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Choosing his religion
The scene: A messy bedroom. The players: Me and Mr. T The plot: Cleaning out our closets. Me: “I’m going to use that for my shoes.” Mr. T: “What? My bookcase? What am I going to do with my books?” “You...
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The Bullshit Grinder
This is the Bullshit Grinder. It belonged to my Granddad. Now it is mine. It is the only thing I wanted from him after he died. He used to sit in his chair in the living room, talking politics or...
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Meeting the parents
“F or the LORD seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the LORD looketh on the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7) Mr. T’s dad is in town. He’s staying with us. I picked him up from...
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War & Peace
“To pull oneself up by one’s bootstraps, one must first have boots.” You heard this tossed around a lot in in the past few years, in the never-ending debate over public assistance, economic mobility...
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When I Stumbled Upon the Glass
For Roberta Why didn’t you look, she said when I stumbled upon the glass I had not seen. When I stumbled again upon the glass she said, what did you do that for. But I didn’t think that I would fall....
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Hurts so good
I dropped a bomb in the newsroom And when it went off, people were angry. But not at me. They were angry on my behalf. Angry at my attacker. Angry at my assault. Angry at him. Which is as it should be....
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Fuck the Simpsons
Well, not all the Simpsons* Just you, Anita. Photo By Nicole Hanusek – via Flickr creative commons Fuck you. You were there that night. The night of the Very Bad Thing. It was his birthday. He had a...
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Scraps
Image by Or Reshef, courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons All I got were scraps The leftovers After work After chores After the lawn was raked and the laundry clean After my sister After my brother I...
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11 Harsh Realities of Healing From Sexual Assault and PTSD
Huzzah! My first list-icle. I guess all that Buzzfeeding is getting to me. So I’m taking some time out of my Year of Anger to educate you, the public, on the painful (and occasionally hopeful) truths...
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Dear Duggars: What I Wish I Could Tell Victims of Abuse in Religious Families
Hi. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. But I feel like I know your story and you know mine, better than you think. Not exactly, of course, because who can ever truly know our stories other than...
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