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When I was a fifth-grader, I overheard some kid in my French class say that I was one of the most pessimistic people he knew. Not really a compliment for a person of any age. But I guess his assessment was, in many ways, true. My chosen reaction — and
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Here at Berkeley, we always hear one friend or another talking about their boyfriend or girlfriend back home. Our first question is always, “Isn’t it hard doing long distance?” You never really think it will happen to you until, well, it does. Picture this: You’re home for summer vacation and
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I guess when I look back, it was all a question of semantics. Words were vital to me, a part of my essence — but not a part of yours. When I was younger, I would sit in my room for hours devouring my favorite poems by Dickinson and Poe,
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The hickey exposed: a smear of magenta. The love bite interpreted: force upon flesh. We have left behind sleeves to wear hearts on our necks. Coined in the early years of the 20th century, “hickey” is an Americanism of obscure origin that, unromantically phrased by science, is nothing more than
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This would be easier if I shed data, sought torture or was looking for love along the way. Doing the 9-5, the rattlesnake on the sandstone gets nicked by everything churning in the wind. The July sun tunnels overhead. My van rusts where the paint’s chipped. Steel, the desert must
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At age 18, in Long Beach, California, I made some goals for me — most prominent being to turn 20 in Berkeley. Truthfully, I was very unsure what my next goal would be, but with Berkeley being Berkeley, finding goals to set for oneself is never too much of something
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The brief online description declares: Feathers will fly! It’s still unclear who, exactly, has the means to destroy a real down-filled pillow. But why not find out? San Francisco’s recurring Valentine’s Day pillow fight is scheduled for Saturday at the Justin Herman Plaza around dusk. No charge — just bring
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Flora sat at a window booth in a 24-hour diner and sipped her coffee, inhaling the rich aroma and trying not to let the liquid burn her tongue. She perused the menu in front of her. It made a lot of promises. Hashbrowns, best in town. Belgian waffles, big as
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Oh, Valentine’s Day. Oh, what horrid person decided to dedicate an entire 24 hours to making the self-esteem of every single person plummet exponentially? Whether you’re newly single or perpetually single (and you have the Taylor Swift playlists to prove it), it’s still agonizing to watch your fellow friends excitedly
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I have been lucky enough to know love across oceans and continents, across thousands of miles. I know what it is to trace the outline of someone’s pixelated face when it freezes mid-Skype, defined by its poor resolution and candid capture.
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