Confessions of a Logophile

The Jazz Age. An era of new, shiny things— flashy nightlife, extravagant parties, and the lively music of tipsy, outrageous youth. But aside from material elements, this era brought sexual liberation, redefinitions of age old gender roles, and the freedom to choose how you wanted to find love. However, to really understand how revolutionary this era was for romance, we have to go all the way back to the Victorian Era.  In the 1800s (back before dating was even a thing), men used to use calling cards during the ‘social season’ (spring and summer) to court young women as their wives. Men looking to court a woman would give their card of information to the butler, and line up in her house. Each would have some time to talk to her parents, have refreshments, and watch her play piano, sing, or display some other talent solely for the man’s entertainment. Marriage wasn’t just a relationship between two people at the time, but a family affair. The general age for a woman to enter the soci...

Based on a passage of ‘Where I lived and What I Lived For’ by Henry David Thoreau Ever feel like you’re bored with your monotonous life? Relax . Follow my footsteps. Go live in the woods. No joke. I’m being completely serious. I wanted to find out what it was like to live a Real Life, with only what we were intended  to use, like a complete nomad. Call me crazy, but I want to experience living that’s absent of material wants, with only what nature has to offer. I want to lead a life as deep as the groundwater beneath us, and as sturdy as the great redwoods. To live a life so full that I feel like I might burst if I speak to another being. To feel the weight of the rain and the wind and the stars and to accept all of what Mother Nature provides to me with open arms. That profoundly intense feeling that you’re full of Real Life , that’s what I want. To squeeze the Real Life in my hands like an orange until it is only the most concentrated, powerful parts of itself, and, if Real Lif...

I remember the afternoon of October 14th, 2022, very clearly. I was sitting at the kitchen table, bundled in fuzzy socks and my winter coat because our heater had broke. I was eating cold pizza in a cold house, ready go out and walk down the block to my art class.  On the news channel I put on absentmindedly, a headline about Van Gogh streamed across the screen. We’d learned about him just last week, so I snapped out of my daze and focused on the display.  CLIMATE PROTESTERS THROW SOUP ON VAN GOGH’S ‘THE SUNFLOWERS’ It went on to show the two culprits being arrested by police officers. They looked younger than I’d thought they’d be. Fresh out of high school. A dramatic close up of the tomato soup covered painting followed.  It didn’t look too bad to me. And I remember thinking that there there were worse people to focus on arresting as I made my way out the door.  The woman who taught our small Saturday class of 7 held her lessons in her basement. The other floors of...

In class this week, we read a piece called 'The Partly Cloudy Patriot'. It followed the casual thoughts of Sarah Vowell, and were a collection of her musings on patriotism, society, and the sense national unity that surrounded the aftermath of 9/11. She wrote of how the meaning of the American flag had changed-- the days following the attack, the flag was a symbol of pure American grief over those lost, but also a mark of the togetherness that connected the nation. Even after we had finished discussing the piece, it sparked a train of thought of what else had the power to connect the masses. The most obvious things came to mind first; the Internet, everyone's immeasurable need for companionship, and sports (not for all of us, because I still don't understand football). But there are also things that are hidden directly in plain sight.  We all own socks.  That's right. Whether they're no-shows or knee highs, dress socks or patterned, all socks serve a particular ...

When I think back to my lazy summers in elementary school, I think of large, melting Slurpees, rainbow chalk dusted palms, red scrapes and princess band-aids from falling off of my bike, and having absolutely no cares in the world. I didn't have any knowledge on pressing social issues, I didn't have an educated political stance, and if you asked me who the president was, I would've probably said Tinkerbell. The most important thing in the world to me at the time was whether I could remember my Animal Jam log-in or not. I can't remember exactly when that stopped being what summer felt like, but now, I only feel a deep sense of nostalgia-- and I'm sure it's the same for many of us. Over the summer, we compiled a list of 10 events that happened in the world. When I finally sat down to think of what I should write about, depressing news was the first to pop up in my mind. It wasn't a conscious decision at all-- it was simply what I remembered the most. When we c...