I get homesick when I look at pictures of the Sonoran desert. The gray-green Saguaro cacti, reaching their limbs past the distant, jagged mountain peaks toward a radiant blue sky, feel like family.
If there’s one thing I’m reasonably good at — and the list of things I can do is pretty low these days — it’s small talk about the weather.
My grandfather on my mom’s side of the family has a lexicon of cliches — a signature catchphrase, if you will, for almost any situation. “Put an egg in your shoe and beat it” happens to be my favorite, but there’s also one that I’ve only recently gained an appreciation for:
On a Saturday I sit in the Law library. I often do this, busy or not, wasting my time pretending I’m using my time wisely. If I’m sitting in the library, I’m working, right?
About 200 miles south of Ann Arbor, off exit 50 on I-275, and after a series of left and right turns, sits an old Tudor-style house.
“Shutting your eyes and acting like the problem is going to go away — it’s not going to go away. You have to actively oppose it. Intercept it. And that is how we solve problems.
The room is a labyrinth of ancient tables, antiques still in use. Above each one, fluorescent lights puncture maize and blue stained glass to reflect off the phenolic resin balls. Blue cue chalk stains the hands of the players and permeates the air to create a haze.
Like every good story, mine comes with a cup of coffee — an Americano with no room, to be exact.
Over the course of last semester, I wrote five columns about empathy — this one you're reading now is my sixth and final one.
Here at The Statement Magazine we’re interested in telling the stories that matter to this campus. Today, we’re talking about sex. How do you do it? How often? What do you know about reproductive health and sexual health?