And so, on Friday, The Teenager graduated high school. It is the proverbial milestone. High school. Pinnacle of scars and battles and tears and for some, peaks. Also some joy. The Teenager lived in her optimism, her constant enthusiastic hope that she would be acknowledged by the dark forces of authority; she honed her mettle, finding beauty outside of that windowless prison. During the graduation procession, I felt ecstatic for her. She was done. Leaving high school was like that for me. Constantly working so hard. Not feeling appreciated by teachers. Not having that sweetheart. Not connecting with anyone. Having a large group of friends, but always, always feeling alone. I had friends outside of school, the ones I went to see ELO at the Garden with, the ones I drove to 8th street in Greenwich Village to do whippets with, the ones I went dancing at Xenon with. These were the lifesavers of my high school existence, the friends that made my day-life manageable. I pined for the boys at my high school, and I dated the boys that I met outside of high school: the boy who played paddleball, the boy who played basketball, the boy from summer camp. I found a way to survive inside high school, and I’m happy that The Teenager did as well.
Betty Gilpin: “Have you ever seen a woman realize that she has toothpaste on her shirt, nervously laugh for your benefit, then slowly look like she’s going to murder six people? Believe her and step away.”
If you’re a fan of The Good Place and Janet, you ought to read this.
Progress for women in Saudi Arabia.
This past weekend’s pride parade.
What family detention is like from a mom and her six year old.
A mother’s take on her son’s suicide.
The inhumanity of the lives of incarcerated women.
What is period brain?
And now have a laugh with Nikki Glaser.