Walking Down the Street Naked

“The moment that you feel that just 

possibly, you’re walking down the street 

naked – exposing too much of your heart 

and your mind and what exists on the 

inside, showing too much of yourself – 

that’s the moment you may be starting to 

get it right.” – Neil Gaiman

Role/ Reboot Essay

I have an essay up at Role/Reboot.  It's about my failed attempt to fake my way through a trip with my boyfriend and his entire family to Hawaii and pretend that I totally don't have a problem with body image/ eating.  Needless to say, it ended like this: http://www.rolereboot.org/life/details/2013-05-i-have-an-eating-disorder-and-no-one-in-my-life-know

Okay You Guys, This is Happening

I pride myself as someone who tries her best to be authentic, but the truth is that there are large parts of myself that I keep securely hidden behind closed doors and never, ever talk about.  With anyone.  Except my (wonderful, amazing, lovely) therapist.

This is about to change, because I'm about to have a very revelatory and putting-myself-out-there essay published.  And I guess all I can really say is this: This is happening.  I'm doing this.  Just like I said, I'm putting myself out there.

(I'm a little scared.  Hold me.)

And So Tonight I'll Write

I could make a list of the people I miss.  It wouldn't be comprehensive, but it would sure as hell include anyone who attended Lewis & Clark College from the years 2000 - 2002, and anyone who attended Emerson College from the years 2002 - 2004, and anyone who lived in Los Angeles from 2004 - 2005, and anyone who worked at P.F. Chang's at Bridgeport Village in 2006, and anyone who worked in Vancouver in 2011, and anyone who was in London in 2001, and anyone who was in Phoenix in 2005, and anyone who lived in Boston or spent time in Colorado or waited tables at Rodney's or went to parties on Orchid Street or lugged cases of beer with me through the streets of Cambridge or got bitched at by an agent in Beverly Hills or moonwalked with me outside a bar in North Hollywood or made a home with me on 20th Avenue or lived in those awful dorms or went with me to New Mexico and West Virginia or scuba dived with me in Mexico or held my hand after that guy tried to kill himself or grew up in that crazy, silly town with me.  Anyone I talked to in Arizona and all those boys I kissed and all those girls who shared their pizza and beer and all those nights when I felt so damn lucky to be 17 and 22 and 29.  And now I'm 31 and I still have nights like this, meeting up with someone at a bar and talking for hours about life and writing and feeling like all is right with the world and also feeling like there's so very much I miss, so many roommates and boyfriends and strangers whose presence I miss. And I don't really know what to do with this many emotions and this many feelings and words. And so tonight, I'll write.