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If Twitter Responded To Abuse Reports Honestly

I spend too much time on Twitter. And, frankly, it‘s awful. Every day is like wading through a sea of poop to try and find a cupcake, and even when you find that, it‘s like, Well, I can‘t possibly eat this cupcake. It‘s covered in poop. As a writer, Twitter becomes a sort of necessary

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From the Mediterranean to Cheddar Bay.

My husband and I are driving through southern Oregon, like we have every summer since we were married. I see a Red Lobster. I scream. I tell him to pull over immediately. He ignores me. After more than a decade together he can distinguish between my ‘something is urgently wrong‘ scream and my ‘I need

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Cut Scenes from a Cafe In Quebec

I have an excellent memory. In the aftermath of my brain surgery, my biggest fear was that my ability to recount past events was damaged in some way. Under the haze of anesthesia, I walked around the park near our old home with Rand, struggling to piece together the last few days. I‘d struggled through

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Two Tricks To Becoming A Better Writer

Last weekend, I briefly opened up my Twitter DMs and told people to message me their questions about travel or blogging, or, failing that, implored them to simply send me cat gifs. I was amazed by the response - dozens of people replied, absolutely no one took the opportunity to tell me I was a

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We Have To Talk About the Dead Dog on the United Flight. Sorry.

(Note: the adorable little guy pictured above is not the dog from the story. I bumped into him while shopping and thought he was a weird, furry keychain dangling from a guy‘s bag at first.) If you read the news in the last two days, you might have caught the story that is presently haunting

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Pillow Fight.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a married man in possession of a house will one day find himself in a shouting match with his spouse about something trivial like throw pillows. All of this will likely happen at IKEA. If that man has refused to go to IKEA, because he has justly concluded

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OSF Opening Weekend 2018: Sense & Sensibility, Destiny of Desire, and Henry V

A strange thing happens when you become a theater nerd of the highest order - you develop a relationship not just with the characters within a play, or even the play itself, but - if circumstances allow - with the theater company as a whole. Every season takes on its own personality, and you find

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I Watched All the Fast and the Furious Movies in A Week.

Over the last week, I have watched the entire Fast and the Furious series. The impetus for embarking on such an artistically dubious project was a promise that I made years ago to my husband, probably while drunk. I told him that the next time I was struck with the sort of mind-numbing illness that

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The Real Reason I Hate Traveling Alone.

When I got home, I cried. Finally. Rand hugged me, wore that same worried look he gets on his face when something goes wrong and he‘s not there for it. For a long time I wondered what it was about me that meant the second I went on a trip on my own, things started

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Knight Scoop, I Love You.

It is a strange statement of fact to say that I was on Japanese television long before I ever watched it. The circumstances of our engagement (which, for the uninitiated, was a very public proclamation involving the purchase of a local television commercial and, on my part at least, a great deal of screaming) meant

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