The Evolution of Post Grad Friendships

My main squeeze. Twelve years strong.

Moments ago, I was going to pour on to this page many scathing words about how my life feels like is a total mess right now. And, then I remembered a text my best friend sent me last night so I decided to save my lamentations for another evening.

In June, I wrote a post entitled “The Dissolution of Post Grad Friendships,” tackling the sober reality of how things change, people grow apart, and nothing lasts forever. Or, something like that. But a few weeks ago, I jotted on my white board full of ideas (yes, I have a white board full of ideas in my bedroom; didn’t think I was that sexy, now, did you?) ”The Evolution of Post Grad Friendships” because a happier, less bitter Tyece would like to believe that not all relationships dissolve. Some evolve.

The story goes a little something like this: Mills (one of her many names) was the new kid three weeks in and she sat behind me in 6th grade math class. I had box braids down my back so obviously, I was the shiznit and couldn’t be bothered with newbies; I had my own agenda that involved a 6th grade boy. Somehow, box braids aside, we got to talking. She will tell you she invited me to her birthday party and I didn’t show up which angered her poor 6th grade heart to no end; I will tell you I have absolutely no recollection of that invitation. Nonetheless, we became friends.

And, as I wrote in an award-winning 6th grade essay, the rest is history.

Twelve years have ebbed and flowed. We’ve cried. We’ve fought. I may have threatened to punch her in the face the night of college graduation; I believe my exact words were “pop you in the face” but anyone who knows me knows I can’t pop a balloon, let alone another human being. We’ve shared secrets and sorrows and salacious stories. I have prayed no one ever hacks our texts because these exchanges are not rated PG, kids.  But, more importantly, we have laughed. We have laughed until we’ve cried, until we’re curled on the floor not even remembering the impetus of our laughter. I call her when I’m freaking out about moving (yesterday) and she tells me two weekends to pack a one-bedroom apartment is really more than enough time. We’ve seen each other through boyfriends and break-ups, ex-boyfriends and make-ups, and then more break-ups. She’s taught me how to have an opinion but respect other people’s rights to make their choices and live through the tides of their own lives. She has talked me through my life’s deepest trenches. I could write 5,000 more words but just know our twelve-year friendship is one of my life’s most prized gems.

Friendships grow and expand and sometimes contract, but often times, they evolve. They don’t have a set beginning and end, a definitive point at which they’ve exhausted their potential. Truly amazing friendships are endless rubber bands that stretch along with the people in them. Just a few weeks ago, with another friend, I burst in to tears, telling her how proud I was of the choices she has made while navigating a thorny post-grad existence. Me? Crying? About someone else growing up? Yes, clearly this is an evolution of sorts.

And, then there are my sisters who are as much a part of me as my own DNA. But, I know they will require a separate blog post so I’ll just pencil that in. (Love you, guys.)

I believe I’ll see my friends through boyfriends and fiances and husbands. I believe I’ll witness fat bellies that turn in to babies. I believe I will watch them claw their way up the corporate ladder or find peace in a quiet suburban existence or take over the effing planet; whatever they want. Because that is what friendship is. Evolution.



Somebody That I Used To Know: A Blog Post

A friend of mine pointed out via Twitter yesterday that I was a little attached to Gotye’s  I was caught red-handed. I’ve been hooked on the song ever since Blaine belted it out to his older brother in a heart-wrenching albeit awkward tribute to their severed brotherhood. I’ve tweeted the song’s signature lyrics at least once and also plastered them on my Tumblr blog, a much less cool blog than the one you’re currently reading. Yes, it’s true. More than Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep” or Rihanna’s “We Found Love,” Gotye’s lyrics are a bit haunting and far too personal.

Music has an uncanny ability to make our minds and hearts swivel back to the good old days and reminisce about love lost, no matter how much we know we have progressed. And, that’s what happens when I hear the song. “Now you’re just somebody that I used to know.” Because, in the end, that’s what it is when two people are together and then they are, well, not. It’s simple. It’s raw. It’s real.

I may later kick myself for writing about you as my writing is one of the most important things to me in the entire universe and memorializing you on this blog feels like a regression of sorts. But, it’s 11pm, I had a glass of wine, so damnit, I’m going to write this.

You were my life’s greatest natural disaster. You came through, tore everything apart until it was unrecognizable, and left. My existence would never look or feel or taste the same once you exited. I used to mourn this fact but now I’m eternally grateful for it. I could think back to the good times or the bad times or just the ordinary times. But, two years stand between then and now. And, that’s what’s so eerie. Two whole years. The last time we caught up it was in that prescriptive, maladroit way that old lovers do, as though they are incapable of holding an adult conversation without littering it with “I love you” or “I miss you.” And though we promised one another we would remain friends, we never did. It wasn’t the first promise we broke but something tells me, it was probably the last.

Two whole years. There have been graduations and broken hearts, cross-country moves and new jobs. Friends have passed away; nieces have grown up. You have a year left of law school. I had the hardest year of my life. You may be engaged. I’m…well, not engaged, that’s for sure. There was a time when you knew everything from the grade on my latest midterm to the name of the parlor where I got my second tattoo. We shared everything and now we know nothing.

I tell myself it is better this way. Or, at least it feels better this way. I needed this space to stretch. To mess up. To navigate the lightless caves of life and come out scathed but so much better. There wasn’t much of a friendship in our future because to be friends, liking each other is probably a requirement. And, I’m not sure if we ever liked each other or if we just fell hard and long and fast, ignoring the flashing red flags and repercussions. Nonetheless, you cross my mind and I’m hit with the reality that we are two different people now with two different lives.The intersection that once brought our paths together turned in to a fork in the road. 

Now you’re just somebody that I used to know.

And, maybe I should whisper a quiet prayer of gratitutde to the heavens for that.




Confessions of a Cool Kid: Laura Saur

I met Laura (last name pronounced “so”) during my sophomore year of undergrad when she moved in to a crowded triple across the hall from me. Over a few semesters, particularly the last ones when she and I (and two other homies) shared the best apartment known to mankind, I got to know Laura as many things–a chef, a social butterfly, and a J Crew aficionado among other things. Today, Laura is a personal stylist for J. Crew, carving a beautiful beginning path for herself in the fashion industry. Check out the confessions of this cool kid.

Age: 22

Current Job: Personal Stylist for J.Crew

Any side hustles? Not as of now, but when I can find more time (and someone to help me photograph outfits) I would love to start a fashion blog.

What spurred you to step in to the fashion industry? Originally during undergrad my mind was set on nursing/the healthcare field but it wasn’t until after I received a bachelor’s and months later submitted my first nursing school application that I realized it just wasn’t for me. It was not a career I was passionate about or could see myself being happy with and nursing is not a career to take lightly. It was in college when I think I started narrowing down my personal style and my older sister and friends had always commented on how I have such an eye for detail that they started to turn to me for fashion advice. My sister always said to me that she could see me as a personal shopper because I’m honest, decisive, and I can tell what fits or compliments a person’s body type etc. I sat myself down one day and took a lot of time to really think about what it is that I love doing and what makes me happy. I basically started looking back to what I do with my free time (a.k.a the time I spend procrastinating) and realized that I fill that time with reading a lot of fashion blogs, pinning my favorite fashion finds on Pinterest, or keeping up with the trends on Once I realized I wanted to get my foot in the door for the fashion industry, I knew the first step to take was to start in retail. I applied to one of my favorite stores, J.Crew, and was initially hired as a Sales Associate but had my eye on the Personal Shopper position. After a little less than three months with the company, my boss had taken me on as one of the newest Personal Shoppers!

Where do you see yourself in 10 years? Of course I see myself living in Manhattan, working as a buyer for Barney’s New York or Bloomingdales (which will include traveling the world to find the best quality fashion pieces and trends), and having a styling gig on the side for movies or tv shows! It’s the dream I’m trying to make my reality.

Three things you never leave home without:

1. My iPod/iPhone for music. Can’t get through my day without an up-beat playlist to listen to on my way to and from work.

2. Fresh Sugar Rose Tinted Lip Treatment. It’s amazing. It moisturizes perfectly for kissable lips and adds a rosy tint of color.

3. Bandaids–for when my toes blister in my heels during the times I choose fashion over comfort :)
Advice for up-and-coming fashionistas: This might sound like a typical answer but it’s one of the pieces of advice that is so key and really helps: networking! You have to be a little fearless by just putting yourself out there and take notice of people around you, kindly acknowledge them, start up conversation and you never know what sort of helpful and interesting information you will discover about this person. Share your passion with them and more times than not, they will most likely know someone who knows someone who works in the fashion industry. Save their contact information and follow through after the meet up. Following through is an even more important part of the process of networking; you may be a little hesitant at first but when you keep your eye on the prize you’ll be opening doors to many more opportunities.

Your daily/life mantra: If you don’t build your dream, someone will hire you to help build theirs. –Tony Gaskins

Your fashion inspirations: Rachel Zoe, Emily Schuman (blogger for Cupcakes and Cashmere), Olivia Palermo (simple chic and classy look. pretty much what I would describe my personal style as), Diane Von Furstenburg (completely obsessed with her bright color patterns)

Anything else? I remember saying to my oldest brother (who my Mom wanted to be a doctor but instead he chose a career he loves, software engineering, and is so successful with it) that I guess I just went with the idea of nursing because it’s a career I thought people would respect me for and that others may think fashion is just a joke. But he said to me, “People will respect you more for pursuing your dream and doing something you love. They will find it admirable of you.” I loved that advice.

How can we get in touch with you?

Confessions of a Cool Kid is the Twenties Unscripted profile series that features, well, people doing cool things. If you or someone you know is a cool kid, hit me up at

The First Post-Grad Year: A Diploma of its Own

A few weeks ago, I wrote a commencement speech of sorts for the Class of 2012.

But, Class of 2011, this one is for you.

It was exactly one year ago today that I donned an overpriced cap and gown and sat through graduation, restless because I accidentally left my biggest distraction, my Blackberry, in my car and uninformed as everyone else tweeted away about the eccentricities of the ceremony. I’m not sure if that day even counts as a graduation.  I didn’t “walk the stage” until the following day in a smaller ceremony while nursing a hangover thanks to what seemed like a brilliant idea the evening before to sip vodka from a McDonalds kiddie cup.

I thought May 20, 2012 would be a day of mourning as I accepted my permanent residence in the world of adulthood. I thought today would merit all-black garb, as I relinquished the word “just” from the term “I just graduated.” It wasn’t until I stumbled upon Katie Crowe’s article, “Twentyhood: The Dreaded Anniversary” that I realized today is a celebration of its own. (Katie and I shared a Journalism 100 class freshman year. Maybe an orientation class, too. Either way, I love the chance to shamelessly plug an up-and-coming journalist.)

The first year after college is arguably the hardest. I can’t speak for all of the other years because, well, I haven’t lived through those. I remember talking to one of my best friends, who’s a year older than me, throughout my senior year. While I rambled about random hookups, he interjected lamentations about sitting at a desk all day and going to bed at some insanely early time. I listened but his words were never tangible, as is the case when two people talk about something that only one person has experienced. Now, his words mean more than ever.

My first post-grad year catapulted me in to a whirl of work, residence in two different cities, hail drops of personal tragedy, and motherhood to a paranoid cat. As my friends and I left the only home we had known for four years, I watched us all breathe in the post-grad journey in different ways, often times choking on its smoldering air. It was the first time in my life that all of us were thriving and hurting in unique ways, and the best thing we could do was listen to each other. It was also the first time I couldn’t offer my best friends my best advice because even on my best day I truly did not understand how they were feeling.

Despite the disparate journeys we’ve all taken in the past year of our lives, today, there is one common bond: we survived it. We learned how to juggle student loans with gym memberships, all the while indulging in hedonistic whims (buying a round of shots, splurging on some new pumps, or booking a flight to a bloggers’ conference…wait, is that just me?) We started to disentangle the web between those friends who actually mean something to us and those who would become “oh that girl who I sat next to in strategic discourse and went to happy hour with once.” We cried ourselves to sleep over jobs we wanted but didn’t have and jobs we had but didn’t want.  We dreaded Mondays, relished 3-day weekends, and waited for the clock to strike 5 on Fridays. We tasted the bittersweetness of making our own money but having to pay for our own lifestyle. We navigated the real world of dating where you need a plus one for work events, consistency with one person trumps adventure with 10 (better known as an STD), and a account is like that crazed aunt everyone has but no one talks about.

Class of 2011, those kids sporting bedazzled caps right now ain’t got nothing on us. We are the ones who really made it.

Class of 2012, cheers to you, also. You’ve now inherited the first post-grad year. Consider it our graduation present to you.

Love freely,



I was never an arts and crafts kind of kid growing up. I couldn’t color inside the lines or cut neatly on the edges of them. Now, I’ve gotten better at cutting. Unfortunately, that still doesn’t mean I can cut straight lines (woe is me.) Instead, those lines are traced around my life and I am learning how to cut some people out of it.

I know, I know. It sounds far more harsh and hardass than it should. But, the older I get, the more I find that people, myself included, waste time mulling over situations and tip toeing around bridges they don’t want to burn. If you’re anything less than a sociopath, you want your friendships and relationships to work out. You want to see the good in people. It doesn’t take a Forbes article to let you know that you want the return on your investment. However, it doesn’t always work that way.

Vicki Gunvalson, real housewife of Orange County, and the original gangster I might add, popularized the term “toxicity.” All she’s been talking about all season is getting all of the toxicity out of her life. After confirming with that this is a real word (sorry, Vicki, the housewives have been known to make shit up), I thought about it and had to agree with her. Too often, we let poison, in the form of stale, broken or defective relationships, invade our lives. And, while we contemplate the right thing to say or the 1000th text message to send to patch things up, all that poison does is fester. And, doesn’t fester just sound like a gross word? Gives me the heebie jeebies.

Some things are worth fixing and some people are worth fixing them for. The longer the history with a person or a job or whatever else is poison in your life, the harder it is to toss it. Didn’t take a bachelor’s degree for me to tell you that one. But, growing up often times means letting go. Growing up means looking out for yourself and more importantly, your happiness. No one else is responsible for that.

I call my closest friends and family members my tribe, a term coined by Kelly Cutrone in one of my favorite books,  It only takes about two hands and maybe a few toes for me to count who is in my tribe and it takes years for me to truly add people to it. When it comes to my tribe, there is no cutting allowed. These are the people I will stay on the phone for two hours with, hashing out issues if need be. I’ll hold on to the edge of the bridge for dear life before I burn it, sweaty palms and all. Only for my tribe though.

I don’t know if everyone treats their lives this way and I’m not sure everyone should. Maybe we shouldn’t consider everyone so dispensable and so many of life’s little issues disposable. But, maybe the problem is that we consider everything and everyone a bit too much in the first place.

It’s your life. Grow a pair and grab some scissors. You’ll need both some day.

Love freely,