Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of September 29, 2024
My 2-year-old is in this phase where he points to every woman he sees on the street or on TV or in books and says, Mommy!” He does the same thing with men, exclaiming, “Daddy!” Yesterday, at the grocery store, he picked up a Star magazine with Diddy on the cover, pointed to Diddy and shouted, “Daddy!” My son doesn’t see color, wealth, or crimes against humanity. He sees only gender. To prove this theory, I will show him a photo of Rachel Maddow to see if he says, “Mommy” or “Daddy.”
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of December 17, 2023
Sometimes life can feel like the final week before your next haircut. It’s awkward and difficult to manage, but know that better (hair) days are ahead.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of August 20, 2023
I should've been a plumber. At least then being covered in shit feels productive.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of July 3, 2022
The thing is… mass gun violence just pissed off a lot of bored, rich Jewish moms… maybe this is what we’ve needed to get change made.
The Regret Soup of Temper Lost and Reason Found
You'll discover that losing your temper is just that—a loss.
Do You Have Any Lotion?
I woke up angry. I always wake up angry. I eat my breakfast toast angry. I get dressed angry and put on my makeup angry. I adjust my hair angry. I reapply one of my damn press-on nails that always falls off in my sleep. Somewhere in the hill of sheets is a mountain of lost press-on nails. I don’t drink coffee or tea or juice. I don’t need a morning pick-me-up because I’m wound up from the start. Anger is my morning fuel and I love how it tastes. It makes me happy.
Group…oh come on!
Sean and Ellen met on Bumble. Their first date was a standard drink at a bar in Roscoe Village. The date lasted three hours and the conversation flowed well.
Their second date was for dinner. The night went well but then, the bill came.
![I Believe.. [Maybe They Should've Called It "Turdsie"]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1538650563472-I5IJIQNUCVQZ5EYME4AC/ibelieve....jpg)
I Believe.. [Maybe They Should've Called It "Turdsie"]
…that, if you’re going to adapt Tootsie for the stage as a musical, perhaps a focus on creating memorable songs, a believable narrative and avoiding a ball peen hammer approach to modernizing it for the #MeToo zeitgeist might be a better way to go.
On Writers and Saints
I’m not a perfect person. I make no claims of sainthood. Here, if you like, is a litany of some of my faults: I’m an arrogant, know-it-all bitch. I’m stubborn, often to a fault. I hold people to extremely high standards. I’m inclined to fits of pettiness, and I tend to hold grudges basically forever. Despite having spent years preaching to my students constantly about how there’s no shame in needing help, I’m lousy at asking for it for myself. I don’t have much interest in privacy. I will brook almost no opposition to my right to do as I fucking well please.
Star Wars Probably Taught You Some Dumb, Wrong Shit
Seriously, look at Anakin and tell me the whole fucking galaxy wouldn’t be a lot different if anyone had ever bothered to teach him some basic coping skills. How do you healthily process grief? Not by murdering a shitload of Sand People.
On Forgiveness (Or Lack Thereof)
My boyfriend cheated on me with one of my closest friends. A year later, I’m still in a relationship with him, and I'm still trying to find my way to forgiveness.
Anger and Empathy
I remember when I was very little, maybe three or four, my mother said to me, “What am I going to do with you?” I told her she could put me down the garbage chute. I imagined that was where the Sesame Street monsters lived. I thought I could live with them and that’s where I would belong. I also wanted to solve the problem for her.
Excerpt from an Anger Journal
Even if your angry interpretation of the situation is morally and factually correct, maybe you need to add more details and information to the angry story you are telling.
Another School Shooting Homicide/Suicide
Such sadness.
Such outrage.
People pray.
(Don't you know
there is no god
and even if there was
he wouldn't save you?)
If You Have No Home for Hate, You Have No Home for Love Either
Try to expel hate, and it will wander, scavenging for scraps, surviving by any means necessary, wounds festering, world-weariness feeding a determination that has become destiny, identity, a crutch to lean upon while staggering on, surrounded by chaos.
Anxiety is the thing that’s ripped our country apart. It has divided us, caused us to fear and hate those who think and live differently than us, and even caused us to hate those who only slightly disagree with us. It has led to panic and overreaction. And I worry that American Anxiety is only going to exacerbate the social and political divide in this country to the point that there is no coming back.