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Infinite Scroll: Always Looking

I’ve been single for nearly two years in New York City. That, coupled with the slow crawl to thirty – and my less resilient liver – means that many Friday evenings are spent watching TV on my sofa with a glass of wine. I sit in sweatpants and a t-shirt, a more sedentary, less glamorous reflection of the characters I watch. 

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There are certain truths – surprises – from my childhood that I spend considerable time reflecting on, wondering how I couldn’t have known. The first is harmless: I wonder how I could have been virtually the last kid in the 4th grade to not know that Santa Clause was my mother. 

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