I was at the doctor’s office a few works ago for an annual check up. (For once.) As I sat down with the nurse practitioner, she looked at my chart and announced.
“Ah, I turned 30 last year. That one hurt.”
I must have looked confused because she immediately followed with, “I mean, I don’t know if you think about age like that.” Continue reading Twenty-nine
I’ve always been painfully sentimental. As a kid, I’d do little things like asking my mother to stop the car so I could go flip a turtle over after it got stuck on its back; I’d probe my grandmother for stories about her life out of an oddball desire to better understand life “back then”; I was prohibited from touching stuffed animals at stores because once I touched one, we had a bond and it would be so sad if we just left it there. (I swear that last one wasn’t an attempt to get more toys, I was just disturbingly thorough in applying human emotions and empathy to all people, places, and things.) Continue reading All Singing, All Dancing
Last weekend, I visited MoMA’s P.S. 1 for the first time. It’s a museum that’s been on my list for a few years, but I just never made my way out to Long Island City to go see it. Continue reading The Art of Monotony