a girl can dream

I tend to have vivid, emotionally draining dreams that ratchet up in intensity until, just before I wake up, I realize with tremendous relief that I'm dreaming. So yes, that's what I'm waiting for here: the end of the dream, or the deus ex machina, or whatever it is that doesn't involve me sitting in… Continue reading a girl can dream

all-day dining at the homesick restaurant

(With gratitude and apologies to the inimitable Anne Tyler.) I was in Palo Alto this past week for work. Now that I live in Europe, my once- or twice-yearly visits to the California office are a jet-lagged flurry of hugging people I thought had been fired long ago. (To be fair, they obviously think the… Continue reading all-day dining at the homesick restaurant

woo-woo girls

I approach anything that's not, e.g., reading Proust with a keening sense of shame and thus never learn to do it properly. The trouble is that I've also never read Proust, either, putting me in this liminal space where I have neither Instagram followers nor highfalutin lit-bro cred.

putting away childish things

Adulthood, I think, is a matter of learning how to hold truths that contradict one another, because each truth was at one point valid. Every truth, in its own time and its own context, is how you become yourself.

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

dana got run over by a reindeer

This holiday season, I fell into a funk, captured for posterity in a series of journal entries where I asked myself some variation of “what's wrong with me?” I blame Christmas, when the answer to this question is obvious: I don't have access to a baby or a purse dog or a mini-SUV that I… Continue reading dana got run over by a reindeer

the summer of my discontent

Throughout the northern hemisphere, the school buses are gassing up. Twentysomethings are putting away their cutoff shorts and Indian headdresses until next year's Coachella. Bartenders are replacing their summer shandies with pumpkin beer and the Gap is stocking their shelves with another season's worth of infinity scarves that will last all of four months until… Continue reading the summer of my discontent

rules of engagement

“Well, he said you're cute, but kind of... weird,” she tells me, sheepish. “Like, he said he looks over in class sometimes and you're, like... giggling to yourself?” I'm offended, briefly, before I think about myself in Developmental Psychology. It's more about babies than I had really bargained for, and either I'm bored and my… Continue reading rules of engagement