Picture this: a cabinet perfectly arranged, everything precisely as it should be. Nice, right? But then you notice it— one plate is slightly misaligned, and it’s the only thing you can see now. Here is where I must ask you to resist exclaiming to those around you that you are so OCD!
I’m sure as teenagers, we’ve all had more than our fair share of embarrassing phases. My sister likes to remind me of mine like it’s her favorite pastime. Hey Addy, do you remember when you really, really liked— yes. Yes, I really do. Now please be quiet about it!
When I’m not tired or hungry, I am a person of reason. My mind can be changed if the right evidence is presented. “Because I said so” makes my blood boil because it goes against everything I value…
In ecology, a niche is all of the biotic and abiotic factors an organism needs to exist. But I’m not a scientist. I’m the farthest thing from it. I can barely spell the word without spell check. So for credibility reasons, I will not be exploring the makeup of our pale blue dot and the intertwining factors that keep the plants and animals on it alive. But I am a human and I do exist in a society, so my understanding of the sociological definition of niche is a little bit more comprehensive. And I happen to have found my social niche.
I don’t like blue cheese. I can’t get over the smell. I physically can’t do it. But every time blue cheese is placed on a charcuterie board or tossed into a salad I order, I force myself to eat it and pretend to like it. I am determined to someday be a person who likes blue cheese. Why? Because adults are supposed to like blue cheese. And I want to be treated with respect, like an adult.
Hear me out on this one: We are not supposed to spend our lives in the same single place. A controversial statement if I’ve ever said one, I know.
Recently, a craze over romance novels has disrupted the literary community. One of the most influential people behind this fad is a New York Times bestselling author, Colleen Hoover.
