I made a bad joke on twitter a couple weeks ago, which honestly is like 75% of what I do on twitter, about how “crutching to class” sounds like it could be the
I bake when I’m stressed. There is something soothing about an act that seems almost second nature and allows me to focus on something other than my thoughts. I can angrily kneed, or
My synagogue holds it’s High Holy day services in a church. It seems strange, but it makes sense. Our congregation isn't that large, and it would be silly to build a larger sanctuary
This is America. This is where I live This is where the people I most like talking to live None of my good friends live anywhere near me. Which stinks. Like a lot.
I keep finding myself caught up on the path of expectations. Expectations of how to act, and what to say, and what to study, and how I’m supposed to live my life. Expectations