“I remember thinking, maybe I’ll grow out of this. Maybe one day I’ll learn how to laugh less often, learn not to care so intensely about every little thing. Learn to dole out my smiles more judiciously and nod thoughtfully in all the appropriate conversational moments. Maybe I’ll stop being the girl who got weird looks for reading vintage homemaking guides for entertainment and collecting 1940s hankies. But surprise! I grew up and I’m still that girl, still weird.” - I very much relate to this essay by The Smallest of Joys authorDiane Shiffer in Oldster Magazine today.