But I will often retrace the roads and words I’ve taken and exhale, exultant.
Gabe Gunnink (’14) lives in Seattle, where he works for a European travel company and gawks at the landscapes and skylines surrounding him. In his free time, he enjoys practicing Portuguese under his breath on city buses, running far enough to justify eating an entire pan of cinnamon rolls, and faithfully implementing Oxford commas.
Anyone who tells me that The Hunger Games series is just another YA sci-fi romp will quickly find themselves on the receiving end of a literary argument so blistering they’ll think they were just stung by a swarm of tracker jackers.
I think that there are plenty of things within the gay community that deserve to be challenged and criticized; I just wish that my precious protagonists didn’t conflate these flaws with effeminacy.
This February, the Alaskan Way Viaduct will be disassembled. Trucks and cranes will shake loose the concrete foundations before an earthquake has the pleasure, and I’m beginning to realize that I will never be able to leave Seattle the way I came.
Now that my grandma has died, though, I feel almost embarrassed when people comfort me. I find myself dodging and deflecting each earnest, brow-furrowed condolence with chipper sound bytes: “It was a mercy at this point.” “It was a long time coming.” “I actually had a great time with my family. It was so fun to see my cousins from out of town!” I refuse to play into the cliché.