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
A red tank top emblazoned with the word DANCE in rainbow glitter. Baby-blue track pants from the Limited Too that snap up the side. Pastel yellow sneakers for skateboarders, doodled all over with ballpoint-pen stars and hearts and Avril Lavigne lyrics. Beige corduroy bellbottoms. A tiered skirt that falls to mid-calf and soars when you… Continue reading the empress’s new clothes
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
“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
Pumpkin Spice Latte. Mimosa brunch. Sex and the City. Hear that? That's the sound of 500 followers running for higher-brow ground. Can you blame them? No self-respecting intellectually competent young adult wants to be caught associating with someone who's—dare I say it?—basic. There was a time, not so long ago, when a young woman in… Continue reading everyone’s a little bit basic
I signed up for a French class a couple weeks ago. It’s the first time I’ve set foot in a classroom since I graduated from college some three and a half (!) years ago. It’s entirely for fun—not for work, not even for a grade—and yet every time I enter the classroom, I feel myself… Continue reading gunner
The nomad's life is exhausting—not to mention expensive, and at a certain point, people start to think you're a little nuts—and I needed a more reliable method of determining my next move. So I wrote a formula: an algorithm based in reliable science and not at all on anecdotal evidence based on a sample size of one, designed to guarantee my happiness on the next perch where I alight.