I will readily admit, it took me a long time to grow up. I graduated from Michigan State University in 1980 at the age of 23 with a freshly printed bachelor’s degree in psychology and no idea what I really wanted to do.
I first met Five Omar Mualimm-ak at a forum on solitary confinement in New York City. He wore track shoes with his tailored suit.
There was a time – I was still young, in my mid-20s – when I thought I was going to be a perennial traveller, a woman without a country or permanent address, a vagabond.
My sister is a witch. Or, more precisely, a Wiccan astrologer and tarot reader. Growing up as a kid who worshipped Carl Sagan and Stephen Hawking, I found it hard to square her worldview with my own.
November 2004, against a shattered wall in south Fallujah in Iraq, with video rolling, I conduct a battlefield interview with US Marine Corporal William Wold.
The condors wouldn’t leave Les Reid alone. In the late 1990s, a pack of them regularly showed up at his house in Pine Mountain Club, California, a small community northwest of Los Angeles.
When Russia annexed Crimea in March, American policymakers were taken by surprise. They shouldn’t have been, argued the political theorist John J Mearsheimer in a New York Times op-ed.
I used to have a twangy guitar riff as the ringtone for Hank, a holdover from the days when we were lovers and he delighted me with music and a soft, southern-inflected singing voice.
Sound dominated my senses as we left the village of San Pedro de Atacama and walked into the desert night.
For the French philosopher Paul Virilio, technological development is inextricable from the idea of the accident.
On a bone-chilling morning in February last year, Nick Fernandez bundled up and took the subway from his Manhattan apartment to the Bluestone Center for Clinical Research, which is located in an art deco-style building on the Upper East Side.
There has, over the past couple of decades, been a remarkable boom in economic research into happiness.
I spoke with my father only once that I remember. I was 18, and it was the fall of 1990. I knew his name, I knew that he’d once lived in Houston, and beyond that, I knew almost nothing.
In every culture on Earth, people decorate their possessions and themselves, and enjoy visual art. They stare in awe at vast landscapes and the starry sky, and they sing and dance, and make instrumental music.
It’s a late summer day in 1998 during pre-season training for the women’s soccer team at Seattle University.
With less than a week to finish my screenplay for the last round of a big screenwriting competition, I stepped on a train with two members of a growing activism movement called Effective Altruism.
When a psychiatrist meets people at a party and reveals what he or she does for a living, two responses are typical.
When I was 14, I spent a huge amount of time on the internet, but not the internet we know today. It was 1994, so while the world wide web existed, it wasn’t generally accessible.
Leopold ‘Butters’ Stotch is crying. Some Goths happen along: Goths: You can join up with us if you want...
Even in my most religious moments, I have never been able to take the idea of hell seriously.