Evidence suggests a strong link between the sharing of deeply personal information and readership. Not just things like a favorite color or food, but real important stuff, like one’s shoe size. Medium.com is littered with ordinary folks who share intimate details about themselves, accruing more followers than Jesus—Jesus is the hispanic guy who runs the awesome local food truck in my home town.
Purchasing condoms when you’re 16 can be life altering. There are lots of choices to make. A misstep can mean eighteen years of accidental responsibility, or painful shots to clear up unplanned infections. But what should be a straightforward decision can easily end up a complex evaluation of options.
It seems spring is the time of year people publish articles and blogs about all the things they wish they’d known or did, or wish you to know or do. My email is the unwilling recipient of a tidal wave of titles from twenty and thirty-somethings touting 9 Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me About My 30s, Things I Wish I Knew at 25, and 25 Things You Must Know By The Time You Turn 30. Sites like Medium and Bloglovin rain thoughtful, provocative, timeless pearls of wisdom past my spam filter, filling the folder titled, “Emails from the Ninth Circle of Hell,” where a rule designed to keep them out of my inbox reroutes them until the highlighted unread-email indicator becomes sufficiently annoying as to require action.
I recently attained enlightenment. At 7:46 PM UTC on 3 January 2017, 48 yrs, 236 days, 8 hrs, 15 mins, 31 seconds after exiting the womb and starting the search—I was progressive at a very young age—enlightenment descended over me like warm rays of sunshine. I know this because I tweeted as much seconds after the event—minus the colorful prose.
India, especially southern India, is almost always warm enough for a nice island cocktail—we don’t need to make our fruity drink and then stare out the window longing for summer because it’s always summer! So, in the spirit of Brazilian nationalism and just in time for the holidays, I present Expat Roberto’s Caipirinha con Rum, aka la bebida que hace querer quitarse la ropa—Yes, I’m aware that is Spanish. Yes, I’m aware they speak Portuguese in Brazil. No, I’m not interested in learning Portuguese.