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We long to bend time like the Twizzlers we wrapped around our fingers when we were little, to turn seconds into eternities, to challenge the sunset to a race each night and shout, “We are here. We are breathing. We are alive.”

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An ice cream enthusiast’s dream come true.

Mr Umbilical Cord Cutter, whoever you are (who even cuts umbilical cords?), you didn’t quite get it right.

Nope. You goofed.

You definitely left one too many strands intact. And now, thanks to you, I am still attached to my mama.

It’s a conversation point. I get it. And I appreciate the effort. But can we please talk about something other than potential internships and job opportunities and summer courses?

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An ode to Olde Farms Road–the place that will always be home.

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A rumination on the tension between my desire to drop out of college tomorrow and stay in the world of academia forever.

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