In the midst moments
I approach the orange umbrellas and high tables. I pick the middle table, where I know the sun will eventually slide, plop my backpack and my purse onto a neighboring chair, and wriggle awkwardly into my own seat. I open my laptop. Stare at the group of men vaping across the grass lawn. Wow, I
A hazy, lazy autumn afternoon lit by slanting sunlight. The day slipped away like water in my hands. I dove in and out of my book, rising periodically to brew another cup of tea, pop popcorn, peel a tangerine. My sister, sprawled on the couch beside me, tapping on her laptop, the clicking of the
“I’m at the gas station,” I said. “I’m leaving now.” The gas line clunked and the numbers on the pump stopped climbing. I pulled the nozzle out of the tank and clicked it back into place. “Okay. Text me when you get home.” “Bye, Mom. I love you.” I unplugged the white headphones, rolled them
Warm, hot wind. Waves licking the shore. The flash of an eagle’s wings against its white head and the blue sky. This is the lake. Unforgiving sun. The relief of the shade. The gentle rocking and leaning of the old, groaning dock. Generations of spiders’ webs and swallows’ nests in the paint-flecked eaves. This is
Despite many vocal doubters, the gender pay gap is real. Women make less money than their male counterparts for the same work. There are decades and centuries of social conventions and constructions, sexist legislation and policies, self doubt, and oppression wrapped up in that truth—too many emotions, too much pain to attempt to fairly and
The screen dimmed. The credits began to roll. I let out a sigh and untensed my shoulders. Behind us, as moviegoers shuffled out through the rows, I heard dark, muttered comments and one loud “That was the worst movie I’ve ever seen!” We’d just seen “Sorry to Bother You,” a trippy, surrealist movie that starts
Alright listen up. I’m here to tell you why makeup is The Worst. Women are expected to wear it. Men are not. Makeup wipes. Squeezing a 0.2mm-thick line of eyeliner onto my tiny hooded eyelids. When all you want to do is rub your eyes but you can’t. “Are you tired?” Capitalism. Contouring is a
Lately, I’ve been thinking about what I love to do, and I think I want to become a graphic designer. But to get there, I need to learn. And that means failing—a lot. Some people love trying out new things. They don’t mind failing or looking foolish in front of others. These people are liars
I was in Dublin, and it wasn’t raining. I was in Dublin, and the sky was clear, and the streets were singing their wily song—the melody that ensnares your heart and beguiles your mind and sends you stumbling through an unfamiliar city—and my gut was ruining everything. We had only a week in Europe—a few