A list of things that are “not hot, not not, just meh.” Today’s roundup incudes: Allison Williams, long TV show intros and Sriracha-flavored beer.
I have a friendship fetish: I get off to sharing people I really like with all the other people I really like.
Running into a great old friend on the street the other day reminded me why we shouldn’t let ourselves get so lazy about staying in touch.
With some larger life changes on the horizon, and less overall safety in the new, I’ve been gravitating towards self-protection over endless personal divulgence.
The pain felt when realizing someone only talks to you when they’re sad is quite specific. It comes on slowly, until, suddenly, you’re faced with weighty questions re: what is friendship, in the vein of Seneca (but with decidedly more estrogen).
These moments aren’t tangible—they haven’t made me rich or afforded me the freedom to travel to my heart’s content, but they have made the last year of my life so much more rewarding than it would have been otherwise.
Death is a situation that we’re forced to absorb, and to watch others surrender to. It’s one of the few real facts of life, but its fidelity isn’t sweet, like a recurring rash with no known cure.
Why friends who get pumped up by things that you initially could care less about are–in my book (see: that of Jess, rather than Job)–the best friends to surround yourself with.
To my oldest friend on her birthday: thank you for being an endless source of human-Advil to the many, many (have I said many?) friends who are lucky enough to call you one of their people—we are positively addicted, proud to be your junkies.