Send, Dad
Ever since my dad got an iPad last year, he sees it fit to multitask: Read an article, and text me about it.
Leah Finnegan
Token Anxiety
As New York City changes, so do its trains; our worries about life above and below ground move hand in hand. So which came first, the jitters or the subway?
It’s All in Your Head
It begins as a dull ache, then the skull becomes hot and brittle, then the neck stiffens—and then there’s no escaping a migraine. A search for relief, temporary or otherwise.
Clenching the Night Away
A mouth guard can do more than save our enamel from nighttime gnashing. It may also shield us from our daily anxieties.
A Buyer’s Guide to American Colleges
Rare is the college graduate who’s attended more than one school. But when you’ve attended four very different types of university, it’s incumbent upon you to share what you’ve learned.
Deplorable, Lousy, Godawful, and Required
People complain that politics are worse than ever. It happens to be true. But history contains as many examples of the contentious, weird, and wacky as the present—and those absurdities are actually vital to our democracy.
Misogyny Soup
Have you thought about the patriarchy today? It’s still happening, you know. It was, and is, everywhere, especially literature. Here is some proof, via condescending love letters and “New Yorker” articles. Sorry to be such a bummer.
To Sleep, Perchance to Lose Consciousness
Every night before I go to bed, I like to have a glass of warm almond milk and watch an episode of “Frasier.” What do you do?
Mind the Law
I have a great lawyer—my uncle. He’s helped me with some shady stuff, like speeding tickets and my taxes. Here are some other lawyers you should know about.
Work, Work, Work, Die
Having a job is cool. Once I had the same one for two years, which is 8 percent of my life. I don’t work at that job anymore, so I guess I will not be breaking any tenure records soon.
Get Me Out of Here
Once in a while I think about giving up city life for the great unknown. Somewhere people don’t spit on the subway platform, or where you can get respite from the internet beyond the subway platform. Basically, any place where you don’t spend so much time thinking about the subway platform.
Myers-Briggsing Our Leaders
Sometimes—all the time—I think about presidents and presidential candidates, and what it would be like to meet them. My psychiatrist says it’s because I don’t get enough sleep, but I think it’s because I like to judge peoples’ personalities by their handshakes.
Pity the Progeny
According to Philip Larkin, our parents fuck us up. This is perhaps more true for children of celebrities, dictators, and renowned writers. Who can blame them?
Don’t Look at Me (Look at Me)
Americans take their privacy very seriously, which is why so many of us give all of our personal information to Facebook, LinkedIn, and Twitter, and then complain about it. Below are some folks who really don’t—or didn’t—want to be found out about.
Comeback Kings and Queens
One of the things I love about America is how willing the public is to accept someone stepping back into the spotlight (most of the time) (athletes especially). Well, you be the judge.
Till Death Do Us Part
All good things must come to an end. Like this column, and many celebrities, writers, and celebrity writers. See you on the other side.
Our Domiciles, Ourselves
Home is where the heart is. Or Lena Horne’s forks.
Shorty
When you were a toddler, doctors told your parents you had a "failure to thrive." Which means: You're small, and you're going to be short. Later, when medication helps you grow faster than you’ve ever grown before, the hardest part may be deciding when to stop.
Feel the Burn
My doctor says I should exercise three to four times per week. He told me walking to the subway doesn’t count (neither does walking home from it).
The Things They Married
Marriage seems cool. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. A wise friend once gave me some advice: always do a background check.
Hobby Lobby
I’ve gone through many hobbies in my short life: poetry, whittling, hot-gluing. But none can really hold my interest like internet navigation.
Best Friends
Right before I left for college, my dad told me I only needed two friends. He was wrong. I now have seven, and it’s pretty great. Among them are an old man who emails me life advice and a janitor I met in Egypt.
Our Previous Careers
Life is a river, man, you never know where it’s going to take you.
Tattoo You and Me
I recently got my first tattoo. It was very exciting.
Tweeting Into Oblivion
The internet can be a really fun cocktail party or a hall of horrors, full of people saying things you don’t want to hear. There’s always at least one day a month when I wish I didn’t know how to use it. Regardless, we can’t go back in time, so we must cope.
Trials, Triumphs, and What They Wore
I received my first ticket from the fashion police—my aunt Katie—at age five for wearing a red shirt with a pink skirt.
Our Better Halves
Dogs can be used to advance political careers, to bring life to sitcoms, to discover theorems. And that’s just the beginning.
The Diets of Others
We are what we eat. In my case, I am a Clif bar, black cherry-almond. My mother calls my diet The Lance Armstrong Lite Diet. I tell her, at least it’s not The Terrorist Diet.
Six Cabs to Superior Understanding
Foreign correspondents love to interview local cab drivers for their political opinions. Or sometimes just to hear the best jokes.
Sunshine for a Brother
Elliott Smith died seven years ago today in Los Angeles. Though he’s remembered mythically in the East Village, it was in Brooklyn where he was happy.
Pomp and Consequence
Celebrity graduation speakers should dispense wisdom and entertainment, or cause a scandal. Our writer found eight who managed to provide at least two out of three.
The Fabulous Papers
Journalism is dying, journalism is thriving, the end of the world is nigh—there’s a lot to be excited about. A report on the newspapers that prevailed by hook or crook in 2009.
The Surrogate Life
Being unemployed, and bearing colossal amounts of debt, can drive you to rash measures. Discovering the difficulty of renting out one’s womb.