Category: Reflections

Love in the Orange Bubble

“I scribbled a question on my scrap of paper and tossed it into the designated baseball hat: Can you tell us a little about hookups and relationships at school?”

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Telescoping Clothing

Musings on the clothes we wear, and how they alter us.

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Little Fish

On names and family history.

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Fake Housewives, Get Out

In which a writer contemplates the influence of housewives, real and fake.

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Saturday Afternoon

“We stood, then sat, like that for a while: just ourselves, so small. It made us feel so together and so apart, as if it were the first day we met.”

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Smoke ‘Em If You Got ‘Em

I am walking home from the U-Store around 10pm on the first night I can remember not feeling cold after sunset. My Arrested Development poster of Tobias’ jean shorts keeps falling down and I need tape, but they only have the University-approved wall adhesive that mothers buy on your first day of college that you never use.

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John Wheeler

“Black hole.” “Wormhole.” These are terms familiar to any English speaker if not from science fiction literature and films, then at least from pinball machines and arcade games. For a generation raised on Star Wars they have become all too familiar, yet they have not been around for very long. Both the two terms and the theory behind them were coined by one man – the late Princeton Professor Emeritus John Wheeler – in the late 1950s and 60s.

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The Children’s Book That Hurt Me Most: Three Experts Discuss

A Nass writer seeks closure for Each Kindness, a children’s book without a resolution.

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You Are Dancing on a Slick Gym Floor

Watch the balloons sway in the center of the slick dance floor. You are here and you are not here, swaying yourself on too-thin heels and much too much mixed drink. Tie your hair back. You’re hopped up on hoping the ending of your night will deliver what the beginning has promised since you fished your junior prom dress out of the dorm closet you’re sure has moths.

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Without Even Kissing

Thinking of you is like touching a dead bird: I know it can’t hurt me but I recoil for fear that somehow it might touch me back.

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Reality Check

If there were a billboard advertising you, what would it say?” The final question of the Residential College Adviser application was the one I thought about the most, and I was actually rather proud of my answer. While the application was … Read More

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Who in the Pinke

Twenty-two years and some number between one and 365 days before this article was published, I, William Pinke, bungee-jumped out my mother’s womb and into the world, a mindless, hairless, obese blank slate. I was given only four things that day: my name, my brain, my body, and a blanket. Since then, I have carried each through every stage of my development, but of the four only my name has remained unchanged.

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