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I am mildly obsessed with my Google Calendar. The tab on my computer feels almost like a baby I take care of, filling its bottle with my daily activities and coddling it through constant rearrangement, ultimately building some future. Yet, …
At my high school, homeroom was in the middle of the day. After two blocks of 85-minute classes, 20 something or other teenagers and I would come together for seven minutes in Room 302—a health classroom, with the CPR dummies …
The year was 2010. I was five years old and finally allowed to watch television (my mother had a strict “no TV” rule until then). Quickly, my little mind was captivated. At first by the commercials advertising toys I would …
Dirt cake, Grandma and a wind-up lobster. These aren’t just things you may witness walking down the mean streets of Maine but essential components to Nick Jr.’s 2002 show “Max and Ruby.” If this show wasn’t a staple of your …
While Serbs nowadays throw up a holy trinity salute to express their national pride and religion—like Albanians who sign an eagle across their chests with both hands—when I occasionally throw up my thumb, index and middle fingers in a photo, …
Early in the fall it is not rainy, but I decide to wear rain pants to lab anyway. We study mosses flagged by yellow tape for a few hours. The medium is found ballpoint pen on waterproof paper: my favorite …
It had been three months since the lockdown was announced in Metro Manila, and suffice it to say we were all going stir-crazy. Our hands were exhausted from the trend of whipping coffee, our eyes were red from Zoom school …
January 11, 2024—I am an absolute mess. Tears slide down my face as I slowly chip away at my now-salty chicken parm sandwich. I quickly dry my eyes in my sleeve just as my mom walks into the kitchen to …
It took living in the Northeast to come to know that I’m a southerner—that is, from the American South. I grew up emphasizing my Chicagoan origins rather than my hometown in Tennessee in forgettable introductions to familiar strangers, having learned …
Over spring break, my mom handed me a letter. Sent by Ms. Clapp, my beloved high school anatomy & physiology teacher, it had languished under a mounting mountain of mail for untold weeks, maybe months. The sender’s handwriting surprised me: …
