So what happened?
I hope you enjoy this walk down memory lane with us. I know it’s bittersweet, but really, so were we.
Outrage culture is the snowballing of defensive impulses, a kind of mob mentality, where they grow into a destructive force.
We’re financially stable, emotionally stable, love kids. It’s the perfect time for babies. But, there’s a catch: it might be too late.
Is that fear really so different from homophobia itself? The idea being that if gayness is allowed to get too close—portrayed on television, for example—if you were to be exposed to it without a violent defense, it might turn you…
It’s hard to pinpoint the single weirdest person I’ve ever met, but in the running is this girl named Zoey.
…for some reason I’ve committed myself to driving this sour tin can into the ground. It’s like a challenge, I want to beat the car. I want to drive it until it crumbles like the Garthim when Jen plunged the shard into the Dark Crystal
What I love is love. I love trust and tenderness and the little things that make a life together so beautiful. And I love real romance—something that can only be born of impulse
I try a lot of different methods to get my stress level under control: exercise, yoga, eating lots of nachos, more coffee…
The whiskey-passer put his hand on my knee, his thick thumb swishing back and forth like a cat’s tail before it pounces. Time stopped.
Over these weeks, as we cleaned and cried and shared these memories, a sense of ease settled over us. It was like finding no monster under the bed.
This room was an archaeological dig. We took a deep breath and excavated my mother’s addiction in layers, brushing off the dust and analyzing their significance.
…it was like peeking through a hole in a wall to a secret garden; there was anguish in glimpsing an as yet unreachable world, but the hope on the other side was enough to make going on feel vital
This is the story of clutter, of loneliness and little things and mountains growing between people. This is the story of fear and guilt, and the powerful experience of peeling it away. I’ll warn you now: this story will take more than one column to tell, and in the beginning there is darkness.