Tag: soap box
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2011 was a big improvement over 2010. Given my thoughts on that year, almost anything would be, though. In 2011, I landed my current job. I started writing for Forbes. I was published by Salon, Jezebel and The Atlantic, among others. I drove across America with a stranger. I became an aunt again. I spent New Year’s…
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I’m not a recipe slave. Even beyond the vegan thing and the celiac thing, I don’t feel obligated to hew to Betty Crocker if I have a better idea. If a dish requires onions or garlic, I leave them out. Ditto raisins. Double up the vanilla extract. Skip the coconut. Mostly, this works or at…
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I don’t believe in the laws of attraction thing, but I do believe that the energy you put out to the world and to others influences what you get back in return and in what manner. But not in the whole you are a magnet and good fortune is a box of paperclips kinda way.…
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Although unintentional, I have a string of non-consecutive posts going in which I mention cake. I don’t know what’s up with that. I can’t even eat cake. But the baked good shoutouts shall continue unabated. Specifically, I’m thinking about MacArthur Park and the fine art of being rejected. I write about rejection a fair bit…
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I have some things I should be taking care of, but they keep getting backburnered for more urgent tasks – can’t leave the office until I put out this fire, can’t catch up on email until I file this Forbes story, can’t even think about fall until I get July out of the way. These…
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Last summer, I went to a workshop for a government funding program for business start-ups. First, I prepared. I did weeks of research. I had my business idea all planned out. I made an appointment to speak with the appropriate bureaucrat (he was both totally cute and utterly obliging – two very rare traits in…
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I’m thinking back to a piece, the first piece I wrote for GenMeh about being your own expert and how relevant it still is and how many people still don’t get that and just stand around waiting for the universe and its cool kids to pick them for the kickball team instead of saying, “F*** it,…
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“We’re different kinds of writers.” This followed shortly after,” I know you like writing and all that journalism stuff.” No, I like pad thai and Christopher Guest movies. I am a writer. And you are unable to distinguish between common homophones. Journalism is how I put myself through school. People actually pay me for my words.…
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You could handle it right now. Maybe not with all of the élan that you imagine under ideal circumstances. Maybe it wouldn’t be noble or romantic or self-sacrificing and maybe you’d lose sleep and bite your nails and drink too much and yell about the terrible timing, but you’d cope. You’d do it. You’d accommodate,…
Generation Meh 