the rose of kiev

Dave and I graduated from college 8 days ago. In this picture, my scarlet journalism tassel is resting against my cheek; Dave's bright-orange engineering tassel is half-hidden under his left wrist, still attached to his quickly-doffed square cap. Graduation brings the question of "What next?" During the preceding weeks and the following days, the question I've been asked most is, "What are you going to do now?" I tell the Asker that I have a good part-time job in a law office which pays the bills and provides health insurance, so I'll be there for the forseeable future and attempt freelancing in the mornings. The Asker gives a typically bland response, such as, "Well, that sounds good!" and the topic is laid to rest. Meanwhile, I'm fumbling in my purse for an antacid because this scripted conversation always gives me heartburn. Three weeks ago, I got coffee on a Saturday morning with my dancer friend, Katie. On the whim of caffeination, we...

The past 4 weeks of my life have been non-stop chaos since I started working for Ohio State's student newspaper, The Lantern . Not just because I work for The Lantern (a privilege I pay Ohio State for), but because I also work 17 hours a week, have two other classes plus homework, 3 church meetings a week, a home to care for (which is looking distinctly neglected), a husband to love, and this apparently insignificant thing called a social life. I have been crying, ranting, angry, and clawing to keep my head above water, but I think I'm finally catching the quick stride. In all the madness, I've learned I LOVE the process of writing articles, every single thing about it. I love researching and drafting the questions to ask, having an excuse to talk to such interesting people, the delight of scribbling down very real and beautiful quotes, and the process of assembling it all into an article. It is the most wonderful combination of humanity and the art of writing. Here are 8 t...

A few months ago, my boss took everyone in the office out for drinks to celebrate a new big client that one of the lawyers had just signed on.  We cheerfully paraded out of the office at 4:30, ready to drink to the occasion.  The evening sun sparkled through the tall bar windows on my glass of rum and coke as we swathed ourselves in a haze of laughter at the corner of the bar.  A few stools down the other legal receptionist, a middle-aged Southern blonde, politely declined the appetizers because her husband was already at home cooking dinner for her.  One of the lawyers joked that her husband was trying to get her in the mood; she replied with a smile and quickness, "He doesn't have to work that hard to get me in the mood."  We all laughed. That laughter has gone. At the beginning of October, she called off work one Thursday.  She had taken her husband to the hospital the previous night with severe abdominal pain, and the doctors couldn't identify the cause.  After se...