Blue Monday (A Tribute to Tom Petty)
For a moment, I wondered if I should be embarrassed. Then I remembered that loving Tom Petty is not embarrassing.
For a moment, I wondered if I should be embarrassed. Then I remembered that loving Tom Petty is not embarrassing.
Whenever I tell people about this hunting trip, about my family’s tradition for the past ten years, I share it with a blend of defiance, pride, and defensiveness.
North Lawndale is a food desert.
My hands are social. They will say “I love you” before my mouth is ready.
I’m discovering that if one is to read aloud, one should pick up a murder mystery.
We can understand being present by distinguishing between two types of activities we engage in on a day-to-day basis: telic and atelic activities.
It’s not that I don’t have a sense of humor—with close friends and family I joke, laugh, and make others laugh. But there’s an unshakeable earnestness to it.
Making friends, it turns out, meant finding people I didn’t have to be funny around—those I could trust liked me even when I wasn’t confident or cracking jokes
“Why weren’t you in church this morning?”
I still haven’t told her.
We’ve since come to realize that there’s no perfect way to feel while pregnant. There’s not an emotional experience you’re supposed to have.