Miranda Mears
Braun has written feature stories for the Reader since 2009.
Editor's picks of Braun's Reader stories:
- When my husband and I moved to San Diego from Lawrence, Kansas, upon him receiving his first “real job” out of college, we assumed what normal Midwesterners would — that we would live in an apartment facing the ocean with wall to wall windows. (April 11, 2018)
Ryan Mussey: "At 24 years old I feel like I have the body of a 50-year-old. I never really understood the term rat race, until I got in it."
- A childhood friend of mine from Chicago recently admitted that she unfollowed my Facebook feed. “In February Chicago had its coldest month on record since 1875! We froze our asses off. Looking at pictures of you frolicking on the beach while I am forced to shovel out a parking space just so I can park my car in front of my building, was infuriating,” (April 29, 2015)
Panda nonsense
Ashley McLaughlin (<a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/hardshellart">etsy.com/shop/hardshellart</a>)
- Miranda Mears is sitting on the sea wall at the end of Newport Avenue in Ocean Beach. Waves crash behind her. The dreary sky covers everything in a blanket of gray. A white hoodie covers Mears’s cropped pink hair. Underneath it she wears a colorful triangle bikini top and a blue button-down tied in a knot at her ribcage. Her skirt hits just below the knee exposing sores on her shins. (Dec. 7, 2016)
- "I was sleeping and I woke up to a noise. I didn’t know what it was. Greg comes flying into my room. He throws my door open. He has his hands over his face. His entire face is just covered in blood." (July 8, 2015)
Alan Lingol
- Driving down a Jamul backroad, I spot a personal aircraft haphazardly parked in a field of tall grass, a man in chaps riding a horse down the road, and a makeshift target-practice range. The lack of a homeowners’ association is evident in many sections of town. It’s a hodge-podge of manufactured homes, palatial mansions, and do-it-yourself home-improvement projects and add-ons. (Jan. 31, 2018)
- A leopard-print sign hanging on Andrea Smith’s front door announces, “I am a luxury few can afford.” Three years ago there was heavy truth in that statement. Smith was bringing in about $2500 a night. (June 22, 2016)