Back in junior year of high school, my AP US History teacher scared the heck out of everyone. I think he liked me well enough, but I recall how every time he would ask a question – what was the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo? why did Andrew Jackson shut down the National Bank? – all my classmates and I would look down at our notes, afraid of making eye contact. One day, he asked a different type of question.
“How much good do I have to do?” he asked. “I work hard to teach you guys, I do my best to be a good husband to my wife and a good father to my kids. But how much more am I responsible for?”
As a freshman in college, that question still gets to me. Continue reading
“Your first free write is to describe a setting,” my Creative Writing professor says. “Any setting. Go.”
My classmates’ pens hit paper like divers launching into a swimming pool – a blur of movement, and they’re off, splashes of syllables and sentences trailing in their wake. Meanwhile, I clutch the edge of the desk, my pencil forgotten in the kiddie pool.
“I cannot believe you would date him,” I say. “He’s clearly an idiot. Like 2% milk, just replace ‘milk’ with ‘brain cells.’”
Wait, I think, that’s dialogue, not setting. By the time I finish one sentence about a sprawling suburbia filled with shallow parents longing for their kids to do something other than each other, my professor calls time. I glance at my friend across from me, and I take a small breath of relief when I see she’s only written a couple of sentences.
Until she flips the page of her notebook, revealing several fleshed-out paragraphs. Go figure. Continue reading
On Wednesday, I felt unwanted.
Today, it took me an hour to write the first sentence – that sentence, about Wednesday – of an emotional, super personal, and rather melodramatic blog post. Continue reading
As someone who possesses a natural suspicion toward human beings, I tend to befriend only a few. With my college years coming to a close – well, with three and a half years left, but – and my already non-existent social life fading away, I’ve caught myself contemplating this question: why do I have friends? Why do I hang out with the people I hang out with? Is friendship intrinsically selfish? Why would others even consider associating with me when I make weird animal noises and overuse the words “pulchritudinous” and “twerk”? Continue reading
Some statements addressed to me by friends, family, and other folk:
“Wow Thomas, I see you with a book all the time! How do you even find time to read?”
“Thomas, as a busy college student, you must really have no friends or no life to read as much as you do.”
“Why am I writing this blog post when I could be reading Game of Thrones? Why do I do anything when I could be reading Game of Thrones?”
Okay, the last one belongs to me – but I do have a sincere reason. Continue reading
Filed under Books, Personal
After over 530,000 views, 400 posts, and 4,300 comments, I almost cannot believe today marks this blog’s three year anniversary. I feel guilty for not posting for so long
and I need to throw in an incentive for people to still read this anyway like who actually reads this anymore so here’s a picture of me in heels from senior year:
I need to wear these more often. They really enhance your height. And your calves.
I officially finished my finals – and my first semester of college – just yesterday. Continue reading
I swallow cold air and bite frosty wind, leaping out of my dorm for a late night jog. Wearing a thin jacket and shorts, I let darkness envelop me and whisk me away from my essay due in two hours. As my feet pound the pavement, each thump in rhythm with some trashy pop song, an old friend assaults me, appearing from the shadowed buildings of colonial Williamsburg. He asks if I’m really making the most of my time at college, if I’m really doing all that I can, if -
A tree branch trips me and I hit the ground with a thud. Continue reading
“Forgive her,” the man says.
A mask hides his face and a grey cloak covers his body. He holds a sleek whip, its length running along his arm. I cannot move, trapped by invisible bonds that tie me to the floor. His fingers caress the whip and I shake my head. Continue reading
I love my college. The people act with consideration and compassion, the academics keep my mind alive, and the opportunities available continue to amaze me. But all of this – the social life, the challenging schoolwork, the myriad of commitments – comes with a cost: stress. Continue reading
A minor spat with the roommate, a lot of reading, not much time to relax, some forced socializing, a lost room key – all of that and more, in my first twelve days at college. Continue reading