Jody Amable

So far, Deathly Hallows is, to me, about the divide between the living, the dead, and the living who have seen death. Harry and I are part of an exclusive club: Those under 30 who have experienced death. And when I say “experienced,” I don’t mean “witnessed.” I mean really, really felt it, all the way through.

I was waiting to finally not like a Harry Potter book, and folks, I found it. Half-Blood Prince was boring.

If I let everyone off the hook for extenuating circumstances like, “He’s over 50, so he probably just doesn’t know any better,” no one’s ever going to stop calling me “sweetie.”

Like most nerd realms, music writing is a predominantly male world. Especially if, like me, your greatest love is classic rock.

The neighbors turned their lights off. My dog fell sound asleep. I kept reading. And at 1:03 am, I finished. All was well.

A new feature with music picks tailor-made to ensure your weekend jam sessions are absolutely ravishing.

According to the magazine, women need special help understanding sports. Cue the glorious, hilarious Twitter outrage.

In this time of toy-giving, I'm reflecting on the impact one doll made on me and, I'm willing to bet, a small subset of other girls, too.

The further I get into this series, the harder time I am having remembering what the eff has happened so far. You see, I am an Old Lady.

I'm 30 years old and stuck in San Jose, the hometown I always wanted to leave. What happened?