Lisa J. Mogilanski
Twenty-one, for me, doesn’t mean much; but sitting here on the cusp of adulthood, I can’t help but be apprehensive.
But, broadly speaking, self-acceptance is not my style—I prefer slowly and painfully to analyze (and hopefully eliminate) my flaws.
Does this relationship between intelligence and misery hold? Statistical evidence suggests otherwise: I.Q. and happiness appear to vary together. Statistics can be powerful, and it is generally irresponsible to ignore them. But when they contradict the conclusion that you’re trying to establish, I recommend pointing out that rogue and lackadaisical econometricians can get up to all sorts of funny business, like forgetting to use heteroskedasticity-robust standard errors (the nerve of some people).
I was five years old when I experienced heartbreak for the first time.
Because the question of who will govern best is murky, we often avoid asking it outright.
In part that’s because, for me, the city’s a little soiled by the routine of everyday life. But it’s also because the historical dust has little time to settle before it’s kicked up by pedestrians and cabs in the conversion of present to future.
I remind myself that I’m not dead yet—one day I’ll see the world, or maybe Hoboken. But as time dissolves behind me, it feels odd that I’m not sorry to see it go.
ELMONT, New York—Do you know who Man o’ War was? Kelso? Citation?
New York City’s largest borough is also the most ethnically diverse place on earth. This makes for an excellent variety of cuisines, from “Mama’s Empanadas” to “Knish Nosh” to the less clever but no less descriptive “Himalayan Yak Restaurant.” It also makes it fun to ride the subway and smile/frown/raise your eyebrows as you pretend to understand whatever language the old men across from you are speaking.
If Prohibition and The Wire taught us anything, it’s that the substance-dependent will go underground for a fix. But don’t expect a showdown between a modern Al Capone and Eliot Ness. The NYC regulation, which a judge ruled was “fraught with arbitrary and capricious consequences,” would have exempted supermarkets and convenience stores. Ironically, that means the 7-Eleven Big Gulp in Sarah Palin’s defiant hand at CPAC would have been kosher. In other words, the proposed Cambridge ban would only force the particularly thirsty to go to supermarkets to buy their soda in bulk.
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