Little Epiphanies and Lagoon-Colored Eyes

To say running was a challenge this summer is an understatement. The heat and humidity, the air quality, my own mental state, all presented significant barriers to my ability to put one leg in front of the other and push through.  Continue reading “Little Epiphanies and Lagoon-Colored Eyes”

Home, Part Two: On Permission and Old Man Bullshit

I am so sick of men’s helplessness.

Palms outstretched, shoulders shrugging. “We don’t know what to do. We’re used to fixing things. And this, we can’t fix. We feel helpless. I’ve told you — I wish it were me in this position, rather than you.”

Well, you are helpless now, and so are we. The difference is, there was never any pretext about whether or not we’d fix things, because fixing is what we’ve always done. Quietly, and without fanfare. Things get done because we do them and move on, end of story.  Continue reading “Home, Part Two: On Permission and Old Man Bullshit”

Spite is my ruling planet

Michael Jordan caught a lot of flack for his Hall of Fame acceptance speech because he focused on people who he believed never believed enough in him. He aimed his gratitude at those people who’d been there for him and gave him a shot, but wasted too many words, people thought, on remembering the slights, the benchings, the roster cuts. His career, he conveyed in thousands of words, was a work of greatness, but it was also one of spite. Continue reading “Spite is my ruling planet”

10 Surefire Ways to Get Over Someone

Hookup with a rando (rumoured).

Dance like no one’s watching. Or like everyone is, whatever.

Clean, obsessively.

Run until your knees melt out of your skin.

Write everything down. Don’t stop until you are no longer playing your last meeting on loop.

Run away. Far, far away. Preferably somewhere that has nothing to do with him, like an air raid shelter, or your dad’s house.

Drink a bottle or two of wine a night. Or have a tequila cocktail or three. Different strokes…

Throw things. Smash things. Hit things. [In the safety of a room equipped with safety goggles and supervision.]

Do not, under any circumstances, listen to Linda Ronstadt. Just trust me. Don’t do it.

Imagine you’re Angela Bassett in this gif, and approach each day like you’re going to set everything on fire.



Here endeth the lesson.