I’m writing this from the top of a ridge near Soddy-Daisy, where I am seeking refuge for a few days in an apartment atop a family’s carport. (Say what you will about AirBnb, but it may have saved my sanity this weekend.) I’ve been in the shit lately, with the miscarriage and the pain stuff and the surgery, of course, but also with just normal life in a pandemic — the working remotely and the…
I need to say this right now: I am happy. I am grateful. I am in love and working hard and creating and thinking and striving and questioning and all the things that make me feel real and human and in progress. I don’t have doubts about the big questions in my life. Once upon a time I feared that I would never love or be loved. I am lucky that I have found someone…
I’m getting married. You hear me? Married. MARRIED! I’m not sure I ever really believed I’d do such a thing. Once upon a time I was in high school when marriage was entirely abstract and I had dreams about Husbands and Children but in reality I knew I had to go to college and do some other shit first so it was a nice thought but nothing too pressing. And then some boys told me…
The thing for ladies to do these days is put shocks of pastel in their hair. You see it everywhere, across race and class lines. Lilacs and pinks and teals and robin egg blues. A sea of bobbing cotton candy, as far as the eye can see. Not me. It reminds me too much of my high school, where girls would bleach their hair with peroxide and use Kool-Aid paste to color it a rusty…
“‘You gotta learn to love the bomb,’ ” he said. “Boy, did I have a bomb when I was 10. That was quite an explosion. And I learned to love it. So that’s why. Maybe, I don’t know. That might be why you don’t see me as someone angry and working out my demons onstage. It’s that I love the thing that I most wish had not happened.” I love the thing that I most…
You know that thing where people write their past selves a letter? Sometimes I think about doing that, and it would be sassy and start off with something like “You think things are going to get less complicated, girly? Well, think again!” Except it would have to end there because Present Me has no real wisdom to impart to Past Me, except maybe try to be nicer, because apparently I am an asshole. This blog…
Some people get drunk with power. The neurotic get drunk with worry. That first little shot of doubt sets the spiral in motion and it builds on every subsequent swig of what if. It happens fast. The worry burns in the veins; you can feel it seeping and spreading. Before you realize what’s happened, you’ve gone from fine to woozy in mere minutes. The worry-drunk mind, stumbling and paranoid, will have entire mental hotel suites…
She can be cold and she can make you sweat one hell of an existential sweat, but she will come through at the right time with the right hook to keep you turning the page.
They call it a wardrobe because every day you just have to get in there and do battle.
In my bourgeoning adulthood, one thing I have come to appreciate is the authoritative click of a good heel. It doesn’t have to be a tall one. Just a strong one.
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