I’m watching them, Sus and Choi- with something that resembles familiarity and also, as an outsider might. This is an active endeavor as knowledge of Sus is built into my DNA. Sus is funny. I know this with certainty, but I’m not sure whether she’s actively trying to amuse our tour guide or if this… Continue reading Sus and the Korean JGL.
Author: thepathtoworthy
Oh, Bob.
Activate your bob- screams advertisements and influencers alike. Image after image of women of all ages and their silky, shiny, chic bobs. Chin length, shoulder length, and even a slick bob- sculpted into something of a sassy helmut with an abundance of product and care. Some shaggy bobs, but not too messy. Just the kind… Continue reading Oh, Bob.
Aunt Sandy.
I wake with a start and realize that the window I shoved open in some perimenopausal spiral is still ajar. Any other April morning this might be acceptable, but a late cold front has hit New York, and I can feel the brutal chill in the air on the extremities that have escaped my quilt.… Continue reading Aunt Sandy.
EHC.
I keep wracking my brain trying to think of something clever to say. I stare at the cursor unforgivingly blinking at the top left corner of my screen and it’s making me increasingly anxious. There is something in me that wants to sound profound. Meaningful. Despair fills corners of my heart, and yet, overwhelmingly, I… Continue reading EHC.
Franz.
There’s a moment where I’m staring at the Zoom icon and then suddenly, his face fills the screen. I take him in in bits and pieces. Round tortoiseshell plastic framed glasses, broad forehead, full lips formed into a semi-frown and sweat dotting his hair line. I instantly wonder if he’s just come from some activity… Continue reading Franz.
Tilda.
I’m studying her profile in a way that would be obvious if she weren’t driving. Maybe it’s obvious anyway, but she’s not the kind to acknowledge, not in that way. Her skin is still perfect. I don’t think they use the expression peaches and cream anymore, but if they did, if I did, this would… Continue reading Tilda.
Tis my season.
I am eating fluffy, bright yellow scrambled eggs littered with small cut pieces of fresh tomato, with sliced banana on the side when the first notification appears. I carefully sip the hot espresso I made before I swipe open the app. It’s 10 a.m. or so here, which means it’s 6 a.m. or so, there.… Continue reading Tis my season.
Sorry, Sarah.
I pause and kick the broken asphalt just in front of the filthy right toe of my Asics. I need to change to a new pair, but I’m resistant because it’s still such shitty weather. Almost there, I think. Fucking asshole, I say into the foggy early morning air. What is bubbling inside of me… Continue reading Sorry, Sarah.
I like her teaching, too.
Melissa pats her caramel highlighted curls which perfectly fan out around her chartreuse fleece ear warmer. It’s unquestionably more expensive than the shitty Amazon purchased one I jammed on my head this morning. She is clearly uncomfortable. It wasn’t intentional on my part- to make her uneasy, but that’s also a part of me so… Continue reading I like her teaching, too.
A Day on Venus.
I’ve thought a lot about the way I navigate through the world. The way I often caveat or couch statements that I make. The way I offer apologies or concessions, to others, to myself, before it’s even necessary. The way I sidestep the thing I want to really say for fear of the reaction I… Continue reading A Day on Venus.
thepathtoworthy.com 