Stories like this leave me overwhelmed by the “what ifs” and deeply, deeply depressed by the math of rape. There’s the legal arithmetic: 1 sexual predator in the workplace = X number of victims = $Y in damages. 

So I’ve posted before on SNS recently that I was preparing to leave my husband. Well tonight’s night 3 in my apartment. The very first time I’ve ever lived alone as an adult. It’s surreal. I spent the day either on the bed smoking a bowl or unpacking & making space for my sofa delivery & assembly tomorrow.  I can’t…

While I don’t really want anyone to face violence

Here are the low lights, so you don’t have to burn your eyes: 

Depends on exactly what he did physically and what he said and how he said it. Could be assault, battery, sexual assault, harassment, terrorist threats, interfering with a flight crew, to name a few. What would you call it?

Assault.

Assault and battery.

“Non-Consensual Footsie”.

If I can throw away money on some dud lotto tickets, I can give this man double for being a hero. That’s what he is. Boarding up abandoned homes, painting them, starting a community garden, teaching kids... I WISH he was my neighbor. God bless him.

Great interview Maria! I’m with you...I would love to take that course! And by the by...I would totes rock this shoe from 1918:

The other day I saw gravity at Barnes & Noble looking for a book on Simone Biles.

I don’t know what she did or how she did it, but how do I get a Simone Biles jersey?

I have been trying to eat meat more ethically. (Giving it up is a nonstarter.) I have started doing the following:

Well I’ve never posted on SNS before but: I have just finished my first month post-divorce. I can’t really call it that because we had a wedding but no legal marriage, and really I wish there was a non-goopy term close to ‘conscious uncoupling’ because I’m proud to say its closer to the truth.

I went on a date in 2007 which I was very suspicious of, having tepidly put off this guy’s gentle, unthreatening advances for months (due to 16 year age gap) and then finally receiving a drunk text formally asking me out that was surprisingly sweet. I hemmed for another week, then said what the hell. We went to a…

I make my friends pay me back in Interpretative Dance.

All I can say, Albert, is I hope you are Kobe’s Hannibal Buress.

Doh! A deer! A female deer.

Oh, not at all. My life is full of meaning. And love. It’s just the letter writer who will die cold and alone.

“Should I plan to break up with someone at a restaurant?”