The “caterpillar-to-butterfly” effect

One proverbial autumn in my youthier youth, the mango-fruits of a transformative summer vacation shattered my reputation as a weirdo loner — the cruelest denigration, amirite? — in one fell swoop. Behold! I returneth’d to school a provocative, blonde sex ornament and my contemporaries gaped, all, DAMN, SHE GOT HOT. Then, in retaliation for their…

Loveliness & loneliness

I’ve never had a boyfriend. We could psychoanalyze why — trust me, I have — but NO NEED, because I am in love. Or, rather, I find love in reading, resonant lyrics, relationships with relatives and friends (family members both biological and acquired), et alia. We’re conditioned to believe romantic love > platonic love. We’re…

Pen-ultimate!!!

Ladies, germs and gender-nonconforming nuclei, I’ve identified of recent a grave inhibitor to my creativity (and, I’d wager, happiness) … PERFECTIONISM. I have historically been susceptible to the crushing magnitude of my own expectations, particularly apropos publication/print. Why is this dialogue/description-o-mine not extraordinarily witty in a vein reminiscent of Diablo Cody or Amy Sherman-Palladino? I’m…

So high, S O L O . . .

This week, I lurched into D.C. twice, to attend Halsey’s hopeless fountain kingdom concert and John Green’s book tour stop promoting his new novel — both unchaperoned (I’m 22), enduring pedestrian-riddled city driving and reveling in windows-down, radio-up highway driving en route. One insomniatic morn last month, I drove across town for an impulsive 0530…