I’ll Make a Man Out of Me
This week, I decided to spend a day allowing society (a.k.a. the internet) to tell me exactly how I should be a man. For one day I would dress, drink, and spend my time how the cyber arbiters of masculinity determined.
This week, I decided to spend a day allowing society (a.k.a. the internet) to tell me exactly how I should be a man. For one day I would dress, drink, and spend my time how the cyber arbiters of masculinity determined.
But that Saturday, while I was still in bed, I got another call from my mom. I knew from her first word the reason she was calling. Very early that morning, my grandfather had died in his sleep. I wept.
I wonder, sometimes, if you feel forgotten. After all, I did not become an English professor, as I once thought I might.
I had plenty of time to think about suffering.
One of our neighbors is a nosy elderly lady named Linda. I love Linda.
Will Montei made me feel infinitely better about moving to college and leaving everyone behind, simply because no matter how sad and alone I felt, at least I wasn’t him.
Christmas is always the musk of dusty angel robes and glow of Christmas tree lights on the hardwood floor. Easter, however, is rarely the same twice.
The pattern of post-grad life has few intuitive goals. The to-do list is not made for you; life seems more intrinsically aimless.
I was recently in a local theater production of Ragtime. I’d like to take a moment to thank my fellow cast members for being humans, and for the joy they brought to my life just by existing.
And I’m in Ann Arbor, dreaming of waffles.