When Food is the Only Narrative We Consume
Chinese culture can’t be made bite-sized for mass consumption.
Chinese culture can’t be made bite-sized for mass consumption.
Colin Farrell’s friend breakup in ‘The Banshees of Inisherin’ is eerily similar to my own. His is just more cinematic.
I used to think the border between me and the world was formidable, unyielding. I didn’t yet realize the ways that the earth was acting on my body.
When I hired a financial coach, I wasn’t expecting to fall down a rabbit hole of mantras, manifesting, and magical thinking.
Where does my style begin and his taste end? My suitcase is overflowing with meaning I can’t handle anymore.
Resting, in this context, is resistance.
I had never met creatures more cowardly than those two mice, but, for some reason, they would never abandon each other.
Because I tolerated constant injury, I’m better than I ever was.
Learning I was autistic gave me insight into my childhood fixations and hurts, into how those things have stayed with me over the decades.
Menopause is still treated more like a throwaway joke than an experience that deserves to be explored with any kind of artistic or emotional depth.
This non-conformist approach to adulthood still sounds radical today.
I’m already leading a different life than the nuclear family I’d envisioned. There’s freedom in stepping away from that, but I find it uncomfortable too.
Going through puberty as an asexual person often felt like I was playing a board game and everyone had the instructions but me.
In that sense, we’re still haunted.
But who decides what’s common knowledge?
There are many ways to be a woman, many ways to be a mother, many ways to be a whore.
According to people I met back home, my face didn’t match my voice.
I couldn’t fight off the sense that there is a certain absurdity to getting tested for a disease for which there is currently no cure.
Years spent in cultlike workplaces under cartoonishly incapable bosses has spooked me from going back to the office.