Cover via Goodreads.
Rating: 3/5 stars.
The Age of Miracles details eleven-year-old Julia’s coming of age in a California suburb amidst the decline of the earth. The planet spins slower and slower, leading to gravity sickness, shortages of energy, dead birds, and more. In the middle of the chaos Julia comes to terms with the imperfections of her parents, the pains of an awkward adolescence, and her feelings for Seth Moreno, the boy down the street.
Karen Thompson Walker does not focus so much on the science behind the earth’s slowing or the slowing’s disastrous consequences. Continue reading
By the time I was ten, I wanted to dye my hair blond. At 12, I wrote in a journal that I was going to run away. Around the age of 14 I fought for people – but most importantly, myself – to accept me irrespective of my sexuality. 16 marks the period in which I discovered my purpose, to make a change. In one way or another I’ve done all of these things, through various proxies like bleach on a best friend’s toothbrush or a personal blog I’ve come to call home. Now the question remains: what is 18? Continue reading
In less than a week, I’ll be seventeen.
I’ve always been independent. As a toddler, I played with my toys alone. In middle school, books came before drama and socializing. Even now, in high school, I like to keep a part of myself closed off from others – not because I’m a misanthrope, but because
I have no friends there are things that I’m not quite comfortable sharing. I’m sure everyone knows how that feels.
But in the past couple of years, I’ve opened up a lot. To the readers of this blog, to my close friends in real life, and even to myself, to an extent. A lot has happened this year, especially, that has forced me to reevaluate my perspective of people and of life.
And right when I’m reaching a steady spot, things change. Continue reading
This takes place roughly two days after this incident. My mom and I are in the car; she is driving, and I am in the passenger seat.
“Did you see your AP Psychology grade?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“You have a 99%,” she says,” I bet you’re at the top of the class.”
“Teachers love students who work hard,” she goes on,” I’m sure it brings your teacher great happiness to have a student who works as hard as you do.”
I nod. Usually, when I’m with my mom, I don’t speak. Not because I’m afraid, though that is the case some times, but because that’s just how it is. She talks. I listen.
“I saw some people on the red carpet,” she says. I assume she is referring to the Hollywood stars.
“They wear black pants with white shirts like you wanted,” she says,” when I saw them, I thought, maybe you do have some fashion sense.”
The infamous black pants. Perhaps I will post a picture of me wearing them.