And I don’t know why it bothers me so. I’m not wealthy, or gay, or hip, or a celebrity, or a fashion designer. I don’t write with flow about bittersweet romances from my past.
I don’t think I’m cool, as defined by this particular section of The Times: young, artistic, well-connected.
Instead, I’m creative, introverted, geeky, imaginative, expressive, contained. Perhaps not quite the profile that the paper of record is looking for.