![]() ![]() I parked myself in the outdoors and read Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater. I was told that if I didn’t want to go inside, I could sit on a bench at the entrance, alone, whilst everyone else enjoyed themselves.Īnd I did just that. Maybe I thought this meant we’d ditch the museums and go to an amusement park instead, or that my parents would take us to our favorite ice cream place in DC in lieu of browsing art and history. ![]() Anyway, on this particular trip, thirteen year old me decided to stand my ground, and I refused to go into the Hirshhorn museum, stating that it was going to be so boring. It wasn’t an opinion attached to any sort of recent evidence, but merely a little kid refusing to admit that they were wrong. From then on, I stuck to my anti-museum stance. When I was eight or nine, I called one museum boring and everyone in my family started to joke about it. during my middle school years.Īt this point, I was declaring not to like museums merely as a matter of principle. Take, for example, my family’s infamous trip to the Hirshhorn in Washington, D.C. My biggest stance for a long time was that I found all museums to be boring. ![]() ![]() When I decide something’s not for me, it’s pretty hard to change my mind. ![]()
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