The “Don’t Say Gay” bill, if passed, would be detrimental to LGBT youth.
Florida’s Legislature is poised to ban transgender girls and women — kindergarten through college-age — from competing throughout the state with cisgender female teammates.
For the past two years or so, we’ve been a bit preoccupied with COVID-19 pandemic.
Your best friend definitely has an opinion. You need advice and she offers an answer, though it might not be the one you seek.
You always wanted to make your mark. There'd be no footstep-following in your life.
You'd do anything for your friends. You help them in school when they need it, or with a loan in a pinch.
You love Bette Davis. Always have, always will.
There are two sides to every story. In politics, there's left and right; in fairy tales, it's good or evil.
Her lips are locked tight. Your best friend knows all your secrets, and she's keeping them; you told her things you had to tell somebody, and she's telling nobody.
Sometimes, it just makes you feel gruff. Seriously, the internet should be the G.O.A.T. invention.
What defines beauty? Does it differ from "pretty" or is it just another degree based on the look of ones' skin or depth of the eyes?
The girl who sits right behind you at school is really nice. She shares her things if you ask nicely, and she likes to make you laugh.
Share, and share-alike. Which may, in retrospect, be the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard.
You were determined not to get bit. But in a totally different meaning of the word, you were equally determined that your horse would accept one.
There is no picket fence in front of your house. There's no singing milkman to bring your breakfast and the next-door neighbor doesn't coffee-klatsch with you every morning after your two-point-five kids go to school.
There's time for one last round. One for the road, as they say. A tip for the barkeep, a final toast before you go, one more clink before you drink, and, as in the new book "Last Call" by Elon Green, be careful on your way out the door.
Tomorrow's outfit is on a chair over there. That's where it's been since you last washed it.
Assume this position. Feet up, head back, fingers laced over your belly. Eyes shut. Teeth unclenched. And there you are: ready for a nap — if you dare, if you have your work finished, if you can ignore the nagging feeling that there are things left undone, if you can stop feeling judged.
The place is filled with balloons. They're floating near the ceiling, strings just out of reach for now, some on the floor.
And just like that – boom! – the awkwardness began.
Pick, pick, pick. If you're patient, that's how you break big things into very little ones.
Pick up eggs. Milk. Macaroni. Bread. If you don't jot down a list of things you need to find, you'll forget something.
Cover your nose and mouth.
Little kids have it so easy. Somebody feeds them when they're hungry, does their laundry, buys them toys, and plays with them.
The top of the mountain is well above your head.
Don't move. Stay entirely still, don't even breathe.
Two wheels hooked. That was your vehicle: two wheels on the ground, the other two in the air, safely attached to a bar hooked on both ends to a big truck.
The applause is all for you this time. It's deafening, really – perhaps because there's a standing ovation beneath it.
The grass is greener on the other side of the fence.
The situation you're facing isn't one you wanted. You had no wish for it; in fact, it's 100% the opposite.
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