Uniqueness Is Wasted On Youth. Like Fine

Because I Am A Horrible Flincher, Contact Lenses Are Not An Option. I'm Always Envious Of Contact-wearers. There Are Endless Reasons To Take Off One's Glasses During The Day And, As I Have Grown Older, What I Don't See Has Become Increasingly Pronounced.

I Don't Understand How You Can Be A Decent Writer And Not Know People.

I Used To Think That Nails-down-a-chalkboard Was The Worst Sound In The World. Then I Moved On To People-eating-cereal-on-the-phone. But Only This Week Did I Stumble Across The Rightful Winner: It's The Sound Of A Baggage Carousel Coming To A Grinding Halt, Having Reunited Every Passenger On Your Flight With Their Luggage, Except For You.

Brits And Americans Have Hundreds Of Different Phrases For The Same Thing. Luckily, It's Usually A Source Of Amusement Rather Than Frustration. A Flashlight By Any Other Name Is Still A Torch. My Personal Favourite Is 'fairy Lights,' Which We Boringly Refer To As 'christmas Lights.'

I Do Think New York Prepares You For The Crossection Of Personalities And Realities On Display When You Leave The Country, And I'd Live Somewhere Else If I Had A Reason Or Burning-the-the-point-of-discomfort Desire To Do So.