Happiness. It's relative.
It never occurred to me to be anything. Growing up as a kid in a small town and then later as a kid in a working-class suburb of Detroit, I never thought about it, what I wanted to be when I grew up. How… Continue Reading “Write It with a Red Pen”
It never occurred to me to be anything. Growing up as a kid in a small town and then later as a kid in a working class suburb of Detroit, I never thought about it, what I wanted to be when I grew up.… Continue Reading “Write It with a Red Pen”
High school was a vast sea of uncomfortableness. Every day a variation on that theme. Always a part of me off, the limits of my wardrobe a burden I felt every ten days as I waited to wear the teal skirt and sweater set… Continue Reading “The Incredible Beauty of Typing Class”
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