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Generation Wh-Y (Not)

Generation Y - Christine Smeyers - C & The City

Millennial. It almost has a bad ring to it, doesn't it. It doesn't sound like something as positive as when they came up with the name when our generation came of age. When I speak of our Generation Y — another brilliant name they came up with — I speak of the 20-somethings trying to figure out life, step by step or step back by step back. Because honestly, we don't know what the fuck we're doing half the time, falling and stumbling and running hungover on the tracks of life, and the previous generations watch us closely from the...

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 What I did in Rotterdam you ask? Staring out of a window like it's nobody's business. Just kidding. Although I did spend the better half of my short city trip admiring the mighty view from my hotel window, and hanging around in the tub admiring the mighty view from my hotel window, and hanging around in bed admiring the mig- ...

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The Perks & Struggles of Being Vertically Untalented

[ezcol_1half] I love being short. About a solid 27% of the time. Just like I love working out when I shamelessly haven't been to the gym in 7 weeks; it feels good for a brief moment until you realize once again what a pain in the (sweaty) butt it is. At a solid 163cm or 5'4, the holy grail of Asos considers me just small enough to shop their wondrous 'petite collection' and so I consider myself a petite human being among our giant population that only seems to exist of supermodels walking the earth. And all because my body decided to maintain...

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A Beautiful Fucking Rainbow

The city is London. The place is a dark bar; jazz and loud whispers fill the room. The time is an ungodly hour in the middle of the night. The drink is a margarita. The man is tall, dark & handsome and the artist in him is intriguing. The ungodly hour turns into an even more ungodly morning, walking along the Thames with the sun rising above the sparkling water. The jazz music still buzzes through my head. I'm seeing beautifully colored rainbows scattered across the water. The city is London. And the man is mine.Reality turns into confusion and confusion becomes...

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