After all, who better to guide me than the one person who knows all my quirks, bad habits, and irrational love for overpriced coffee?
When life throws a curveball—and let’s face it, life is basically one giant game of dodgeball—I know exactly where to turn for guidance. I’ve gathered a rather unconventional yet undeniably powerful team of advisors, each offering a blend of wisdom, humor, and just a hint of sarcasm. Picture this: my mom, my dad, my elder teachers, me (naturally), and Lorelai Gilmore. A squad so eclectic it could only exist in my head, but trust me, it works.
Let’s start with the matriarch of my advisory team—my mom. She’s the one who always knows what to do, and not just in the how-to-fix-the-plumbing kind of way (although she could totally do that too). No, my mom’s advice hits deeper, like the ultimate “life manual” that’s been updated with every new season of Real Housewives. Whenever I’m feeling a little lost, she’s there, usually telling me to drink water, eat something green, and maybe, just maybe, not overthink everything. And when all else fails, she just tells me, “You’re doing great,” even if I’ve eaten three bagels and watched five episodes of my favorite show without moving.
Now, my dad, he’s the kind of guy who can fix anything—from a broken Wi-Fi connection to my emotional baggage (okay, maybe not everything). His advice comes with a practicality that hits you like a ton of bricks: “Did you try turning it off and on again?” It sounds simple, but honestly, it’s a life philosophy. It’s that tough-love, problem-solving mindset that always reminds me to keep it simple and logical, even when I’d rather spiral into an existential crisis over the state of my inbox. He might not be handing out hugs like mom, but his “let’s fix this” approach makes me feel like there’s no problem that can’t be solved… even if the solution is just coffee and a little bit of patience.
Then we have the elder teachers—the Yodas of my life. I’ll never forget the sage advice they casually drop in the middle of a conversation, almost as though it were no big deal. They’re the ones who’ve been through it all and lived to tell the tale. Their words aren’t just lessons; they’re life armor. “You’ll get there,” they say, as if to remind me that, despite the overwhelming chaos of modern life, there’s always a way out. They have this uncanny ability to blend wisdom with a side of “Why haven’t you figured this out yet?”—delivered, of course, with a knowing smile. I might not always get it right away, but I can always count on them to gently nudge me in the right direction—usually right after they tell me to “stop procrastinating and do something productive for yourself” (which, by the way, is probably solid advice).
But what about me, you ask? Well, naturally, I’m the self-proclaimed life guru in this mix. When I’m staring at a problem, it’s often like I’m looking at a blank canvas that needs a little bit of… me. After all, who better to guide me than the one person who knows all my quirks, bad habits, and irrational love for overpriced coffee? My advice to myself is always a balance between optimism and self-deprecating humor. “You can do this,” I whisper to myself. Then five minutes later, I’m like, “Maybe you should just take a nap and deal with it later.” But hey, it’s all about progress, not perfection, right?
Finally, there’s Lorelai Gilmore—aka the queen of sarcasm, coffee, and advice so sharp it could cut glass. If I could bottle up Lorelai’s brand of wisdom, I’d be the most self-aware, sassy individual on the planet. Her advice is never straightforward, often wrapped in a layer of humor and pop culture references that make you stop and think. “Why overthink?” she’d say. “It’s easier to just make a sarcastic comment and call it a day.” Honestly, in times of confusion, I ask myself, “What would Lorelai do?” and then proceed to make questionable decisions, all while wearing a perfectly tailored blazer and holding an espresso. It’s a lifestyle.
And so, there you have it—the glorious, sometimes contradictory, yet always effective advisory team that helps me navigate life. I don’t need a life coach, I’ve got a mom who tells me to hydrate, a dad who reminds me to keep it simple, teachers who drop truth bombs, myself (because clearly, I’m a genius), and Lorelai Gilmore, who teaches me that the answer to almost everything is probably sarcasm and coffee-coffee-coffee. (and that’s normal)
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to make some decisions. And by “decisions,” I mean “grab another coffee and scroll aimlessly through Instagram.
RETRO CHIC REVIVAL 