Schools of Thought
It’s been difficult finding my way lately. More knowledge has made it more difficult, rather than less — as it delineates the myriad possibilities that
It’s been difficult finding my way lately. More knowledge has made it more difficult, rather than less — as it delineates the myriad possibilities that
A few weeks have passed since my last update, but the time feels infinitely longer. Strangely, time seems to drag when I’m busy – but
In the year leading up to this past fall, I was frustrated and beaten down by my job, by the way the transcription industry was
“Find a (Good) Study Partner. And not just anyone, either. Find someone that cares about their performance even more than you do. The old adage,
It’s widely acknowledged that most second marriages end in divorce – and while statistics predict that the majority of first marriages fail, the failure rate
The semester ends next week, but I finished my last paper today, and all that remains are 3 tests, for which I am very well
Woo! As I posted earlier, I finished the first draft of my polyamory memoir last month. I’ve been waiting to work on the second draft
So a major question I’m encountering trying to prepare for my ever more imminent entry into grad school is what form my research should take
“Keep your eye on the intuitions, and don’t take people’s moral arguments at face value. They’re mostly post hoc constructions made up on the fly,
I mentioned in my last blog post, “Patient, Forget Thyself,” that the last book I finished, Martin Seligman’s Authentic Happiness, had multiple take-aways. The one
Kids today. Still getting used to them. Yesterday I was reading a book waiting for class to start when the girl that sits in front
I had a dream last night that my ex-boyfriend Rob* randomly showed up for one of our parties. The other guests were instantly uncomfortable. Rob
No pain, no gain, right? Right. Right enough anyway, though I suppose that would mean masochists are basically greedy. On second thought, that works. We’re
The bane of my existence has not been that men only want to fuck me, use me as an object of their pleasure. It is
I need to write about this because one day I’ll have worked everything out and be so far beyond my current troubles that I’ll forget
Being confronted with your past self is quite an eerie experience. Many of my close friends know that my email inbox is a nightmare, completely
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin from T.
Well, this is exciting! This morning I finished the first draft of the book I’ve been writing, the memoir about my (now-defunct) open marriage. I
I was reading an interesting text today by E. Tory Higgins, Beyond Pleasure and Pain: How Motivation Works, when I stumbled across one of the most cogent cases
“You can buy some new running gear if you want,” Skyspook said. He’d been looking online at some leggings for winter biking. As he’s too
When you leave, my sternum aches. Aches from you. Aches for you. Because you rubbed your knuckles there. Or punched me. Or grabbed me. And
Passed a contemplative tuxedo cat on my way home, sitting perfectly still, regarding me with his full attention, unperturbed by my presence as if he
I recently finished an excellent volume of essays entitled Extremism and the Psychology of Uncertainty edited by Michael A. Hogg and Danielle L. Blaylock. Each
I live in Ohio, so apparently my vote is worth its weight in gold. It’s an incredibly different experience being a voter here as
The neat thing about being a memoirist is that life is constantly giving me new material. Every day that I live I gather more experiences,
Last night I had the strangest dream. For some reason, I’d traveled back to Maine to stay with, of all people, my ex-husband. There were
I’d rather not have children. Ever. I just got back from my annual well woman’s appointment, and I’m noticing as the years go by the
(2:24:34 PM) skyspook: You just need pushes in the right direction I think. You’re like me in more ways than one… you’re blind to your
I was up until 4:00 this morning masturbating to Penthouse Letters, eating far too much peanut butter, and sorting out the contents of my head.
The first draft of the memoir is coming along swimmingly. Just crunched the numbers, and I’m averaging 858 words a day. Not too shabby. My
‘Help – My Cat Peed on my Corset’ was started in Domestic Servitude When you sign on to be a pervert, they never tell you
When direction is relative, it’s easy to get lost. And direction is relative. It’s easy to get lost. Few people find being lost fun. It
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