Tag archives: identity
Anyone who’s known me for more than a
week probably knows I am a bookworm. Give me an hour of precious free time, and
I’ll quickly bury my head in the world of words.
It took years before my husband
finally realized that when I’m deep in a good story, he no longer exists to me.
And should he persist in trying to get my attention, he deserves the fury he
may unleash for pulling me so cruelly back to reality.
One of my best childhood memories was
the regular trips to the public library with my ...
This month one of my book clubs read
“Where’d You Go, Bernadette?,” a fictional story of a highly creative,
up-and-coming architect who becomes a recluse after suffering a professionally
tragedy. After years of keeping to herself—and becoming more than a bit nutty
in the process—she actually physically disappears to Antarctica of all places,
and her husband and daughter must find her.
I wanted to love the book since it had
rave reviews, but even though it was funny at times, I couldn’t suspend my
disbelief enough. Antarctica? Really?
The real problem, though, was that I
“To thine own self be true.”
Shakespeare said it best. Of course, he
was a dude, and having a penis seems to make it easier to live by this
sentiment. (Yep, starting of this post with the “P” word!)
I’ve never met a woman of any age who
hasn’t struggled with being true to herself. From the time we are born, we seem
to spend our lives living up to others’ expectations and needs. The good news,
I’m finding, is that with age, we begin to listen to our needs. Or maybe it’s
that our needs ...
Tomorrow my daughter “graduates” from
kindergarten. Milestones like this always make me sentimental, but this year
the bittersweet emotion is amplified by 27.
You see, this was my year to revisit kindergarten.
I gave up the security of full-time work for the flexibility of freelancing so
I could spend more time with my daughter and volunteer at her school. That
meant spending time with 28 little people on a regular basis.
It was a questionable move for someone with
workaholic tendencies and a mild dislike for “OPKs” (other people’s kids). Helping in the classroom was unchartered territory. I worried ...
You know the phrase “it’s like riding a bike,”
which implies that once you learn how to ride a bike, you’ll never forget. Well
it isn’t true.
I was that kid who learned to ride a bike one
summer and had to relearn the next. I was also the kid who took forever
learning to roller skate and the kid who got a ‘D’ in jump roping in
fifth-grade gym class. To be fair, my gym teacher was a complete bitch who
scarred me for life, but that’s a post for another time.
One of my ...