Growing up towards the end of the Earth: A personal essay
Gavin Sagastume/Staff
We can’t stop time and aging, and we can’t solve climate change in its entirety by ordering a veggie burger, though I wish we could.
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A timeline of us: A poem
1972 South Korea. Black hair and almond eyes and parted lips; impatience intertwined with red blood. It is quiet and you are crying: a baby swaddled in fragmented memories and a mother’s tears. The air is smoky, sweet, sea-foam blue and pearly pink. An attempt to speak leads to a
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Lights in strange places: A poem
there’s a bubble in the wall above our pillows. it’s a painted over bulge, caught condensation from decades of tenants mouth breathing into a room
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We’ll meet in Mei: A short story
Mei Huang meets August Claremont in the spring, when the air smells of rotten honeysuckles and mist. A chill rattles her bones even through her cardigan — a sure, swift wind that jostles her gait and forces her hands into thin denim pockets. Mei’s breath comes in sharp bursts: clouds
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Leaving the nest: A personal essay
It’s not only my family I miss. It’s everything about home. I miss the places. I miss Istanbul, the city that never sleeps.
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Don’t worry, your younger self would think you’re cool
Looking back at my eighth-grade self, the one with glittery t-shirts and braces, she definitely would have thought that college me was pretty dang cool.
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Patterns of a part-time adult
Sometimes I feel like I’m playing dress-up in my hospital scrubs, like I’m pretending to be a fully functioning adult even though I’m still a kid.
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Probe – 42 careers
If life is meaningless, how do we spend our time here? After an existential crisis about what to do with her life, Tanya heads to the streets of San Francisco and makes phone calls around the country to interview people about their careers — why they do what they do
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Expectations vs. reality of being a middle child
I am the middle child of three girls, and when I tell people, they either react with a surprised “woah,” a curious sympathetic expression with the question, “Do you have the middle child syndrome?” or some sort of empathy expressing that they are also a middle child.
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Common emotional stages of moving out and living alone
For all my life, I’ve always lived with somebody. This month marks the first time I’m living alone, and it’s thus far been an eye-opening process.
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