave us tips on how to progress our careers and navigate ourselves to success.

I sat amazed listening to Terri McCullough of No Ceilings, as she sentence after sentence encouraged us to take a stand and support each other to have feminism reach a global level of equality.

I was lucky enough to attend a panel where one of my favorite Cosmo writers, Amy Odell, was a panelist. Amy completely revolutionized Cosmopolitan’s website and I even wrote a piece on it last year. She’s what you can say are my #careergoals. It was my mini star-struck moment of the weekend. (Sadly, no Vanessa Hudgens or Taylor Swift sightings, the OG Queens of New York.)

I even met Carly and Nessa of Girl Code, both hilarious and absolutely, teeth-achingly sweet.

Carly and Nessa from Girl Code are the nicest and sweetest humans?! 💕 #herconference

A photo posted by Abby Stubenbort (@abbystubenbort) on Jul 25, 2015 at 11:31am PDT

Women are amazing. Every woman that spoke left my heart beating fast and my hands twitching, wanting to start moving forward, to hit the ground and sprint towards the top of my career. My notes are a scrambled mess of purple lines zigging and zagging around the page haphazardly because my pen couldn’t keep up because I wanted to write down everything they were saying. Their words are my bible.

Entertainment and media is a tough field. You need to hustle. You need to work. You need to strive to be the best of the best... but sometimes it’s not enough. Lisa Arbetter, editor of People StyleWatch told us, “Some people are just smarter than you. They just are.” And you need to accept it and move on. Life is going to keep moving.

I learned so much this weekend. I gained so much insight on the careers potentially ahead of me and how to get there. I learned tricks and techniques to make me stand out in a crowd. But most importantly, I learned about my self-worth.

Being surrounded by these influential and smart women that are my age and are willing to improve themselves and the world, made me feel so inspired. I want to write more. I want to improve myself. I want to be the best version of myself.

I want to thank Her Campus for giving me the opportunities that they have, without even knowing.

 I cannot wait for my future. And I hope you’ll come along with me.

Always,

abby

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When your brain is just #done & my newfound love of Furries

I'm pretty good at losing my cool at a ridiculous speed. I practically burst into a tiny fiery ball of frustration with hardly any warning. Like today when my computer decided to stop being a computer and start being my arch-nemesis.

Sign one is Severe Attitude. As in, if you dare talk to me while I am Stressing, I will eat you alive with vitriolic, acidic responses, that are usually questions or monosyllabic. Like this conversation from today:

Mom: You get your own room and bathroom on vacation!
Me: *furiously trying to unfreeze computer* k.
M: Yeah the guy called me back...
Me: Okkkkkkk??????? *does the eye squint thing, as if saying 'anything else to waste my time?'

Sign two is Ignore Completely. This one speaks for itself.

Mom: I'm making hot dogs for dinner.
Me: .....
Mom: or hamburgers, whatever one you want.
Me: .................
Mom: Alright, dinner will be ready in an hour.
Me: ............... !!!!!!!

Sign three, the final sign, is System Shut Down, i.e. loss of motor skills, ability to form complete sentences, and usually, yelling.

Me: *to myself* You stupid, piece of sh*t computer, why aren't you working, oh my god, I'm going to..... UGHHHH. I AM SO MAD, OH MY GOD. I'M GOING TO THROW YOU OUT A WINDOW, I AM SO MAD, I AM SO MAD, I AM SO MAD, etc.

This is then followed by hysterical sobbing.

So, yeah, today was super annoying. I fought all day with my computer, trying to make a video, which in turn clogged up all remaining memory in my computer, which then slowed it down, which then decided to have every app have a pop-up at once telling me my space is full, which led to me dying.

I fixed it. I also ordered an external hard drive in a red-visioned hysteria.

It all comes down to perspective. My life is digital. I mean, seriously. My college major in the 21st century is digital media. I run social media for my club at school. My job relies on digital video and social media. Every paper I've ever written is digital. Once my laptop goes up in flames, I go up in flames.

So, it makes sense for me to freak out, right? Well, not really, apparently. My mom was yelling at me for yelling at my computer which then made me yell at my mom for yelling at me for yelling at my computer. But, I don't think she truly realizes that it would be a Big Deal if my computer died. I would be SOL.

I hate how addicted/reliant I am on my computer, but not really. If it really did bother me, I would find other hobbies other than... well, this. But alas, I'm digi-chic, what can I say.

I went to the furries yesterday. How's that for a segue.

The video I was trying to make earlier today, was a video from the Furry parade for my job. Every year, (since 2006) Anthrocon is held here in Pittsburgh and it starts raining cats and dogs (and bears, and foxes, and birds, and wolves, etc.)

I fell in love with the furries yesterday. They are some the sweetest and nicest people, and this was only from my experience at the parade. I've never seen so many people, so unabashedly themselves. With over 1000 some critters walking the parade, I was truly amazed. I could feel the happiness just radiating off of them. Can you imagine for being mocked and ridiculed for something that is a part of you? Something that brings you happiness?

I loved every minute of this parade. I felt so drawn to them -- so invested and empathetic. The thrill and exhilaration they must have felt with thousands of people lining the convention center to cheer them on, must have felt so special. 

I love the uniqueness and creativity that builds the foundation of this con. There truly is nothing like it. It makes me upset when people recoil from them because they don't know anything about them and they're not willing to learn. It saddens me that people make such hateful and crude assumptions because to them, it's not "normal."

Can you imagine a world where we all were Normal?

I love anyone who wants to break social norms. I wanted to shout middle school motivational posters during the parade; Be Who You Are! No One Else Is You But You! Be The Best Version of Yourself! You Are Special! I felt so warm and bubbly and light that I could float, float, float... Just from the high from the parade.

Think I'm crazy? Go somewhere where you're getting the rawest and most vulnerable version of a giant group of people in their element. Go where you can see people for who they are, without the walls we put up to be Socially Aware. Go and tell me that you don't want to hug every single one of them and also cry.

As I mentioned in my last post, I'm still building my mosaic. I still am figuring out who I am. I am opening myself up to new and different and exciting. I am stripping myself bare and vulnerable, so I can experience newness and freshness, without judgments clouding my thoughts. 

I want to exist in a positive world. I want to exist where people just love and love and love. I want to exist in a world where a girl can shave her head and not be mocked for losing her "femininity." I want to exist in a world where a boy can be interested in makeup and fashion and not be subjected to homophobic slurs and sexuality assumptions. I want to exist in a world where people can wear their fursuits and proudly talk about their interest in the furry community... because, what these all come down to is individuality. Every individual is beautiful and special. Every single one.

At the risk of sounding sappy and guidance counselorly, I'll stop babbling... but self-love is important. I'm working on it. I hope you are too.

Always,

A 

My Comeback: "Pseudo" Adulthood and the Art of Getting By -- My graceful ascent into the notorious "20-somethings."

I turned 21 two weeks ago. I wish I could say that it was Instagram Top Page worthy -- you know, the cute girls in a dark club wearing those plastic glowing necklaces, with a drink in their hands, smiling with their eyes shut, flinging their hair super sexily all over the place. But it wasn't. I, apparently, spent most of it puking.

I don't remember most of it, if I'm being honest. And the next day, my stomach wanted to remind me what I did -- time after time after time after time.... you get the point.

But now I'm "freshly 21," as the bartender at the baseball game told me, and I'm still revelling in the fact that people want to see my ID.

"Yes!" I'll shriek at the waitress/casino guard/bartender/any poor soul who asks if I'm 21. I'll whip out my wallet with gusto, pull out that tiny Rectangular Card of Validation, and thrust it into the face of the bored civilian, puffing out my chest as if I'm saying, "Yeah, go ahead. Tilt that bad boy around and see the shiny plastic layer on top. That's the real deal. I'm a grownup, B*tch."

But how long will this excitement last? Will I remain a "cute" short girl my whole life? Into my 40s? Lugging my caravan of children around? Getting ID'd no matter where I go? Bars? Casinos? Car Rentals????? Will I ever peak adulthood??????? Will I ever become a real person!?!??!

From what I've read in listicle* after listicle on Cosmo and Buzzfeed, 20-somethings are a glorified, manic pixie dream. Everyone seems to romanticize the I-Have-No-Money-Or-Food-Or-Stable-Job-Or-Relationship-But-Life-Is-Great that I see in almost every "indie**" flick nowadays. But I don't want to be there. The unknown terrifies me. Not knowing if I'll have an income, terrifies me. I need money! I was raised in a generation where we're seen as gluttonous, self-obsessed tyrants, but yet everyone hounds into us how we need to Save! Save! Save! and everything is so expensive. So how much of our money, is really benefitting the economy, right? When I need to pick up student loans for my grad degree, after my parents so wonderfully, amazingly, supportively, adverbially, paid for my undergrad, I don't see myself going out and spending all this cash that would qualify me as gluttonous, self-obsessed, tyrannical, etc.

Where am I going with this? I don't know.

I feel older. I started this blog when I was a pimply, hormonal, confused 16-year-old thumping away on my Peptobismal painted Dell laptop. When the most horrifying thing to happen to me was a B on a paper.

I could include a boring anecdote here about how I've grown over the years, mentally, emotionally, academically, how I've really stapled down my "writer's voice" and how I have a vague idea what The Future holds behind its thin curtain. But I won't. Cause... ehhhhh. Do you care? Does anyone care?

I find myself to be quite self-deprecating. I'm working on it. I used to take compliments and put them in my back pocket and let them warm the soul, happy that someone thought I was Nice/Funny/Kind/Smart/Energetic/Blah blah blah bleeeeehhhhhh. Now I shy away from them as if they're a poisonous, foot long, tarantula, baring it's blood-coated fangs at me about to tear my flesh from my body. Too visual? This is coming from the aracnaphobe, mind you.

I'm so afraid of rejection. So, so, so afraid of rejection. I can't handle "mean." Mean is such multilayered definition -- and I'm terrified of every oniony layer. I don't know when I reached this stage. I was a child actor, goddammit. I was faced with rejection since I was a tiny baby in some hospital commercial. I was the envy of all the other child actor babies. And then I went on to be the cute-faced, musical theater toddler, singing songs and shuffle-ball-changing my way around the world, as if this was gonna last forever.

Then I hit puberty and hoooorrrrrmoooones. I've always been a ??????????????? person. What that means is I know a lot but not really. I can memorize vocab definitions as if I'm the Lebron of vocabulary. I can analyze the sh*t out of any short story and probably find some other literary device that is woven so deep within the binding, that it probably doesn't even exist, but I'm so confident, you'll believe me. But when it comes to me... Abby.... I'm a big case of ????????????.

I change what I like at an almost constant rate. People, food, music, clothes, hobbies, perfume scents. I see this as extremely selfish. I'm working on it. But because of this, I find myself thinking I'm not good enough. Why don't you know what you want to do, Abby? Why aren't you a better writer, Abby? Why don't you know more about film, Abby? Why do you suck, Abby? Why even attempt to have a brighter future, Abby? Stop, Abby!!! You're the worst, Abby! BOOOOOO, ABBY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I put on this front of Hell Yeah, Confident Girl, but in reality, I'm just as big of a mess as the next college-aged person. I love this. I love when you say this to An Adult, and they say, "Oh, of course," as they tilt their head to the side and give a close-lipped smile. "No one knows what they want to do at this age!" BUT YET, we have very important life decisions to make?! And when we don't know what to do, we're humiliated for it and called gluttonous, self-obsessed tyrants!? Who made these rules?

I'm just happy I'm not from Belgium and have to make these decisions in 7th grade. ***

I'm working on a new positive outlook. I'm scrubbing away the negativity -- no more talking smack, no more critiquing random people on the street, no more Tumblr Social Justice. I don't care. Why do I care? This is me. This is Abby.

During my time in London, I had a loooooooot of time to think about me and life and choices and growing up. I realized that I need to stop living in the outline of a "20-Something." I need to live as just me.

I read Amy Poehler's Yes Please and it was an amazing, funny, beautifully crafted look into life from someone who worked and worked to be where she is. I have so much respect for Amy and look to her for inspiration time and time again. I want to be a perfect embodiment of Real Amy and Leslie Knope -- who in turn, I think, carries a lot more Amy then I think she realizes.

Anyways. Amy talked a lot about coming to terms with yourself -- your currency. She says,

I had already made a decision early on that I would be a plain girl with tons of personality, and accepting it made everything a lot easier. If you are lucky, there is a moment in your life when you have some say as to what your currency is going to be. I decided early on it was not going to be my looks..... Decide what your currency is early. Let go of what you will never have. People who do this are happier and sexier, (Yes Please, pg. 20-21.)

This hit me like a freight train on fire. Like my hobbies and perfume preference, I change Abby Preference a lot, too. I went through my Skater Girl Phase, circa 2009. I went through my Internet Geek Girl Phase, circa 2011. I went through my Grunge Phase, circa 2014. Those phases, mixed in with my hobbies and likes and dislikes form a giant soupy, sludgy pot of self-esteem issues.

I don't want to say I'm ugly... mostly because that's going to come off as a cry of attention. But, also because I look exactly like my mother, but I find her beautiful and womanly, where I find myself just... belchhhhh. Some may say it's because my relationship with the male gender is so confusing and weird and always ends up with me not feeling like enough because The Boy Is Bored and moves onto to another girl.... it's almost non-existant.

But I say, because it was up until... oh, I don't know, maybe, April? I had no idea who I was. I still am piecing together me, but I'm getting there. I've finally accepted that I'm never going to be an Instagram Model... a Really Pretty Person. I will never, ever, be able to put that perfect selfie up, with dewy, glowing, sun-kissed skin, with perfect, pink, perky lips, stomach so tight you can have a full dinner spread on it, and booty so firm, shorts look like they were made to be worn by dat ass.

It's just not me. I was made with curves on curves, and not those size 00 curves. I have like, a normal Kim Kardashian body.

I'm strive for comedy. I love to make people laugh. I can't do serious. Working for a news station, I think, maybe, I'd want to pursue a journalism career. Nope. Too many dying dogs, too many house fires, too many sad, serious things.

I love music, but I'm no where talented enough to be successful in it. I love to sing, but I know there are millions of talented girls who will be the Next Broadway Star, and it won't be Abigail Stubenbort.

I love makeup and hair stuff, but refer back to Really Pretty Person. I will never be the prime candidate for Beauty Gurus.

So where does that leave me? I love to make videos. I love to write (but ONLY when I want to write.) I love to read, but go through phases with binge reading.

I'm like pieces of Old Abby and New Abby being glued together, like a beautiful Abby Mosaic. I am brought to life by the mistakes Old Abby made, with knowledge New Abby posesses. I am a cultimation of Old Abby's failed endeavours with New Abby's Life Perspective. I am me. I am put together carefully and strategically, so that when the right light hits, I glow. I am a mosaic.

I want to be This Abby that Current Abby visualises -- someone who is happy and successful and loves life and everything around her. I'm working on that during my ascent into the 20-somethings.

I have so much more to learn and do and I want to creatively express myself more. I want to stop thinking of What Ifs and squish myself into the outline of someone else. I want to be that successful person, while creating things that will inspire my little cousins who watch my videos. I want to be their idol.

Hello, welcome to my blog. My name is Abby.

Always,

A





* List article. Listicle.

**Are indie flicks even real? now that then Indie is In? What qualifies as "indie?"

*** We had a foreign Exchange student my senior year of high school. He said he had to pick what he wanted to do FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE in 7th grade. I still cry for those poor children. Hope ya picked the right one, you prepubescent babies.

Goodbye, London

It’s my last night in London.

I’m sat here in my flat on Brendon street, nestled behind Edgware Road, thinking through everything I brought to London, and making sure everything is packed and my bags are, hopefully, underweight. Praying all stages of travelling goes according to plan, and dreading the feeling of having to wake up at 3:30 in the morning.

London changed my life. I rode The Eye last night with my flatmate, Tara, and I started tearing up. Through this entire experience I thought this experience wasn’t *all that.* I felt isolated, confused, lost, scared, and totally unlike myself. I was lost and trapped and this bustling city was driving me into the ground.

But being on top of London, looking down and being able to name nearly every section and certain buildings, I felt so proud of myself. I conquered a foreign city. I learned a new transportation city, had a rough map sketched into my brain, gave directions to tourists… I lived London. I think back to that romanticized version of London I thought I was going to be experiencing. And on the Eye, that’s the version I saw… the lights from Southbank twinkling in the black water of the Thames, the double-decker busses, zooming in and out of traffic, their headlights forming a glow on the bridges. London is beautiful. But it’s so much more than the postcard. You learn to love it for what it is – a Global city.

Study abroad is a difficult concept to comprehend. You literally take a very small segment of your life and plop it somewhere else, putting your “real” life on hold for a few months. Then, you’re forced to create an entirely new version of you, existing out of a suitcase and a backpack. You meet a lot of temporary people in study abroad. Professors, classmates, administration – people you’ll never see again. The feeling of temporary is inescapable. But you learn to adjust to this temporary life. You learn to embrace the “Do it while you can” mindset.

Coming here, for the first time in my life, I was absolutely terrified. I had no idea what to expect. Travelling with one of my best friends made it survivable. I remember our faces when we sat down on our giant plane in Chicago, bunkering down for the flight. We were so scared… but we’re new people. We’ve experienced so much. We’ve learned so much, I don’t even know where to begin.

And London, it’s because of you.

Thank you, London, for your aggravatingly aggressive rush hour, being smashed against doors and railings on trains.

Thank you, London, for making me feel like I’ve been playing a real-life version of Frogger for the past 3 and a half months.

Thank you, London, for your angry glares at my “loud” American voice on the train.

Thank you, London, for your ninja Spring, growing and sprouting beautiful fountains of colors in your gardens overnight,

Thank you, London, for your no-leash laws in parks, where dogs of every shape and size bound and toddle around, always making me giggle.

Thank you, London, for your delicious cookie section, and enlightening me on the genius idea of dunkin’ a biscuit in your cuppa. (Hail Digestives.)

Thank you, London, for your beautiful architecture and your rich deep history, spanning further than I could ever imagine.

Thank you, London, for teaching me more about myself than I would have ever been able to learn in my comfort zone.

Thank you, London, for making me feel like a braver, stronger, better person. 

Thank you, London.

And for now, goodbye.

Love endlessly,

Abby

I left my heart in Ireland

This weekend I travelled to my Motherland -- Ireland. It was the one country I said I had to go to when I came here. The only country I cared about travelling to.

And it changed my life.

We had a late flight Thursday night, and got into Dublin around 11:15. We took a bus to the hostel (after having met our roomies [but not knowing at the time]) and got there around midnight-ish. And it was the COOLEST place ever. Google Generator Hostel, Dublin. Here, I did it for you. There was music and bar and cool lights and it felt so amazing just to have this lively atmosphere, bursting at the seams.

We went to bed after getting to know our bus-pals, ending up roommates from JMU/IU. They were so nice, and I was just so excited to begin our adventure.

Friday morning we had a walking tour of the city followed by lunch at this pub called O'Neils. I had a DELICIOUS traditional Irish stew, and just for laughs, got a pint of Smithwick's cause it reminded me of my dad (lol). It was so good, and I felt so full and happy.

Then we went to the Guinness Storehouse and I learned the "proper" way to pour a pint o' Guinness. Then, we obviously got to drink it. Even though Guinness is an... acquired taste... one I'm not particularly fond of and it still hasn't grown on me, I downed it anyways.

Then we went to a pub crawl. The highlight of my night was for sure going back to O'Neil's where there were Irish stepdancers and a traditional Irish band. And I felt SO happy. It reminded me of St. Patrick's Day with my family, jumping from pub to pub, dancing to Irish music and listening to the pipes and enjoying the parade.


We wrapped the night up not too, too late cause we had an early start the next day to the Cliffs of Moher.

I was changed at the Cliffs of Moher. How ominous sounding. The cliffs took my breath away. It was so nice to be in the present of NATURE. And not loud busses, bustling people, honking horns. Just the cliffs, the water, and me. The air was crisp and cool on my throat. The sun was beating down, warming my whole body. I felt content. No... I felt alive.

I've mentioned before how I wasn't loving London as much as I had hoped. And I'm realizing now... London isn't my dream city. I've thought it was for as long as I can remember. I'm not a big city girl like I thought I was. Ireland is my happy place.

Though I'm learning to adjust to living in London more and more everyday, it's more of "home base" for me, as Lexi called it. I live there. I study there. I do stuff there. But, I don't think it's my "fit." And I'm happy Ireland was able to solidify that for me.

I've already learned so much about myself these past few weeks. And I'm finally accepting that. It's okay for me to not be entirely thrilled with where I am. And, obviously, I'm not taking advantage of it in the slightest. I don't regret my decision... but because it's taught me about myself.

Standing on those cliffs... looking out at the stretch of sparkling blue water, watching the waves crest and build and break against the rocks... spilling out into foam and being pulled back into the abyss... I realized that this is living. This freedom. This beauty... these are the moments in life that people cherish. I will never, ever forget my time on the cliffs.

I will never forget driving through the Irish countryside, marvelling at the beauty nestled in these tiny, winding roads. The warming feeling of seeing baby lambs, trotting through fields.

I will never forget Galway, and the tiny, Irish shops packed on top of each other filled with beautiful, crafted objects.

I will never forget the bachelor party and drunk Frenchmen we befriended at O'Neil's... learning Gaelic and clapping along to the dancers, just living in the moment.

I will never forget the kindness of the Irish. The acceptance I felt being there. I felt complete.

This isn't an hate letter to England in any means. It truly is a wonderful country... I just need to leave the city and see what else it has to offer me.

Ireland was the happiest I've been in a month. I've been gone for a month. My parents will be here in 2 weeks... and then spring break... and then a little under 50 days. Time is flying. I'm learning to take things day by day.

This weekend taught me so many things about life, learning, and existing. I am so blessed to be living this life.

Here's to Ireland -- you've changed me. Thanks for being happy, drunk, and unconditionally welcoming.