Dear Hillary, Thank you. During this election cycle, I have returned continually to your 1969 commencement speech. In particular, the… Read more Dear Hillary: Thank You
And I’m not even embarrassed about it. Okay. A little.
There’s a little voice in the back of my head and I cannot tell if it is the voice of a good witch or a bad witch. The voice tells me that there is nothing inherently wrong with me: nothing that I need to organize, fix, catalogue or reshape. The only wrong thing is this belief I’ve developed that organizing, fixing, cataloguing and reshaping are the solutions to my unrest.
Does Pinterest ever make you feel like the impossible is possible… but a little left of center?
The year of the badass motherfucker.
It is then and there I realize I don’t give two shits. I do not care, with the fire of one thousand suns. I firmly, passionately, ardently believe
This simply does not matter.
And what does?
That moment when it dawns on you that inviting your chiropractor to check out your art is tantamount to inviting Ryan Gosling and Hilary Clinton to watch you leap off the Sears Tower and fly.