I circle the block a few times before finally giving up and resigning myself to a spot along a residential street about four blocks from the coffee shop. Try Hard Coffee on East 11th Street usually closes by 3 p.m., but tonight it is open and throbbing with energy. A DJ in the corner spins vinyl records. Bartenders on the back patio shake up Negronis and crack beers. I hear somewhere there are tacos, but I never find out where. Packing this tiny cafe from end to end are baristas, ready to compete in tonight's event: Thursday Night Throwdown.
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Manifestation and the Law of Attraction are spiritual concepts derived from New Age teachings. These principles teach one how to turn their dreams and desires into reality through thought, attraction and belief.
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“The Eyes of Texas,” spirit song of the University of Texas at Austin, has recently been called out and protested for its racist roots.
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The treatment of women as commodities is not at all new. For as long as goods and services have been exchanged, women and sex, have been part of that exchange.
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I hate to say it, but I was right. “Dear Evan Hansen” is not a good movie.
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Early voting in Austin begins today. Here’s why passing Proposition A – which will give hundreds of millions more dollars to the Austin Police Department – will not keep us safe.
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Trauma bonding, a phrase tossed around, isn’t as lighthearted as you thought. Working to understand the gravity behind this term and correctly address abuse is critical, let’s dissect it together.
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I came to Austin as someone that wanted to know the ways of love. Its pathway shines a bright light of the unknown, and calls to me. I would wonder what adventures await me by walking through that door of love.
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I have always been the type to view the glass as half-empty rather than half-full.
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It’s 2012. I’m in middle school, and I ride the bus home every day.
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When I’m being delusional love looks like this: love confessions atop the Notre Dame and other romantic locations, being chased across cities and airports, being torn apart only to be brought back together years later, lots of angst and miscommunication, and lots of sweet moments to make up for it all.
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Pine trees. Country music. Friday night football. Welcome to Lufkin, a small city in the “heart of East Texas.”
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One, two, three. I remember lying in bed and counting. Four, five, six. If I could make it to ten, the pain would usually stop. Seven, eight, nine. It came in waves, feeling like a knife was ripping through my stomach and severing me to my knees. Ten.
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