Cleaning Out My Closet and My Heart
Moving is not fun. I’ve been at it for two weeks. I’m tired. I’m cranky. My back hurts, and my hands are torn from ripping…
Moving is not fun. I’ve been at it for two weeks. I’m tired. I’m cranky. My back hurts, and my hands are torn from ripping…
The second I got off the bus I realized that I had no idea where I was going. I was somewhere in Southern Poland —…
I’ve been stressed out. A full-blown, out-of-my-mind, can’t-think-straight stressed out. I’m 22 and one year out of college. People keep telling me that this is…
Growing up, I always knew Dad’s side of the family was Polish. I knew we had a special affinity for sausages and cabbage, that we…
I’ll admit it, I watch the “Jersey Shore.” I’m addicted to the antics of The Situation, the lovable Pauly D, and overly coiffed Snooki. I…
Facebook and I are not friends at the moment. We’ve been good acquaintances for years, overall no major qualms. If I had to classify us…
Ever since the Oslo attacks my heart has started racing a little faster every time I board the U-Bahn in the morning. It races even faster when I disembark and make the 10-minute walk through the incredibly tourist-dense section of Berlin where I work. Pushing past Gypsies, I scan German, American, and British tourists’ faces checking out the remains of the Berlin Wall and can’t help but wonder, could something like that ever happen here? Oslo is such a sleepy European city; surely Berlin has to be an even bigger target. Quite frankly, it scares me.
I try to quiet my racing thoughts when they start circling irrationally. I hate that when I am afraid I feel like I am letting the terrorists win.
I never really knew what the word Catholic meant until I went to Stanford. In my previous Catholic school life it was never a label,…