On the Bachelor this Week

Spoiler Alert.

Andi nailed him to the wall, called him out on this and that, and let America watch Juan Pablo flounder.  I was hooked and stayed up until 1:00 am on a weeknight, glued to her every word and his every reaction. To my fellow Bachelor fans out here, I, too, was rooting her to tear him a new one while simultaneously feeling strangely empathetic for the seemingly disheveled Venezuelan soccer hunk (once she backed him into a corner, of course) who, until that moment, always seemed to hold it together.  Counting down for Women Tell All because I can only imagine what the other 20-something blonde competitors have to contribute. Enjoy!  

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On Our Social Media Haze

(A Word from the Author).

We’re living on a million tiny stages. Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Facebook, YouTube. Dinner plates are showcases for our food, beds become venues for our slumber, selfies are curtain calls for our faces. We put our activities on display, our feelings, our families, our skies. We’re not quite sure if there is a point in doing anything anymore if it can’t be documented, if no one is there to observe it. We long for favorites and likes and reposts, compulsively monitor these new forms of applause. The marquees of our lives say, special guest: ME! We play an encore, and then another. The quotidian one-man show never quite ends. -Carrie Browstein

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On(line) Reunions

Long Distance Friendships.

Yeah, yeah, we're all sick of the mundane facebook status updates about this superstar's downfall (RIP PSH [insert sad, sad face]) and that abhorrent BuzzFeed survey results (Lady Edith, really?! Ugh.). But every once in a blue electronic moon, an old friend whom you wish you spent more time with or, alternately, grew up reenacting lines from West Side Story over jump roping and pickle-fests, shows up in your message inbox (fb or otherwise) with a sincere inquiry about your latest goings-on.  In these moments, all vows to vanish from the internet atmosphere are exchanged for nostalgic what if's and remember when's as familiar faces really do connect across state and internet lines.  Enjoy!

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On Subway Connections

Every Opportunity.


Taking the F train to (and from) work, dinner with friends, and free Fridays at the [insert preferential] Manhattan museum, the subway offers an opportunity to ponder the daily lives of the disgruntled and occasionally jovial bystanders.  Avoiding eye contact, physical contact, or any human contact at all costs, minds wander to the people, places and preferences of the total strangers sharing this ride through a conscious and cerebral city.  Enjoy!

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On Being a (Very) Sore Loser

A Board Game Reputation.

My own roommate refuses to play board games with me, citing one too many times where I (nearly) inadvertently-ish wiped the decorative cardboard palate clean out of poor sportsmanship and, essentially, being a (very) sore loser.  Begging to right my wrongs, I swear up and down month after month that this time will be different and I promise I won't cry because accepting my crappy reputation in a lonely, game-less life is way worse than sucking it up when my Poker chips are whisked away or my Monopoly is mortgaged.  And while the Chess board still collects dust in the closet, I am determined to overcome my Board Game Persona and, one day, become one of those competitors whose opponents don't feel Risk in our game of Life.  Enjoy!

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On (RIP) Philip Seymour Hoffman

Character Actor Tragedies.

Every once in a tragic while, the news of a movie star's sorrowful death catches your breath as if you knew them personally even though your non-relationship existed solely through the people they portrayed via a television screen.  For me, I found out in an email from my mother. Did you see this!, she wrote, and I hadn't and, in that moment, I still wish I hadn't, because Philip Seymour Hoffman was my slice-of-life, independent (film) hero, encompassing faces and voices and personalities I had come to pity and empathize with in the most engaging and committed of manners (btw, my mother calls these "boring" films, preferring spy flicks and murder mysteries, but I seriously beg to differ).  Broken characters are where I thrive, my solace from an already-broken world, and PSH represents entree into a deeper, sadder, eternally captivating perspective on what can and does happen on and, so unfortunately, off screen. (RIP.)

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On(line) Romance

Okaaay, Cupid.

Putting faith in the powers that be, the majority of us (by now) have dabbled on the internets to find that special someone (for ourselves, our friends, or our family members), scrutinizing favorite films, must not have's, and quirky breakfast habits to determine if said candidates are good enough to grow into old age with. Okay, Cupid, do what you do-find (us) that perfect soulmate-bestfriend-fivenightstand to give (us) hope that, if not in this particular online rendezvous, love will find the people looking for it, craving it, fantasizing about matrimonial vows, Sunday brunches, and trips around town that actually feel like the whole world and back.  Enjoy!

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