Being a writer means that you‘ll never have a shortage of criticism, whether it is offered up to you in heaping scoops of vitriol from faceless masses on the internet, or you gather it yourself from your never ending well of neurotic self-doubt. Hooray. Add being a woman into the equation and your cup overfloweth.
Last week, I decided to try Soylent. For those unfamiliar with this food product, Soylent is a high-protein drink designed to appeal to lifehackers, dieters, and doomsday cult members who are maybe a little shy and don‘t want to come out of their bunker for communal meals. It has an incredibly long shelf-life, and provides
I‘ve heard that living well is the best revenge. This always struck me as ridiculous because everyone knows that the best revenge is actual revenge, and if it subtly hearkens back to the way that you were originally wronged by the party in question, all the better. As many of you know, I get
Santa Fe has the highest concentration of galleries in the world - many of which sit side-by-side in adobe buildings along Canyon Road. It‘s like visiting a bunch of tiny museums, the price of admission being the occasional side-eye you get from gallery owners once they‘ve sized you up and realized you can‘t afford anything.
I broke my long-held rule about not taking photos of artwork while at The Georgia O‘Keeffe Museum. I don‘t know if my views on the matter have changed or not. Perhaps they‘ve shifted only slightly. I still get angry at people using flashes to light up ancient works, I still want to scream at the
I‘ve heard that writers are never really done with the books they‘ve written. That there are sentences they‘d wished they could change, long after the book goes to print. That even after it hits the shelves and the reviews are in, it haunts them like the memory of an old love they can‘t seem to
I was doing a radio spot a few weeks ago and the interviewer noted that my blog and my Twitter feed had become increasingly political in recent months. I laughed and noted that the same was true for nearly everyone I knew. Over the course of a year, I went from tweeting things like
I thought Santa Fe was beautiful. Rand had been wanting to visit for years, had built it up in his mind so much that he had already asked me if I wanted to move there before we‘d even set foot on the ground. He‘d idealized so much that reality had trouble living up to what
Whenever people recognize me in real life (which isn‘t terribly often - the one who is almost always spotted is Rand, and from there they are able to conclude that the loyal hobbit by his side is me), they often stare blankly before asking, Why are you here? I find this charming. It‘s fun to
I need to tell you about one of the cooler things that ever happened to me. And I know some of you are like, Ugh, no, Geraldine this whole neurotic, insufferable girl with the awesome life thing is wearing thin and I KNOW IT IS, PEOPLE. It is not my fault, okay? I do