Good News For People Who Love Bad News

Sweating the Small Stuff.

I was 13 the first time a boy ever propositioned me with “hand-holding.”

It was the summer before my 8th grade year and a bunch of us were watching The Village in theaters. (You know, back when M. Night could still use his name in movie trailers without an entire audience erupting into groans.)

I guess the boy didn’t really “ask” so much as say if I wanted to hold hands… it’d be cool with him.

To which I replied, “Oh. Okay.”

And then continued to sit there with my hands in my lap.

Continue reading “Sweating the Small Stuff.”


The Other ‘F’ Word

“Let me start off by saying, I consider myself a feminist, but…”

I could immediately feel my eyes start rolling in the back of my head.

“I just can’t get into female authors. I think it’s because I can’t relate to their stories,” said my colleague… a very well-respected teacher of literature.

Continue reading “The Other ‘F’ Word”

The Night I Met Lucy Dacus.

It was an uncomfortably warm August morning (almost a year ago to the day).

It was my last free Sunday before going back to school… and I woke up with a headache, last night’s gum still in my mouth, and a pocketful of stolen thumb tacks.

Continue reading “The Night I Met Lucy Dacus.”

Living in Your Rear-View Mirror

I live on a busy street.

Actually, I live on a small street that connects to a busy street.
And occasionally, I have to make scary, unprotected left turns on to said busy street in order to get to the places where I need to go. (a la Dr. Seuss)

Continue reading “Living in Your Rear-View Mirror”

Young Jesus.


We are just barely outside of downtown LA.
If I close one eye and put out my hand I could squish all of the big buildings in between my finger and thumb.

Continue reading “Young Jesus.”


It wasn’t until the automatic doors had completely closed in on my shoulders and were slowly squeezing me into oblivion that I realized I might be in trouble.

Continue reading “Seekerette”

Casual Racism of the Third Kind

One of my third period students dropped this gem on me today.

“It’s only racist if you’re offended.”

Continue reading “Casual Racism of the Third Kind”

The Plight of the Skinny Vanilla Latte

“I’m not the one who changed their entire coffee order just because they didn’t like the way someone’s voice sounded,” countered my sweet, loving boyfriend when I accused him of acting irrationally.

Continue reading “The Plight of the Skinny Vanilla Latte”

And So It Goes…

I chose the wrong table today.
(Or rather, the wrong table chose me.)

Continue reading “And So It Goes…”

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