My Lifelong Journey to Find Pee-wee Herman
My first attempt to meet him turned out to be a cover story for my parents' messy split. Thirty years later, I decided to find Pee-wee on my own terms.
My first attempt to meet him turned out to be a cover story for my parents' messy split. Thirty years later, I decided to find Pee-wee on my own terms.
I was the only woman on a volunteer crew sent into the jungle to defend a dwindling bird population from pet-trade poachers. And I saved my sense of self in the process.
I was nursing a devastating breakup when I suddenly found myself in Switzerland, trying to talk my way into Freddie Mercury’s birthday party. It was the best decision I ever made.
My mission as a hospital clown was bringing laughter to life’s darkest moments. One little kid in chemo taught me what the job was really all about.
How rediscovering the boy band I obsessed over when I was 12—and connecting with other superfans from all over the world—helped me navigate life as an adult.
I was only 8 when I began working as an undercover security guard at estate sales. Among the dusty trinkets and used shampoo bottles, I learned a lot about human nature.
As a struggling grad student, I happened upon a lucrative side hustle with an elite team of card-counters—and found the community I'd been looking for.
My family wanted me to change so badly, I suspended my disbelief and tried to imagine I could.
As a kid with a sensory processing disorder, a lot of things that were meant to be fun were actually terrifying. As an adult, I'm making up for the experiences I missed out on.
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