yesterday, on my flight back to chicago from atlanta, i was mysteriously bumped to first class, for no reason at all that i could ascertain. it was truly, TRULY, the most magical experience i’ve had, ever, in my life. i’m gonna find me a rich hubby so i can only ever ride first class again. i don’t need “has an impressive art collection” money, i don’t need “targeted by wine forgers” money, i don’t even need “sets up a scholarship at a local college” money. i just want that F

i wasn’t cool in high school. i’m sure that’s not surprising to any of you. i mean, i was okay? i had friends. people liked me. but i was, by no stretch of the imagination, “cool.” my mom was significantly cooler than i was, and i know that to be true because of all the times people asked if we could go to my house for the weekend so that they could hang out with my mom. honestly, the fact that social anxiety is not one of my numerous neuroses is a small miracle. JUST DAMNED

There is a spot on my running route where I lose sight of the city. I am surrounded by the lake, blue, blue, so blue I can taste it. This must be what it is like to be a fish: the sweet tang of water, and infinity. Then I make the turn, and the city rushes back, rising up with its face to the sky. I have seen this hundreds of times. The lake, the turn, the city. But it fills my heart up every time. I must make a bowl of my hands to carry the overflow. It feels like love but i