It’s a far sexier prospect to meet with a clairvoyant for fifty minutes than to sift through a year’s worth of all your broken-hearted mind-junk in therapy.
God had taken someone from me, I reasoned, and I could inhale some of his creatures in exchange.
The fear of one day losing touch with Chinese culture compels me to shout my heritage just a little bit louder than my husband’s—including resisting things like casseroles and Jell-O.
There’s nothing like trying to face your fears and reclaim your childhood to remind you that everything you believed was good and pure is a lie.
Friends I trust, who have their lives more figured out than I do, swear by camping. It nagged at me like all unattempted things in adult life: can I actually do this?
When Prince died, I found myself instantly transported back to that day in 1984 when I realized just how big music could be, how much it could contain.
My fair-play attitude towards enjoying any genre of film has one notable exception.