My Beautiful Obsession, Chapter Eight, part three

She pulls the Ducati to a stop in front of me with a flourish, and I can’t help jumping back, startled, at the spray of gravel. She’s smiling, actually grinning in delight, as she pulls off the helmet. Her burnished, decadent hair falls, tousled, around her shoulders. Oh, how I want to run my fingers…

This 80s chick LOVED Sierra Burgess is a Loser

One of the things I’ve been trying to do this summer is catch up on contemporary YA pop culture. It sounds silly, but truthfully, when you have been immersed in a specific historical era for academic study and realize you haven’t read a fiction book published post-Eisenhower Era in a couple years, you find you’ve…

My Beautiful Obsession, Chapter Eight, part one

Chapter Eight Downstairs, in a brightly-lit underground garage, Lark leads me past a row of gleaming automobiles, a half-dozen of them. It’s like a luxury showroom, and even I recognize several of the most exclusive automobiles known to man, all pristine silvers and blacks: a Porsche Panamera Executive, a Lamborghini Veneno, a convertible Jaguar XJR,…

Rethinking the Culture of Call Outs

My darlings, I’m going to say it: I think I’m done with call-out culture. I know. I’m an activist, a feminist, a member of multiple social organizations, a regular demonstrator/marcher, and an outspoken advocate for LGBTQ+ rights, #BLM, disability awareness re: depression, anxiety, and suicidal impulses, not to mention against pretty much everything the current…