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Plus 4 writing tips for all those high school seniors out there shooting for the stars. The inspiration for this post comes from my big fat quarter-life crisis. As I continually redefine myself and discover who I am now, I can’t help but reflect on my past and who I was. This post kicks off a series of reflections over my life since Stanford. Here’s the essay: Clay When I think back upon my brother’s
My dog is a feminist. She hates bras and men. Estrellita is her name. Little star. As often as she can, Estrellita does us the honorable service of destroying our bras. With her cunning nose she hunts them down, wherever they may lurk, like the closet or my gym bag. Then, she uses her precise, vicious teeth to hack away at the confining wire hooks. You know, the part of the bra that makes
My life is not that funny. Everything usually turns out right. The other day, I told my dad, “I saw a mouse once. It was the scariest moment of my life.” He responded, “You have lived a very protected life.” But, it really was scary. There I was, sitting on the toilet, minding my own business, when, all of a sudden, I feel something tiny and squirmy next to my foot,
My Grandma Pat
Category: Family
Let me tell you about my Grandma Pat. My Grandma Pat was a funny, Southern lady. A hoot. And she always had a story up her sleeve. What a storyteller she was! I’d listen for hours to her long-winded tales of our past, wide-eyed and big-eared, always hungry for more. My favorite story of hers is the one where my father convinced his little brother, my uncle, to jump off the top