To Any Survivors:
It’s November ninth. I’m broadcasting to you from a bunker deep underground near the Earth’s core where it’s still warm. The election was yesterday, and we all know what happened.
Election Day
Russians, emails, and lies (oh my!)
Trust Me
We made a Pop-Tart assembly line. You know, to save time. An assembly line of two people. I toasted the Pop-Tarts and my brother Andrew buttered them.
A Song Sadder Than It Used To Be
What could have been? What would have been, always debated. Again and again, the future and now, and tears, but only hers.
Happy (Belated) Half-Birthday to Me
I will be at church at midnight on Christmas, because that’s my job now. I’ve surrounded myself with tradition and ritual, and I feel right at home.
The Limitations of Flowers
The woman looked at me like I’d asked to give her a dead fish, which, considering I looked like I had come out of the forest, wasn’t wholly misplaced.
An Alarmist Essay about Meteors
You may not have realized this, but the world came very close to ending last Sunday night.
Blogging Boundaries and Not Trying to Play Coy
This post, though it may not seem like it at all, is much more personal than anything I’ve written thus far.
Let’s Get a Little House
Let’s buy our sofas at a rummage sale and/Cover the spots with afghans someone knitted./Let’s learn to knit.
Frequently Asked Questions
I’ll walk past those significant spaces on campus that graciously held my tear-filled conversations, all-nighters, hilarious pranks, Calvin walks, and breakups. I see new students carrying on life; these are their spaces now.
