I’ve taught myself to ward off chaos with inflexible beliefs, following a path so narrow that even the unexpected joys of life have trouble getting in.
I’m another souvenir, amongst many, from the various journeys through time that my father took. Perhaps more deeply rooted, being his child, but still a part of a much larger picture.
Be thankful you’re not the woman melting down and aggressively cutting everyone in the security line–but know that that woman totally exists inside of you. And more gems, after the jump!
I continue to suspend the reality that inspirational quotes trend towards the cloying and the cliché, earnestly hoping that their repetition will pay off.
In The New Yorker’s most recent Summer Fiction Issue, they asked some awesome writers, including Joshua Ferris, Miranda July, and Rachel Kushner to write short essays on the topic “My Old Flame.” They were so wonderful, and after a long writing drought, they inspired me to hurriedly write my own.
After lamenting a deficit of “normal” compliments in my life, I’ve comforted myself by concluding that–while I’ll never be the Marsha Brady of the world–at least people are forced to go off autopilot when they address me.
The statement, style, and song that I’m obsessed with right now.
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).