Every writer should have a friend like Philippa -- she asks all the right questions.Read More
We watched them hop into their car and return to their Airbnb, and I felt a hole in my stomach. There is some element of every interaction lately -- when the phone call is over or I'm waving goodbye on a sidewalk -- that the mask comes off.Read More
Every morning at 7:30 -- the sun turning the windows gray, my Echo alarm chiming, sweat in my hair -- I say to myself: "What is going to happen today?"Read More
Last week began with a bus crash. So much has happened since then that the bus crash feels like an afterthought, even though my shoulder hurt for a few hours after. It took three extra days to write this post -- which felt a little like climbing through a thicket.Read More
"This is a textbook rebellion," he said. I felt like I had been slapped in the face.
"I thought that happened when you were a teenager, and you know, you got a piercing and a tattoo and broke curfew? I'm too old! It's impossible."
"There is such a thing as a delayed teenage rebellion. How much of your life do you feel is repressed?"
"75% perhaps?" I said. He laughed.
Well, there you go.Read More
I am full of contradictions. I change my mind so many times, and the only conclusion I make, (a trivial one) is that all my heroes are French women who misbehaved -- George Sand, Colette, and St. Therese (in her own way).Read More