This is the fifth place to find me on the internet. Please don't tell me I need a sixth.
Today, in France, we stole this dog.
It was an accident—we didn’t mean to steal her. But we were out walking in the...
I just killed a wasp for my roommate (soap + water + spray bottle) and due to her awe and gratitude, now I know how the Rock must feel all the time.
Some advice: if you fuck on the first-date, he probably won’t come back for a second. If the sex was hot and he does come back enjoy...
I was writing last night (and am still thinking) about public expressions of grief and general reactions to tragedies, and how I respect your right to have those public expressions even as I choose to ignore them because all they do is make me feel worse. I watched all my feeds ignite on Friday and I felt terrorized even though I feel certain that was not the intention.
But I wanted silence. And just to feel for those who had truly been hurt in a personal way. So I worked on my writing quietly and let the rest of the world be devastated as they wanted.
I have to not be on the internet now when bad things happen. This I know. I have to step away not only from the news cycle but the grief cycle. I saw a friend on Saturday who said she had spent Friday refreshing her computer, looking for news, even though she knew better than to engage in that kind of behavior. A day later, she was not well. That is what she said. “I am not doing well.”
I guess I sort of felt “better” than her because I saw what happened and then I stopped paying attention until much later in the day. I knew there was no new information I was going to get out of it. It was terrible, guns are terrible, people are crazy.
I love you all. I want to embrace you. I respect your anger. I am angry too. We are all sad. I will help when I can. But I have to get off the ride.