Endpaper
What’s Up With Tat?: Why I’m Not Ready For Children
We were laughing so hard my parents thought we were drunk—which given that it was 6:00 p.m. on a Tuesday, would not be unheard of.
Squealing and Snorting and Growing Up
The sillies are uncontrollable. No matter the trigger, they induce tearful fits of laughter lasting anywhere from 30 seconds to over an hour.
As a Whirlwind
Over summer I ate things I fished myself and drank water I drew up from a well. I did drawings in a sketchbook that nobody saw. I talked to a dog. I spent whole days having sex with the curtains drawn. I painted my grandmother’s toenails.
House on a String
Two weeks before moving, I learned that the “inventor” of the yo-yo, Louis Marx, had lived a few blocks away from my then home.
Overexposed in Austin
On the highway later, I looked down at the odometer: 85 m.p.h. It didn’t feel all that fast. It was the landscape’s lack of landmarks.
Yellow Lines
I killed my brother. I hurt my brother. I betrayed my brother. I pushed my brother away.
Ongoing Contract Negotiations To Bring In Mediator
The Harvard Union of Clerical and Technical workers released an open letter last week explaining the union’s position on the most contentious topics in its ongoing contract negotiations with the University.
Harvard and the Charters
In their efforts to offer top-knotch public education in Cambridge, CCSC, Prospect Hill Academy, and Benjamin Banneker Charter Public School have tapped into Harvard’s resources during their fledgling years.
In Rows and Lines
The other day, my boyfriend’s mom gave him an ant farm. I hadn’t seen one since I was young. It was one of those twin-windowed plastic set-ups. Between two clear plastic panels just smaller than pieces of printer paper, 25 mail-order ants are placed beneath sand and soil and kept from escaping by talcum powder—or in more elaborate arrangements, by a moat. In there the ants dig tunnels, build roadways, construct a viable city that is less than an inch wide.