SoulCycle feels gross, is gross, and I'm grateful to have found it.

Everyone is such a mystery, yet we chug along so much of the time presuming we're all on the same page.

I always get super confused by the way we look at technology, because since when were all phone calls created equal? It's not like every text is the same or that all texts are human interactions that are compromised. I don't get how conduits somehow dictate sentiment.

I roll my eyes at the grandstanding blowhards who have 'fixed' themselves, but I keep up with the gizmos and apps that track people's various rhythms. I'm no lifelogger or body-hacker, but I'm curious, and I want to be in-tune enough to know what's really the matter so I can level up and be at my most awesome.

I'm great at leaving. I am less talented at getting left, though I should be better, given how much it's happened.

I love how British people call Asian people 'oriental' unless they're talking about Indian people, who get to be called Asian.

Home is where my house pants live. And they're hideous.

Never post boring back-to-back selfies.

I have horrible shoe hang-ups. Particularly when it comes to flats.

You always feel like a hack and a fraud when you're writing. It's just how it goes.

Try life as your own boss, on your own voyage. No daily commute. No salad bar at 12:15. No cc'ing about the meeting.

There's a really generous readership with YA.

For people who deal with anxiety or depression or can't be in large social groups cognitively, emotionally, or even physically, phones help bridge the gap.

Yes, Justin Bieber is a contrivance. Yes, Justin Bieber's lyrics are insipid - worse still, disingenuous. Yes, his tattoos stink. Yes, he's lousy at skateboarding. But what does any of this actually matter? In case you missed it, Bieber won.

Have passion, yes, but acknowledge that side projects are still work. They shake things up, just like switching up your workout helps you stay one step ahead of your torpid metabolism. They scramble the synapses.

Privateers, military contractors - these aren't pirates. They have bosses. Real pirates are sellswords on missions of their own making.

Never post food on your Instagram. Nobody cares, and only old people do it.

I like science a whole bunch, but I love 'The X-Files' more - I want to believe.

I love my mother a not-normal amount.

When I was small, I thought I was just cooler than my mom because of how foreign she is. She's really foreign. You'd think it would kill her to get store-bought snacks, she's that foreign.

When I was five, I compound-fractured my arm, pulverising my elbow.

Consider this: alms aside, Wikipedia is fueled by competitive pedantry and emo-ness. How great is that?

I cannot quantify the physics of friendships and do not know exactly how much intense pressure can be applied before these glittery, brittle bonds break.

In New York, you collect a thousand encounters a year, a passel of handshakes, a zillion air-kisses, and boatloads of business cards that you pitch into your purse and eventually deposit your chewing gum into. Amid this break-neck montage of glancing contacts, I'm tormented by the constant thrumming fear of being fingered as a flake.

Home is where I climb out of my mecha-suit-of-a-poised-persona and power down.

I love small-business owners, and I actually love the idea of vintage clothing, but I don't get when they pretend that the Internet doesn't exist or that other customers have never been to the whole rest of the country where you can rummage around and buy the same dang belt for a buck and a half.

If there was a button that I could push that would agog my brain to the level that I felt first seeing 'Avatar' in its entirety and another one for food pellets, I would die of starvation.

Rihanna's boots are too scared to look bad on Rihanna.

From the first time I harangued my mother into buying me a pair of platform sandals at the irascible and persistent age of 11, I've worn heels.

Join a Bikram-flow-yoga, Flywheel, or Pilates class so you can find spiritual oneness amid grunting socialite moms. Do whatever you want. Just, please, for the love of God, stop talking about it.

Do you know why we pay trainers and nutritionists? Because having to muster interest in the minor successes of someone else's journey toward pedestrian-ass healthiness is taxing and should be compensated.

LaCroix sparkling water is absolutely delicious.

The second single from 'Purpose,' Justin Bieber's fourth studio album, 'Sorry' is an infectious confection - a Dorito for your ears.

Part of me just wants 'Jane' magazine back, and 'Sassy,' too.

I'm a big believer in puking out all your thoughts in a single sitting and getting some version of the work down, because the alternative just prolongs the agony. The first draft is hideous and ajskdlkdfksjdfslfjk, but it's just a map for where the big blocks go.

My brother's in comics. I work in media.

As a consumer, I love superheroes.

I commit words to paper and the Internet for everyone to pick apart, so I think I tend to be a lot more cynical and dulled.

I'm definitely an indoor kid who's turned into an inside person.

Jockeying for a popularity position has been a valorized teen tradition since the notion of a discrete teen stage of life was invented.

I love New York, but sometimes New York is so mean to you.

The thing about living in New York as a writer is that you hit that age where it feels like everyone has a book all at the same time. It's like that one year where you're invited to twenty weddings.

I have a lot of respect for people who write a whole book because I've heard it will kill you.

Eventually, I just want to write wavy little short stories.

Hopefully, if I get enough of a fan army together, people will let me write fiction.

The thing that I find interesting about teens now is that no matter how desperate we seem to be taxonomically 'othering' them, for one reason or another - because the Internet, because whatever - I feel like a lot of the benchmarks and the experiences are, you know, same for teens through time immemorial.

Your mom is the first person you fall in love with, so it's loaded forever and carries all this baggage. There's almost always a communication barrier in place. In my case it's a language and cultural barrier, but other times, it's because your mother's love is conditional or because you're fundamentally different.

I've always been a texting advocate.