If I want to think of a time when my inner thoughts weren’t self-critical, I have to think back very far. Practically to a point where life was largely non-verbal, and I don’t remember too much aside from images. The warmth of sunlight on my face. The view of my own tiny stockinged feet shoved into full-body pajamas. » Read more
There were no formerly heroic times, and there was no formerly pure generation. There is no one here but us chickens, and so it has always been: A people busy and powerful, knowledgeable, ambivalent, important, fearful, and self-aware; a people who scheme, promote, deceive, and conquer; who pray for their loved ones, and long to flee misery and skip death. » Read more
I’m sitting in a pew, attending mass at the church I attended growing up.
It’s been 7 years since I went to a service here, on another visit to my hometown, but surprisingly little has changed since then.
Actually, surprisingly little has changed from 30 years ago, when I was a small child doing my best to remain quiet and tolerate the unending boredom, » Read more
It doesn’t matter whether she talks to him for ten seconds or two hours. My mother always says, “I love you,” before she says goodbye to my father any time they talk on the phone.
And she did it every morning before he left to drive to work. She said, “I love you,” » Read more
It was something I was told a thousand times growing up. If you’re going to go out, leave a note.
By my mother when I was staying at my parents’ house. But not just her and not just there. Everywhere. At all the other places I stayed. Friends’ houses. With other relatives. » Read more
I know you’re confused by how I live. I’ve come to expect it. It’s understandable to me that you don’t get it. That you don’t get how I live my life.
You say my life is too quiet. That I should have a kid or get a few dogs. » Read more
When I was a child, I was told over and over again by my mother that honesty was very important. That truth was moral and lies were immoral.
That was what she said.
And then she showed me something different: That telling the truth is important unless that truth is embarrassing or inconvenient to her. » Read more
Being a Young Girl Was All About Mixed Messages
When I was a young girl, it often seemed like I was toeing a very thin invisible line, walking through the most narrow passage opening, sandwiched between two hard rock walls.
On one wall was the pressure to succeed, and on the other side, » Read more
“You’ll be fine,” my dad said, as we waited in line for the roller coaster. “It’s not so bad.”
But the old man was tricking me.
My first clue was the screams that we heard as we waited in the enclosure. “They’re just being dramatic,” Dad had reassured me. “Some people ride these things just to scream.” » Read more
Was there anything more disappointing as a kid than when you got to your hotel and the pool was closed?
It looked so lovely in the brochure.
I grew up being fed a lot of stories about Love and Romance and Happy Endings. Mostly through TV and movies, » Read more