There’s this sense we begin to take on as we get older that the generation behind us, the one following our trail and the subsequent ones following directly behind them, are for some reason inadequate. Years and years ago we believe, centuries and so on, the greatest people, the pinnacle point of humanity, lived out their days and birthed a generation that would slowly take the charge in our descent toward becoming an amorphous blob of idiocy. But we aren’t the only ones who believe that. (more…)
There’ve been an odd set of moments over the past couple of months: allegations are raised over not only an individual but a powerful individual of an instance wherein they sexually assaulted the raiser of the allegation, usually, or someone else, maybe, the person is removed from their position—they step down, their position changes in some way—and it comes to light that what was said was not only an allegation, but an accurate glimpse at the truth.
It’s been a whirlwind of happenings, allegations and confirmations: Matt Lauer a couple of days ago, Louis C.K. a few weeks ago, Harvey Weinstein, Kevin Spacey, Al Franken, Charlie Rose—the list is staggering, and frighteningly, this list shows no sign that it’ll ever not keep getting larger. (more…)
I think the first time I ever felt the overwhelming sense that I didn’t belong, that I was nowhere near good enough to do what I’m doing (or trying to do anyway) was in college. (more…)
It’s sort of funny:
When I was in college, I had this group of friends that was, for the most part, comprised entirely of English majors. And every one of them, as you might imagine, wanted to write a novel; it was just in their nature. Our nature. Before we graduated, the majority of us had begun what we all believed to be our first “great work,” the novel that would bring us into authorship, free us from the shackles of the nine-to-five and usher us into the pantheon of some of writing’s greats.
None of those works panned out (to my knowledge). Writing’s hard, telling stories is hard, much less telling stories others would like to read, and much much less telling ones they would want to pay money for. Speaking for myself, I wrote what I thought would be my ticket, the book(s) I’d be working on for years to come.
But it wasn’t. (more…)
It’s been a little while since I’ve updated this blog. To be honest, I think this has been the longest stretch between posts I’ve gone since I began the blog a couple of years ago, but I wanted to take a moment to explain a little bit of what has been going on with me, what I’ve been up to, and what I hope to do in the near future. (more…)
My wife was watching an episode of Friends the other day. It begins with the group gathered around Rachel’s door with party hats and balloons, banners and kazoos—they’re waiting to celebrate her birthday. But it isn’t just any birthday, it’s her 30th birthday, and as excited as they seem to be to celebrate the milestone, she isn’t having any of it. The entire episode follows this idea we hold widely that 30 is when we all begin our downturn, that that age specifically marks a point by which our lives are worth mourning, our dreams worth abandoning because everything not yet achieved—marriage, a family, travel, the dream career—is effectively beyond our reach. (more…)
I think it was around the time I completed the first semester of my last year in college that I really began to struggle with what it was I was supposed to do next. My degree in English was and would be wonderful, but the opportunities readily available to me weren’t quite what I had envisioned when I first began. I knew that long before I graduated, but in the months following, when jobs eluded me and the best I could manage was working in a coffee shop, I wrestled with what moment would be “mine”: my first moment of brilliance, my first moment of success, the first moment I might feel as though what I’d worked toward for all of the years prior would come to head and produce before me some sort of…something. (more…)