I Wrote These Things
You’re telling your own story: You graduated college and you’re a grown-ass woman now. Tina Fey is your hero; Beyoncé, your preacher.
You know how to take care of you. If any man ever hit you, you’d rip his eyes out. You’ve seen Mad Men, and if anyone ever sexually harassed you at work, you’d tell him to fuck right off, throw your coffee in his face, and wave two middle fingers as you marched out the door. You get your first credit card. You get to walk into Nordstrom, where your mom would never take you, and congratulate yourself with one black leather skirt, and the heels to match.
New York Times
Shaun Kardinal, 36, doesn’t know where he’d fit another piece of art in his one-bedroom apartment, which is bursting already with more than 100 works.
“Art tends to find the nooks and crannies for things to happen,” he said. Mr. Kardinal’s collection was born of the artistic community he has tapped into since his early days working at a frame shop.
New York Times
Impelled by the pressures of climate change and population growth and shaped by the promise of technologies like 3-D printing, a revolution is brewing in the future of home-building around the globe.
As Earth’s inhabitants, we need to rethink almost everything about the way we live, especially in coastal cities, because our world may be reshaped by rising oceans in ways we can’t yet fully anticipate.
“I’ve got a rockin’ yoga body. Unfortunately, it’s hidden under my donut body.”
I try this joke on Ryan as he checks me into class.
“Mmm, that’s enough of that,” he says. He looks around as if the owner could hear us. “We shouldn’t even be talking like that in here.”
When the woman ahead of us to board an Alaska Airlines flight to Puerto Vallarta says to her friend, “Did you see who’s on our plane?” I am forced to eavesdrop.
My boyfriend is talking to me, but I can't help myself.
“He’s in first class,” the woman says. “Everyone’s going to see him.”
The landlord opens the door to a tiny room. It radiates the possibility that I have been wrong about everything.
Every decision in my life has led me to this point, and I can't believe what it looks like: The space is 10 feet by 9 feet 3 inches. This living room/dining room/office/bedroom/closet is 175 square feet total, according to my calculations.
One summer day in 1991, a mother of three walked into McDonald's on her lunch break. She knew she could get a hamburger there for just 39 cents. The six credit cards in her wallet were useless, each one a lifeless plastic symbol of a maxed-out limit. She searched the depths of her purse for stray coins, and then she searched the cracks of her car, but she had done this so many times before that there was nothing left. She did not have 39 cents.
This mother was my mother.
At a cafe overlooking the plaza where the Spanish mounted the head of the last Incan emperor on a pike, I order a mojito. It’s a stupid drink to get in Peru, but the whole world’s gone stupid. At least, watching people telescope out selfie sticks in front of the Cuzco location of Kentucky Fried Chicken, that is how I feel.
I used to be way more of a Hot Mess than I am now. There I was, in high school, my parents pissed that I was missing my SATs because I'd lost my ID, wondering, Does everyone else feel like they're in trouble all the time? There I was, in college, waiting on the curb for my friend to pick me up from the clinic where I'd sold plasma for $20 of beer money, thinking, Is this funny or sad? There I was, 23, waking up after blacking out at my own party, thinking, Why are my shoe prints in the bathtub, and is this kind of behavior OK as an official adult woman?