The Dreaded Second Question—Or, In Defense of My Major
Are those not good enough reasons to study history?
Are those not good enough reasons to study history?
Equation A: be ambitious and industrious, do not leave the workplace to the mercy of the weak minded men. Fight + win + conquer, all while rocking 6 inch stilettos and maintaining strong sex-appeal^10.
I don’t know. Two albums that have ripped my heart open, made me cry, left me at a loss for words. I think that’s transcendent.
“Chillermania,” I whispered to myself with reverence. “The World Headquarters.” My heart leapt with excitement.
This is where we are. The reduction of a decades-long debate with life-changing ramifications to a billboard. Or a bumper sticker. Or a sound bite.
Gollums in caves. Rolled down Smartwools. Disposable camera flash. #SB2k13.
Like many a literary grouch before him, Ove’s icy winter of life thaws before his final curtain.
Comfort is a much needed salve, and respite for the parched and thirsty, but it’s good to remember we can also drown.
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.
I didn’t cry at this graduation, like I did all those years ago on the stage of my elementary school, but I would cry later.