A Prayer for the Twenty-Somethings
be with every late night job-searcher, every too-old-for-internships-er, all of us just looking for a step in the door. Be with the waiters who aren’t scientists yet, the sales clerks who aren’t published yet.
be with every late night job-searcher, every too-old-for-internships-er, all of us just looking for a step in the door. Be with the waiters who aren’t scientists yet, the sales clerks who aren’t published yet.
All this to say: the place you live is not merely the setting to the story of your life.
What if we heard all accents this way—not as a sign that English is not one’s first language, but as a sign that another language is?
But that’s not the world we actually inhabit, so why do we continue to encourage kids to engage in these comparisons? And why are we so terrified of negative emotions?
We drove home and argued. Why was I so angry? About something so small? It’s not about that; it’s about the fact that I feel useless and nothing seems to be going the way it was supposed to go.
I did something I’d never done before: I started screaming for help.
The reason I think about Samson often is that he was a legend, but he seems just as human as the rest of us. He was selfish, deceptive, and disobedient, and yet, we remember him as a hero.
On Sunday, I came across a body, lying by the side of the road—an expanding pool of blood seeping from the head.
There are seventeen weeks until summer—take the time to thank a local grower, and spend some quality time with an onion. Warm weather will be here soon.
Which is why it is so wonderful to see Adam Rippon glorified for his femininity. And which is why it’s so wonderful to see that he does not carry the queer Olympic torch alone.