What I’ve Learned Since Joining Poshmark

A couple months ago I was talking to my girlfriend and made a joke that I was going to start selling my belongings in order to buy a plane ticket to Malaysia so I could see her. (If you’ve never looked into it, tickets to Malaysia are WTF expensive, no matter how far in advance you try to book one.)

But then I remembered I joined an app called Poshmark last year, which is basically just like a big online thrift store for name brand clothes, and I thought, “I could totally sell some shit!” I have unlimited free time, and a closet overflowing with crap I never wear. What started as a joke just to see what would happen has turned into an actual really good way to make quick cash without having to donate your plasma or pawn your mom’s television. I’ve been selling my clothes on the app for about a month, and so far I’ve made around $600, but I’ve also been using it as this weird social experiment. Along with the cash, here is some knowledge I’ve gained:

1.People will buy anything.
I’ve listed junky old tshirts that have sold. I’ve seen listings for socks that look like they need to take a bath in bleach that people have actually purchased. Bottles of old perfume with only a few sprays left? Yep, someone will buy those too… along with used lipstick. And panties.

2. Patagonia is king.
They don’t call it Patagucci for nothin’. So far my best sale was a Patagonia nanopuff jacket. It was a men’s large, and I bought it at a thrift store for $9.99 with the tags still attached. I listed it on posh for $80, and ended up selling it after negotiating the price down to $70. It sold about an hour after I initially posted it, but in that hour I had at least twenty different offers for it. And those super comfy but totally ugly Patagonia fleece pullovers? People fight over those. Especially if they have some kind of super bright print on them. I sold an old one with cigarette burns in the sleeve for $38. What the hell? Not going to lie though, I’m riding this bandwagon. They have super good quality stuff, and they’re a stand up company.

3. WTF is Lululemon?
Apparently it’s some kind of athletic apparel brand. Like yoga pants, and jackets with thumb holes and shit. But it’s also like the designer drug of the Poshmark world. People will buy leggings with the lulu logo on them for like $100. FOR LEGGINGS. That will, if we’re honest, probably never see a yoga mat, or a gym, or even a 5k. Are they really that much better than my Danskin yoga pants and sports bras that I bought on sale for $5 at Walmart? Someone tell me. Because I will NEVER spend that much for workout apparel.

4. People are just brand obsessed in general. 
The North Face, Victoria’s Secret Pink, some chick named Tory Burch… If it has a huge logo plastered on it, it’s going to sell quickly. The better quality, unbranded stuff gets overlooked. It’s kind of sad, honestly.

5. Some people take the app WAY too seriously. 
Poshmark has an “offer” feature, that allows a user to make an offer on anything listed. Some sellers get completely butthurt if someone makes an offer that isn’t to their liking. This leads them to post things like, “ABSOLUTELY NO LOW BALLING” in the item descriptions. Like, chill. It’s not that serious. And if some pimply teenager offers you $10 for a North Face hoodie, just sell it to her and make her day because everyone deserves a chance to have nice things.  Sellers will also flaunt their statistics in an attempt to draw in more buyers. I might be alone in this, but I think that’s annoying af. I’m doing just fine, and I’ve never had to tell anyone I’m in the top 10% of sellers, or only have a 1 day shipping time.  Again… CHILL.

6. Pilling is the devil. 
Before Posh, I was completely unfamiliar with the term “pilling.” For those not in the know, pilling is the term used when a sweater gets those little balls on it from being worn. People on Poshmark fucking HATE pilling. I’ve been asked 100 times, “Is there any pilling?” so I’ve just started writing “NO PILLING” in big obnoxious letters in my item descriptions. The only rating under five stars I’ve ever received was because a fleece had pilling. Relax, and shave it off with a razor like the rest of us.

7. People are generally not jerks.
I think the biggest thing I’ve learned is that this stupid app functions like this weird little community of people who want cool clothes but also want money. Everyone I’ve dealt with has been honest and kind. I started sending little thank you notes in the packages with my clothes, and everyone has said something sweet about it. No one is a genuine asshole, so… that’s good I guess?

It’s weird, man. I never thought something I started as a joke would ever earn any kind of actual profit. But here I am, $600 closer to Malaysia. If Poshmark helps me kiss my girlfriend quicker, I’ll keep selling shit. Whatever.



He would want me to put the fun in funeral.

My girlfriend is in Indonesia without cell service. Casey’s funeral is Tuesday, in Ohio, and I’m already panicking about going. I’m masking the real reasons for my anxiety and dread with silly concerns, about what I should wear, what I should say to his mom, and what I should say to the shell that used to be him.

I need my person. I didn’t know when you really love someone, you constantly worry about their well being when you can’t be in contact with them. I need to know she’s ok and I need to cry some more about my friend, and I need her to make me laugh, because she’s the only one who can right now. I need to hear her laugh, too, because it fills me with something I don’t think anyone has found a word for yet.

Timing is a real bitch sometimes.


Of all the characters I met in South Carolina, you were one of the only people I kept in touch with regularly when I left. Time would pass, but you would always check in on me. You were like a brother; we wanted nothing but the best for one another.

I didn’t know what to think of you when we first met, but I quickly learned something very important– you were funny. You were also as sarcastic as I was, and hated that job as much as I did. So that was our common bond. Cracking jokes, and bitching, and eventually talking about bigger things. Life, and love, and the things that we weren’t proud of. You saw me cry on more than one occasion over things that didn’t matter, and in turn you told me about your own struggles. We were hard on each other; honest. Only because we cared, in our weird way.

Remember when you refused to cook food for me because I told you I was trying to eat healthy and diet? Remember when I was having a bad day, so you finally gave in? When I came out to you, you took it in stride. You didn’t crack jokes like the other guys. Instead, you told me to do whatever it was that made me happy.

On my last day of work, you locked me in the walk in cooler and poured buckets of water and flour over my head. I knew what you were going through then, and it wasn’t easy. But you still kept me laughing. At my next job I missed you so much I asked you to come work with me. You were, hands down, the hardest worker there. I was proud to call you my friend.

I guess what I’m getting at by all of this is when I think about my time at the beach, a lot of it was really fucked up. And even though you were going through a ton of tough stuff yourself, you were always a rock for me. Someone I could count on. So today, when I found out you are gone, my heart broke. For you, and those three gorgeous boys of yours, and everyone else who was lucky enough to know you.

Everything you were going through is over. I don’t know what happens when we die, but I’d like to believe that you are happy. That you are at peace, and flashing that big goofy smile of yours.

Thank you for being my friend.


Oh hi

Do you know what it’s like to wake up excited; fall asleep feeling safe?
Has anyone been able to say the right thing at the right time, every time?
If not, I hope you find that feeling.
There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thanked the universe for her.

It’s harder to write when I’m happy, isn’t that weird?
I can put all of my pain on display for everyone to see, easily,
But I want to keep this joy to myself.

Maybe because it’s such a foreign feeling,
Or maybe because I’d rather experience it than reflect upon it.
But if something happened, and I couldn’t be around to tell you,
know this:

I am deeply, wholly happy.
I know what it all feels like now.
I know all of my mistakes and struggles and moments of weakness brought me here.
To her.
To this moment.
To love, gratitude, and excitement.

The best bits.

Just imagine a rain cloud over my head as you read this.

Ok, it’s official, I am in some kind of weird funk.

I think it has a lot to do with my upcoming birthday, and Christmas.
Also the fact that I am lonely as fuck.
And probably also the whole, “knowing exactly where I want to be in life but finding it impossible to get there” thing.

There are things I need to talk about, but don’t have anyone to unload it all on.
My dog is a great listener, I just wish he would talk back.

I don’t know. I just hate December.

A List of Miss

I am the biggest Debbie Downer in the land today.

I miss my friends SO much.
I miss working.
I definitely miss my job in the lab.
I miss my girlfriend.
I miss not having to worry about money, which is the stupidest fucking thing.
I miss going to brunch on the weekends with the girls.
I miss taking photographs.
I miss warm weather, and sunshine, and blue skies.
I miss the ocean, and the smell of the ocean, and the peace it brought me.
I miss traveling.
I miss talking about movies.
I miss feeling like anything is possible.
I miss the peace of my own space.

I just had to put it out there.

9pm thoughts about not settling

Find someone who is just as weird as you are. Who won’t think you’re an idiot for making weird voices or narrating your life in song, and who can appreciate your love-bordering-on-obsession for one specific food.

Find someone who is kind. If you haven’t experienced kindness, you’ll recognize it instantly. It’s safe, and warm, and better than you could imagine.

Find someone who knows you. Who won’t let you off the hook when you tell them everything is fine, when in reality everything isn’t fine. You might be freaked out at first if they can tell you’re upset simply from a text message, but you’ll realize quickly this is so important.

And even more importantly, find someone you know. I mean, really know, beyond favorite colors and hobbies, and all things superficial. Someone who makes you realize knowing everything isn’t enough. Someone who finally teaches you in order for love to work, you must keep learning.

Find someone you want to grow with. Someone you want to raise children with, and go on dates with forever, and travel with, and eat with, and fill all of the empty boring spaces of life with.

My life was one big boring space for a long time, and a lot of someones couldn’t change that. Find the right someone. You’ll know them when they arrive; they’ll feel familiar, like your favorite sweatshirt, or going home. Keep them. Love them. And never stop telling them how grateful you are to have found them.

I Did The Thing


And that’s my face of excitement.

I blogged for 30 days, which wasn’t as challenging as I thought it was going to be. I’m going to do it for 30 more, and try to produce content I’m proud of instead of recycling old things and being lazy.

On that note, I’m going to wrap this up and start writing a different post because I need to rant about a former roommate and get real vulgar about it.

Thanks for the encouragement, everyone! It’s been fun.


“One splendid summer afternoon Kaspar realized he had never been happier in his life or both of his lives, past and present. Not fireworks-orgasms-and-champagne happy, but on waking in the morning he was glad almost every single day to be exactly where he was. He had never before experienced the feeling of genuine, constant well-being and it was a true revelation. The longer the satisfaction continued, the less he thought about his previous life as a mechanic and the extraordinary things he’d once seen and been able to do. Misery may love company but happiness is content to be alone. The funny irony of his existence now was, as long as he was this happy and content with his lot, Kaspar didn’t need to make much of an effort to “walk away” from his mechanic’s life because now he was sated with this one both in mind and heart.”
― Jonathan Carroll, Bathing the Lion

It was a hard year. One hell of a fucking year, leaving one life behind and starting another. But I made it. I’m finally at that point– happy.

Sometimes I Hate Social Media

I hadn’t looked at those pictures in months. I had no reason or desire to, and
when I saw them today, they made me sick.
Maybe you couldn’t see it, but I could;
that wasn’t me in the photographs. At least not the me you know now.

There was so much worry behind my eyes. Exhaustion.
You saw a smile, but what you couldn’t see were the eggshells on which I walked for months. I wasn’t alone, but I was lonely. I was afraid. I was sadder than I’ve ever been.

When I look at the photographs now, it feels like someone else lived that life.
It couldn’t have possibly been me,
not this me,
not who I am today, in this moment.

Because now I laugh too much to be that sad.
Now I’m mostly alone, but not lonely.
And I’m not scared anymore,
because I know you’ve got me.

We’ve got this.

Photographs can lie, sometimes.
But you are my truth.
You are the best thing.