Fourth of July growing up in Texas was sticky. My cousins and I would start the day gathering our bikes, strollers, wagons—anything with wheels—and draping them in red, white, and blue to create a circle-driveway parade at my grandfather’s house. By 10 am, it was over 100 degrees, so we’d plunge our sticky selves into the pool and fill our bellies with watermelon and those special processed snacks that you could always count on from Pappaw…
Read MoreI didn’t plan to be an Angeleno. When I moved to LA for college, I had a smattering of dreams. Maybe I would chase the Hollywood life? I majored in Theater. Maybe I would be a songwriter? I wrote some really terrible poetry. Maybe I would nanny in Germany? I joined a dating-like app that paired me with some families. Maybe I’d just find a “good Christian husband” and follow him wherever he went? I got matched on an actual dating app with a few real-life (just) friends.
Read MoreIt took me more than a decade to realize that Los Angeles had seasons.
Read MoreReposted from Cornerstone West LA. When I went back home to Texas for the summer after my first year at USC, I had a conversation with a close friend of mine that has stuck with me to this day. We were catching up on our college experiences, and she shared with me how she had recently felt convicted about her addiction to caffeine...
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