We've all been held hostage by group text messages; I'm currently being updated on my aunt's availability to return something to Chico's with my grandma after her volunteer service at the library. But I kind of like the pain of... Continue Reading →
The year was 2004, the spring. I was a tree-hugging, protesting, politicized, hippie sophomore taking International Politics at UCSB. I remember when he walked in the door. He was wearing a tan coat, rocking a jewfro and four day stubble.... Continue Reading →
