Category: When You’re Stuck

“Knock, Knock, Motherfucker,” she said, batting her eyelashes.

The other day, folks from around the world met me on Twitter, like thieves in the night, and shared the answer to one simple question: What’s your #middlefingerproject? You can read through the stream here, but I wanted to share a few here, today, because this is the point of everything. You. Me. Here. Supporting one another and figuring out how the hell to create these lives worth living, these projects worth pursuing, and these businesses worth running. Do not

The World Isn’t Your Mommy

You know what’s crazy? There’s not actually a team of people assigned to your life, sitting around monitoring your blood work, and your bank accounts, and the health of your relationships, jotting down notes, circling areas of concern. There’s no supervisor. No one checking your progress. No one setting quarterly reviews. As a result, we end up operating by a dangerous principle: out of sight, out of mind. We don’t worry about the stuff we can’t see. “Health.” “Financial security.”

You’ve Only Got 12 Fucks to Give Every Day. How Do You Spend Them?

You know how they say there are only so many hours in a day? And then you know how you immediately proceed to do that really cute thing where you overschedule yourself to the eyeballs, anyway, because apparently you think you are WAY ABOVE SUCH NONSENSE and pish posh I’ll get it done. I’ll get it done, you growl to yourself, in a fit of stubborn, mulish, holier than thou mania. I’m not sure who we all think we are,

Maybe We Need to Rewrite the Narrative Around “Hustle”—Because, Hello, It’s Fucking Killing Us

The wine was poured. And then it was poured again. Sometimes, a third glass. Jackpot, the whole bottle. It wasn’t really the wine I was after; it was what the wine gave me. GLUG GLUG GLUG. Look, I’m relaxing. GLUG GLUG GLUG. Emails? What emails? GLUG GLUG GLUG. I clearly can’t do anything productive now. GLUG GLUG GLUG. Guess I’m off the hook for the night. (Phew.) GLUG GLUG GLUG. Is this what it’s like to not be working? The

Overgiving Is a Really Cute But Seriously Unhelpful Epidemic

“Can I you a drink? How about a meatball sandwich? Here, just have some cheese and crackers. What about turkey? Do you like turkey? We could always order a pizza…” This was my mother’s way of inviting everyone into our home. From friends of mine, to boyfriends of mine, to the man who came with the propane truck once a month to fill up the tank out back. And mind you, my mother was shy. Like, painfully shy. But the

Funerals Happen Every Day When You’re Expanding

I watched the movie AWOL last night, and the truth is, it was just an average movie. But I was fascinated by it. I was fascinated by it because the movie is set in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, where I grew up, and everything from the trailer to working at the ice cream stand was the spitting image of a life I once knew so intimately. It was like stepping back in time—the junk yard pick up truck; the boozy men; the

When You Feel Like a Hot Mess Full of Walking Contradictions and WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT IS YOUR LIFE?

You don’t have to choose, you know. You can be intelligent…and sensual. Extroverted…and introverted. Complex…and simple. You…and someone who’s evolving into someone else. Sometimes, in an effort to finally define who the fuck we are, we start putting ourselves into the little boxes voluntarily—the same ones that we spent our earlier years trying to escape. It gives us relief, to be in a box. To have an identity. To know something with certainty. And to be able to say, with

Pleasure Doesn’t Need an Appointment

In the mornings, I let myself linger underneath the covers, twisting the full, fluffy comforter up and around my face, letting my feet dance in the cotton. It feels so good, to slide your soles through the cool material—almost sinful. When I shower, I surrender to the warmth of the water, letting it caress my skin from my shoulders to the top of my ass, and really feeling what that feels like, to be nude—and alive. When I sip my

Burnout Doesn’t Come From Your Business

At one point or another, you’ll question your work. You’ll question what you do, and whether you like doing it, and you’ll wonder if you’re on the right path, after all. At one point or another, you’ll be convinced that you hate your work. You’ll be disappointed by clients, discouraged by logistics, and burnt out from the routine of it all. And then you’ll remember. One client will remind you. One project will invigorate you. One spark will blow your

Working Yourself to DEATH: A Twisted Badge of Honor Reserved for The People Who Are Really Hurting

I remember when I was a little girl, I had a brilliant way of dealing with problems: Take one slice of American cheese. Fold it into fours. Pile two squares onto each cracker. Get as many crackers onto the plate as you could. They say that some people “stuff down their pain” with food, but I think it’s the opposite: You want your pain to be noticed by somebody else. It’s the only way you can show just how much