the medium is the message

This is part 2 of an ongoing* series about the Internet. Last week, I talked about how social media was my conduit to self-actualization (at least once I emerged from underneath the rock where I’d been hiding from Instagram for five years). This week, I counter that thesis by arguing that the Internet is a… Continue reading the medium is the message

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pics or it didn’t happen

This post is the first in a two-part series about the Internet. In Part 1, below, I write a pages-long excuse for wasting all of my time on the Internet. In Part 2, I’ll illuminate the inseverable connection between trying to buy a mattress and the declining art of writing. Keep yourselves busy in between… Continue reading pics or it didn’t happen

these changes ain’t changing me

It occurs to me now that this story is wasted on the young. As a child, I found it overwrought. Then again, I was the kind of insufferable pedant who insisted on pointing out that I was ten and a half or turning thirteen next month. To me, the delta between just-turned-twelve and twelve-plus-eleven-months was… Continue reading these changes ain’t changing me

teenage dream

Every so often, I give up on pretending that I have sophisticated taste in music and turn on the kind of thing I used to wallow to in high school. It's a sure ticket to the past, which has been especially welcome lately—nothing like escaping to the good old days when the president was just… Continue reading teenage dream

city mouse, suburb mouse

“Master-planned community”: a euphemism for “white people and expensive trees, arranged along streets that are cleverly named so that a typical set of directions sounds like 'make a right on Timber Rose, then a left on Heirloom Rose, and then another right on Scarlet Rose.'”* This is where I was raised, on a parcel of… Continue reading city mouse, suburb mouse

bathrooms of the great midwest

I have a small bladder. Perhaps it's more proper to say that I am a small woman and then let you infer the rest, but I've never pretended to be proper, so let's just be frontal about it and move on. I have to pee often enough that I'm a bad person to bring on… Continue reading bathrooms of the great midwest

thicker than water

“An introverted Finn looks at his shoes when talking to you; an extroverted Finn looks at your shoes.” I traveled recently to Finland, the country that my mother's family left several generations ago. I've never been particularly in tune with my cultural heritage, mostly because I'm not just a mutt but a generic, whiter-than-white-bread mutt:… Continue reading thicker than water