Thought Catalog


The company president’s signature is reproduced at the bottom of this longish ivory-colored certificate. The text (Lucida Calligraphy, 12-point in tan) alludes to “loyalty, dedication and contributions” but fails to mention any specific event or achievements. A psychedelic-looking clock is printed in the background.

I spent my adolescence hating my dad for being an insane, racist, misogynistic, conspiracy theorist. I chalked up all his beliefs to deeply repressed reclining-chair-and-Prozac type issues. Unfortunately for my years of teenage snakiness, I’m starting to realize he was right about everything.

Having a new message on Facebook, a tweet, a text message. That’s the 2011 way of being happy. Friend requests are like a dose of Prozac and a wall post is the virtual equivalent of a big fat line of coke. Be wary of the comedown though.  The Internet is a major source of people’s happiness but it also can make you totally depressed.

Without my knowledge, my mom initiates conversation with Carles using my Gmail account and demands information on his identity. He is extremely accommodating and assures her that he is not a pedophile. He tries to explain to her what Hipster Runoff is, but she doesn’t understand. I vividly remember her telling Carles to “cool it with my daughter.”