Less, Please
Poetry is hard work, and mostly I forget it exists.
Christina Ribbens (’19) graduated with a major in history and minors in studio art and data science. After working in campus ministry for a few years, she’s getting her master’s in public humanities at Georgetown University in Washington, DC. She has a benevolent dependency on tea, is always down for a game of pick-up basketball, and would love to have you over for pancakes sometime.
Reviewing the Books on My Shelves That I’ll Never Read
I was especially tickled by that one anecdote about a dog probably.
Do You Want to See What I Drew?
The making of the thing feels good and the looking at a thing that I think looks nice feels good.
Predictions for the Vaderland, Pt 2: Mostly Nailed It
And, no great loss, I didn’t think about The Masked Singer once.
Predictions for the Vaderland
I think about saying “bedankt” after ordering but chicken out.
Lessons and Carrels
If they checked IDs, I’d never get in. But they don’t, and I wrote my paper, feeling like maybe I understood this place better than its students.
A Big Corner
There are single family homes and giant, shiny apartment buildings and about six 7-Elevens in my square mile.
An Ode to My Check Engine Light
And for a moment I thought, “Ah, maybe the car has healed itself,” before remembering that only living things can heal themselves and that my car, although I sometimes talk to it as if it were a person, is not a living thing.
My Childhood Bedroom: An Inventory
Twin bed with ancient plastic tubs holding who knows what underneath (1)
Ancient plastic tubs holding who knows what (3)
Dear Posterity
While she wrestled greatly with the tension of simultaneously desiring community and independence, it is clear that she was actually nailing it the entire time and really had nothing to worry about.
Requesting Grumpy Leave
Apple Store Man (Alex). Genius Bar appointment at 11:15am, confirmed death of laptop and had very nice eyes.
Microsoft Paint
Jackson Polluck wishes.
An Open Letter to My New Apartment
Okay, maybe it’s best not to dwell on your quirks quite yet—we’re not there and that’s just fine.
Froot Loops and How to Fill My Days
If I were to sit down with past Christina I’d want to relieve some of that angst, although I’m not sure if she’d like the answers I’d give.
Oops I’m a Troubadour
It’s a pitiful, endearing, and slightly Dickensian image: two pale, scrawny siblings with oversized guitar cases strapped to their backs, walking slowly along a quiet street.
The Trouble with Wanting
If I’m miserable that means I must be doing something right.
Sorry I Stared at Your Pillow This Whole Flight
Maybe she actually loathes the pillow because it has come to symbolize her cold, loveless marriage—what sort of husband gives his wife a neck pillow?
Spring Cleaning But Make it Anecdotes
Romans were sacrificing birds to figure that stuff out.
This Is Supposed to Be Fun
I suppose it’s encouraging to recognize ways that I’ve grown since then, but I’m frustrated by what feels unfinished.
Animated Plants Ranked by Appeal
The creators wanted you to fear this plant and they succeeded.
The Morality of Dying Plants
I know that keeping plants alive and being tidy aren’t moral achievements, but sometimes I let myself feel that way.
I Care Less
All I know is that she gardens and gives people Christmas trees and string lights, so according to Hallmark movies she’s probably Santa’s daughter.
When Facts Stop Being Fun
I like knowing the sorts of things they write crossword puzzle clues about; it’s one of the ways I feel like I understand the world I live in.
A Floor Might Just Be a Big Shelf
I’ve been less decisive about the shelves, however.
How the Cheese Used to Get Made
No one should do these things. They are not practical and, in some cases, pretty dangerous.
I’ll Just Be in the Other Room, Fainting
What were they going to do, take me to urgent care to hear, “Mmm sorry, it’s broken but also…it’s a toe?”
