I have tried, like every other self-indulgent twenty-somethings in this country, to find myself. And the self I found turns out to be a grandma. Over the past few years, I have allowed myself to gravitate toward the things I like. And initially, the things I liked were things I approved of such as an unhealthy obsession with books and notebooks, a career in medicine, being artsy. Then they became a little funky but still nice like knitting, anthropology, and psychiatry. But over the past few months, I've become something I can't recognize. I like to take bubble baths and read in the tub. I look forward to Sunday so that I can curl up with the Sunday Times. I drink tea and light up candles. I sit in from of the TV and knit. Okay, maybe not a grandma, but definitely a middle-aged white woman I have become.

Finally!

Oh, why did it never occur to me to look this up on the internet? I can now finally venture OUTSIDE of my house with the New York Times...