Overthinking so you don't have to.
I was at Craftsman & Wolves, paying for my sandwich and pastry to go, when “Creep” came on over the airwaves. The cashier and I started going “Whoa-oa-oa!” in throwbackers’ delight.
Clearly not making room for her and her bike, I purposefully didn’t give up my spot against the bike wall. Her ears weren’t clogged by earplugs like mine; she didn’t have an excuse not to hear the announcement. I almost told her, “You need to switch cars. No bikes on the first car.”
As I stood there waiting for the train to stop, I noticed two Black women looking over my outfit.
“Oh god,” I thought. “They’re judging me for wearing this Wu-Tang Clan sweatshirt.”
I can’t drop a pin on how old I was when I started wondering about Aunt Marian’s marital status. It was during that age when I didn’t put any thought toward my teachers having lives outside of school. Based on the extent of my understanding of role and identity, they slept in classroom cupboards after the bell rang.
How often do you come across three-packs of earrings? It’s like some Accessories Angel knew I have exactly three lobe piercings.
If you were to ask a three-ish-year old in 1986 about Crocodile Dundee and Flight of the Navigator, she might stop and tell you to put your glass of water somewhere else, because “Allie,” her baby pet alligator, is lying precisely where your drinkware hovers, and you’ll squish him.
We hosted a streaming marathon party this weekend, learned we can’t sit through more than four episodes at one time, and were perplexed, entertained, and almost entirely satisfied by the Bluths’ triumphant return. Moments of delight, confusion, and general spoilers ahead!
When I first caught wind of Iris Smyles’ Iris Has Free Time, I was worried it might be that type of coming-of-age that would make me avoid all situations involving heroines. But my skepticism was overturned, something I couldn’t help noticing when I finished the book in a week.