I remember as a freshman dreading Valentine's Day, regarding it as a sappy, stupid holiday for sex-crazed kids with not enough homework and too much hormones. I remember looking out from my 12 story apartment on Union Square West, watching the pairs of heads walking together. I imagined men and women laughing, smiling, giggling and flirting. I thought them pathetic and stupid to waste their time on frivolous fantasies of love. In fact, my first Valentine's Da was spent listening to a lecture from my parents, who came with food for me. I had left my cellphone in my apartment, while I was across the hall, watching The Daily Show with the guys. Two of my extended roommates that year were Presidential Scholars, (both in medical school now), the third was a Honors Psychology student. There was no funny business going on between us, in our asylum of Anti-Valentine's Day. I was happy for my actual roommates who were dressed to get laid, with their faces layered in shiny stuff and
I began writing as an outlet for narcissism but found that blogging was more about the people in my world than about me. I am at my core a writer and educator with interests in community- building, social justice, markets, philanthropy, and academia. I am forging a path with your Dad, who I got to know mostly through the comments section of this blog. This is my story, and I'm happy to share it with you, my daughter.