I must be ready to be the best person I can be to serve my country.
In Tobe Hooper’s famous horror film, the color yellow is a visual catalyst for the evil that is to come.
It was the first time I’d ever noticed growth or newness this way: reclaiming, or returning, rather than overhauling and chasing.
The trick to a good nostalgic curry rice is to finish it with honey. Just a drizzle at first.
What’s terrifying about Spears’s situation, for a certain kind of disabled person, is that we are a razor’s edge away from joining her.
Tea plants—and the drinks we make from them—carry so many meanings.
They ground me, authorizing me to keep talking like I do.
I try to talk openly about everything that was shrouded in mystery when I was growing up. I try to take the distorted sense of my younger self and change her shape.
At times, I’d like a woman to be the one in pursuit.
For me and my twin, the surprise was not our matching tumors, but that hers was malignant and mine was benign.
The affectations of white anime enthusiasts made me feel fake, confusing my yearning for the language and familiarity I craved.