It comes on suddenly. For months, I’m obnoxiously giddy about my life and what I get to do for a living. I’m on a roll. No, not just on a roll: I’m on fire! #Unstoppable. Until, one day, I wake up feeling…doomed. Life is relentless. I have to do this till I die? I hate […]KEEP READING
It’s tragic that we don’t all write every day.
Inside our living room credenza, I have a clear plastic tub stuffed with old sh*t. Every few months, I take it out and go through a weekend-long ritual. I shuffle through photographs from the 90s, laugh at the pencil-thin eyebrows, and scan some choice shots of me and my friends from when we still had baby fat on […]KEEP READING
Go ahead, hate my stuff (or, why writing is like a big glass of milk).
I’m not a picky eater. I love most food. But there’s one thing that makes me gag.If it’s on my plate I can’t eat it. If someone at the same table has it, I have to breathe through my mouth — which is good incentive for everyone else not to order it, because who wants […]KEEP READING