Monthly Archives: September 2020
Like Agnes, I decided this unicorn would be mine.
“What part of this job are you looking forward to?”
“Decorating a hallway.”
Buying a feeder isn’t something one does on a whim; it takes planning.
I’m not sure if that makes me a “bad feminist” in the same way that wanting a perfect body made Fleabag a “bad feminist,” but I wish I had known more about RBG when I was younger
Fergie and the goldfish, thankfully, seemed unaffected.
Does it matter that this particular person voting for a corrupt, anti-democratic, avowedly racist and misogynist leader is also a “prayer warrior” and a “champion of the faith”?
I think I had a couple of good English teachers early on, and I liked reading books, so I decided I must be an English person, and there you have it.
Today is the first day of autumn, and instead of dreading it, I’m going to try my best to stay hopeful.
One would think rights bequeathed by the Omnipotent Ruler of the Universe would be impervious to puny, mortal attack.
But like a towering stack of nachos, hope and excitement can only be piled so high before everything comes tumbling down.
I hope that, along with her name, I will always carry some reflection of her in me.
I’m not convinced that looter’s increased presence in my life is the result of a newly expanded horizon of awareness.
Pull those covers all the way over to your side at night. What doesn’t kill him makes him stronger.
Don’t look at me and see where I’m lacking.
I didn’t long for the suffering, but a part of me envied the certainty it seemed to produce.
At best, I’m mildly amusing. At worst, I’m lazy internet trash whose only claim to a comedy crown is stolen memes.
The question “Do you have a TikTok?” definitely sparks an interesting conversation.
Perhaps confession has more to do with vulnerability and emergency than with orthodoxy and tradition.
In The Color Purple by Alice Walker, Shug tells Celie, “I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.”
$20 in a bank only means what it does because we’ve built institutions and systems to support and protect the idea that $20 means $20.
Generations survived by this resource that I now visit a few times a week for a pleasant view and a whipping fresh breeze.
I asked the fair barista, “Sir,
Have you the stock I seek?”
“Alas,” said he, “our shelves are bare,
And will be for a week.”
A cheesy name celebrating the town it can be found in? 10/10. A charming new addition of orange pool noodles glued to its exterior to ensure social distancing? Dreamy.
The ability to imagine outside our four walls is how we stay sane.
All I know is that during a long vacation, I wandered into a moving tale of dangerous dreams, opportunities to heal former traumas, and people who met at the wrong (or maybe perfect?) time.
Choosing hope today doesn’t deplete what’s available to us tomorrow.
I’m not totally saying those two weeks of my high school AP stats class caused a nationwide erosion of trust in authority and science.
It’s time to pass this space on to the next generation.