Swimming is a confusing sport, because sometimes you do it for fun, and other times you do it to not die. And when I’m swimming, sometimes I’m not sure which one it is.
I stand on the edge of the pool and jump.
I stand on the edge of the pool and jump.
Okay, I’ll start off by saying that the title to to this blog post is very misleading (a trend in a lot of my titles). I was a bookworm and a nerd in high school (not much has changed tbh). Let me put it this way, one of my favorite high school memories was representing Iran in Model UN. My friend and I even founded the Model UN club at our school. Yeah, I think that sums it up quite well.
Last week, I wrote about my frustrations keeping up with the news. That post reminded me of the time I spread fake news before it was cool…
Mrs. Henderson was clearly losing the battle against her yard. Weeds had taken over most of it, and the overgrown grass hid a few newspapers scattered across the lawn.
Kate sighed as she picked up yet another newspaper on her driveway. She lazily threw it over the fence to join the others on Mrs. Henderson’s yard. To the dismay of both women, the Tribune never seemed to deliver the paper to the right house. Even after numerous complaints.
All Kate wanted to do was take off her heels and relax in front of the television with a glass of wine, which is exactly what she did. It had been a lousy Monday.
Are you ready to be the leading lady of your love life? Do you want to begin your “happily ever after” starting tomorrow?
With this handy new guide, NOW YOU CAN! For a limited time Valentine’s Day offer, I’m releasing a free excerpt of my forthcoming self-help book, From Plucky Comic Relief to Main Romantic Interest in 30 Days (Pre-ordering available soon). I’ve dedicated half of my life to exploring how Hollywood has provided all the answers to life’s hardest questions about love: “What should I wear?” “Will he like me?” and even the classic, “Should I bring a burger in my purse in case the line at the restaurant is 2 miles long because it’s Valentine’s Day?” Fret no longer. Below, I’ve compiled some of the best nuggets of wisdom romantic films have taught us over the years. You’ll have him saying, “As you wish” like Westley before you know it.
The original title for this post was “Minimalism: I watched a Netflix documentary, read a few blogs, and now, I’m an expert” but I decided to minimize it to simply “Minimalism.” for obvious reasons.
“The U.S-Mexican border es una herida abierta where the Third World grates against the first and bleeds. And before a scab forms it hemorrhages again, the lifeblood of two worlds merging to form a third country — a border culture.
Borders are set up to define the places that are safe and unsafe, to distinguish us from them. A border is a dividing line, a narrow strip along a steep edge. A borderland is a vague and undetermined place created by the emotional residue of an unnatural boundary. It is in a constant state of transition. The prohibited and forbidden are its inhabitants.”
These days, my idea of living dangerously is going grocery shopping without a list.
-Someone on the internet
I already shared this story on Facebook, but I thought the event was humorous enough to repost on here. Enjoy!
“The realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.”
“Tell me what you see,” he said.
“Okay. There’s a pole about 10 ft. in front of us, and behind the pole, is the ocean,” she responded calmly.
“Yeah the ocean. It’s big and all around us. I think the sun will be setting soon too.”
“Oh, is there a beach?” he asked and gripped his white cane a little tighter.
“No, not really,” she said. “Between the pole and the ocean there’s a bunch of big rocks that lead down to the water.”
He breathed deeply and felt the ocean breeze play with his hair. Then, he put his arm around her shoulders. “Tell me what you see.”
“I see you…”
And he leaned in for a kiss.
I thought about naming this post “Great Expectations,” but I didn’t want to deal with angry, disappointed Dickens groupies, asking about ruin in the Victorian novel.
But this post IS about expectations. Here’s a tale as old as two years ago, during my “wild” college days in Buenos Aires. The story has all the makings of a mediocre film: late night adventures in a foreign city, a charismatic group of friends, and a chance at love.*