Social Love, from Inspiring People
I’m not sure what this is. I think I was pondering what became my About page and I realized I wanted someone else to write it. So I…
I’m not sure what this is. I think I was pondering what became my About page and I realized I wanted someone else to write it. So I…
Working on a startup teaches you how to live deliberately. It’s about making decisions quickly and defaulting towards action. It’s uncomfortable at first. Until you operate in this…
It feels to me like a combination of fears, this perspective. Fear that this idea of love allows for the love you have today (or might have tomorrow) to fall short of forever. Fear that your standards for love should be so high that only one experience should ultimately meet them, and the resulting fear that the only way to recognize and defend the one you want to last is to make (and attempt to live by) a cosmic ultimatum.
You’re introduced to two gorgeous Irish firestarters who are cutting the world up into their own collage, in ways that make so much sense to you that you just can’t help but smile. Two young women carrying around a lot of what makes you you, but all the pieces are weighted differently, and these women seem to totally rock in all the ways you would love to rock but don’t.
I was flattered to be a part of Ophelia’s Webb’s Pas de Deux Series and my post is up today, if you’re interested in another word vomit about love…
I sent flowers to a girl a lot of you know and plenty more of you have been curious about since I wrote about her shortly after we…
This place was unusually homey for a Starbucks, as there was this fall sunlight dropping in through the musty front window, where she was perched on their cushioned bench along the wall, legs crossed, elbows on her lap. She was picking at her scone with one hand and her hair was deep and dark, backlit by orange yellow sunbeams as it fell around her shoulder. She was gazing lazily at the little boy a few feet away who was crawling on his father, a strong man clad in army camos.
The car radio was still playing Layla. The Derek and the Dominos’ Layla…the aggressive, haunting, screamy version of one of rock’s greatest songs. It was nothing short of torture, sitting there terrified, sirons in the distance, knowing the world was about to assess the total destruction of our adolescence.
We were graciously afforded the Lincoln Sabre (I’ll never forget the model) to head into ‘town’ to kill some time. What that means, in fact, is that it was still light out, maybe mid afternoon, and we were allowed to drive into Galena to “check out the shops”. That, to us at the time, meant laugh at the locals and putz around, talking about pressing highschool social matters for a few hours before returning home for dinner on the grill next to the lake. We were in highschool and we were needing to escape, and we all felt alive as we headed into town.
My family’s rooted in New York, where my parents met, my grandma lives, and I think at least a third of my first cousin’s reside. That’s a third of a pretty big number. Ours is a New England family, despite my having been raised in a suburb in Illinois. In fact, prior to my 26th birthday I would have been less disoriented blindfolded in Manhattan than in Chicago.