Where the Real and Unreal Meet
We see the world as if we were a child actually in the home of Gasazi, not as an adult or some disembodied gaze.
We see the world as if we were a child actually in the home of Gasazi, not as an adult or some disembodied gaze.
I love talking, which, incidentally, was my very first full sentence. “Any excuse to speak” has long been listed among my favorite hobbies.
In opera we spend time on what matters in life: the big emotional peaks and abysses.
I had plenty of time to think about suffering.
Sometimes, though, I wonder where my personality ends and my OCD begins. Or if they’re distinct at all.
She’d never finish hers, but the smell of the chicken was enough to remind her we loved her.
Toward the end of the graduate bible study my wife and I led this past academic year, two things were almost always certain: cheesecakes and IRB forms.
As it turns out, bad habits don’t evaporate just because there’s nobody around to witness them.
This month, I’d like to highlight a few things I’ve enjoyed reading online over the last couple of months, starting of course, with a piece on the perils of reading and writing online.
Sadness drives me toward community in a way joy never has. Sadness bids for honesty, serves as my greatest ally in empathy, checks my anger, and encourages me to look at another side of the story.