You are 28 and you feel like a rubbed-raw carcass, scraps of flesh clinging to the bone. Your new therapist tells you that it must be both exhilarating and exhausting to be in your head, to process the way you do. Yes, you think — and say, because you believe in a fairly short line between thinking and saying —...
Up until this year, my longest romantic relationship was a few weeks of infatuation and awkward makeouts that I’d shared with another knock-kneed fourteen-year-old during my freshman year of high school. My store of relationship understanding was pulled in equal parts from having watched Friends from pilot to finale two times through; having read novels, many of which featured a...
On the bus into Montevideo a few months ago, I was curled up in a window seat reading the screenplay for When Harry Met Sally. It was an attempt to see how screenplays work—I told y’all, I want to write one about that magical afternoon in Bariloche—and also just a wildly entertaining read. I finished it with half an hour...
In 10th-grade Spanish, we had to do a report on a Latin American city. I was assigned Montevideo, which I couldn’t figure out how to pronounce, so I flip-flopped between “Mon-tay-VID-ee-o” and “Montay-vid-AY-o” throughout my entire presentation. Since then, I hadn’t thought much about Uruguay or its capital city until I started planning my trip, and even then, I afforded...