What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding: A Memoir
Before Russia, I thought I was fully cooked. I thought I was who I was going to be forever. But it turned out there was a little part of me that was still pink. That part was a little quieter, and less judgmental, and a lot wilder than the rest of me. Not quite Kristin … more like Kristin-Adjacent. I’d spend the next ten years exploring this other
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life is an endless series of choosing between two things you want almost equally. And you have to evaluate and determine which awesome thing you want infinitesimally more, and then give up that other awesome thing you want almost exactly as much. You have to trade awesome for awesome. Everyone I knew, no matter what they chose, was at least a littl
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You can’t control everything. Just enjoy what the world is giving you.
Kristin Newman • What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding: A Memoir
They hadn’t had my experience of Argentina. It hadn’t saved them during their times of crisis the way it had saved me. But they hadn’t expected it to; only I had. I realized they didn’t look at travel the way I looked at it, like medicine, like my chance to right all of the wrongs that might exist in my life. They just had a few interesting days in
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Shockingly (to maybe only me), being in a relationship has done the opposite of limiting me. It’s emboldened me to try something much scarier than I would have tried if I were alone.
Kristin Newman • What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding: A Memoir
The man she finally fell in love with was a dashing European-born, American-educated businessman who lived in Mexico City … and who broke her heart. His name was Laszlo, but Sasha gave him a cute nickname: “Promiser of Everything and Deliverer of Nothing.”
Kristin Newman • What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding: A Memoir
I wanted love, but I also wanted freedom and adventure, and those two desires fought like angry obese sumo wrestlers in the dojo of my soul.
Kristin Newman • What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding: A Memoir
A few years earlier, in a panic about the many bikini-clad undergrads with whom a UC Santa Barbara grad student spends his time, I had broken down and read Vito’s journal. (I know.) In it he said that, in two years, after he got his master’s degree, he was going to propose to me. Great news, right? No stories of deflowering teenaged surfer girls! S
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How even if your life seemed quiet and typical, you never knew if around the next bend you were about to become something spectacular.