Goblin mode—a slightly feral way of living your life that prizes mischief, disregard for personal hygiene, and an overarching DGAF lack of aesthetic—was coined circa 2009. 

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When I first started rock climbing in early 2020, I was startled by the inaccessibility of the lingo—a disorientation that was reminiscent of when I began writing copy for tech startups. But instead of listening to founders wax on about MVPs and KPIs or repeatedly ask for the "high-levels," there were a bunch of dirty, chalk-covered people yelling things like "Send it, dude!" “Stay tight, bro!” and “Everything is choss.”

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Long before there was a worldwide pandemic and “rations” was a common part of everyone’s daily vocab, I began watching Survivor. Well, my roommate started watching it. Which meant that I would arrive home from work to see a bevy of dehydrated adults playing oversized golf with a huge slingshot and trying to fish with their hands. 


I wanted a big dog, a dog so large I could ride it. I wanted a huge horse-dog that would allow me to save money on subway fare but would also fit unobtrusively into a fist-sized NYC apartment. I wanted an uber-fluffy dog that didn’t shed, a super-friendly dog that would leave me alone all day, a lazy dog that didn’t need walks but would be happy to pull me along on limit-pushing runs. 


The audiobook was nearly 12 hours long but I listened to it in a day, pacing around Brooklyn wearing a face mask decorated with flying pigs.


Experts say that in times of crisis, it's important to stick to routines.


"I haven't been tested, but I know I don't have it."