Lana Maryé Morelli

Bereavement Notice: Mourning the loss of the Lana’s beloved 20something years (June 19, 2005-June 19, 2015).   It’s was a wild 10 years. College and graduate school were completed.   Took some left turns, but found a career she loves. Found a wonderful man.   Maintained friendships with friends, siblings and even became friends with parents.   Traveled the world but never overcame the fear to fly.   Had a lot of fun, on some occasions one too many cocktails and every summer spent plenty of nights in Gull Point and Dewey Beach.   The 20something years were a blast, but they are now peacefully laid to rest.   No time to repeat, only happily moving forward.   The 20something years are survived by all the great memories, photos and social media documentation, as well as the 30something years and the infinite future.   Donations and gifts of good will and positive energy are asked to be sent to the party welcoming the official birth of the 30something years.   RIP 20’s :) As

And by Walt, I mean Walt Disney.   That’s right, the one and only.   The creator of “Happily Ever After,” “Mickey Mouse Clubhouse” and the same guy rumored to be frozen in a capsule somewhere.   I blame him, not entirely, but to a certain extent for the unrealistic expectations of what “love” is supposed to be.  Last week I was asked to sit on a panel in Philadelphia called the “ Great Love Debate ” where myself and some very talented and experienced dating gurus try to answer the question “Why is everyone still single?”   As I ponder this question, in anticipation of our debate, I couldn’t help but think about a former theory of mine, which I coined; “The Disney Dilemma.” The Disney Dilemma developed after a debate with a very strong-minded 4 year old.   I was babysitting in college, one of my many side-jobs at the time, and I took the kids outside to play.   On this particular day, the little girl I was babysitting, 4 years old, asked me, “What do you want to be when

I always thought Halloween was a peculiar holiday. As a kid you dress up and go door to door, taking hand outs from strangers—something that certainly defies all “stranger danger” rules. Nevertheless, the distraction of sugary treats can be enough validation to forget how weird the concept really is. However, as an adult, I find Halloween even more mystifying. Not because of the creepy music or spooky undertones. I really just find it odd that people make such a fuss about dressing up. Spending exorbitant amounts of money perfecting a costume. Making sure everything   is “just right,” because “it’s only one day a year you get to dress up.” Or is it? Aren’t we all “dressing up” everyday as adults? Wearing our “costumes” to work and in our personal lives. People call it “changing hats” or a “different face.” Whatever the cliché, the truth is that we’re all acting a certain way for our certain role. Employee, Professional, Child, Parent, Student…the particular role dictat

“I (squeeze), Love (squeeze), You (squeeze).” Hands have always held a bit of importance in our family. We have a code of “Three Squeezes” something we routinely do as we kissed each other goodbye. Something I did as I ran out the door with friends or my boyfriend. “See you later,” (Squeeze, Squeeze Squeeze). Something that I never paid much attention to. It was just a tradition, a habit, a routine for us. One of the many quirks that families have. But  everything turned upside down when my father was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) fighting for his life. When change is anticipated, we welcome it—A graduation, an engagement, a new house, a new car, an arrival of a baby or a new job.  In those instances we celebrate change. But when change comes abruptly and unexpected, we want to hide from it, only to find out there is no where to hide. That’s how I felt anyway when my father was hospitalized and put into a coma. I wanted to hide. I wanted to sink into myself,

Another person falls victim to bullying.   This tragic and horrible epidemic is newly taking over the teen and tween population.   Spreading like wildfire amongst the most impressionable generation all because of the bastard internet. Okay, wait.   That’s not true. In fact, bullying has been around forever. I remember sitting with my grandmother.   A 5’ foot tall, Irish woman, who had the sweetest face, and the sharpest tongue.   She was cute as a button, but that was only a façade.   I must have been only 5 or 6 years old and I remember her teaching me a little song.   I sat on her floral couch, wide-eyed and singing along.            Here’s my pinkie… Here’s my thumb… Here’s my fist you better run! It was a silly little song, and with each line, we performed the corresponding movements.   We showed our pinkie, then our thumb, and finally raised our fist with a very serious look on our face (crinkled nose and all).   After the song we would laugh and laugh

  I had just completed my first year of law school and I was clerking for a judge during my “Summer 1” (as the law students call it) .   I should have been enjoying my time off from class but I didn’t feel happy.   At lunchtime, I should have been rubbing elbows with the higher ups, networking and learning the politics of the courthouse.   Instead, I sat in the giant window in the Judges Chambers with my salad, scribbling away furiously in a pink legal pad.   I knew at Christmas of that year that I wasn’t happy in law school, but I kept pushing to make it fit.   Instead of gloating about the coveted clerkship I was privileged to obtain, I was writing, trying to organize my feelings on returning to law school for a second year. Whenever I come to a crossroads in my life, I like to make a list of pro’s and con’s. Sounds kind of silly, that a list could help me make decisions, but my gut seemed to be confused and as hard as I looked for Jiminy Cricket, he didn’t appear to be anywher