I’ve been in various forms of treatment for years now: college counselor; old-school Boston psychiatrist that handed me drugs once a month; confused beach town therapist who had no idea what to do with me; extremely mean suburban therapist; current wonderful resident at a NYC hospital who sees me once a week and functions as both therapist and psychiatrist.While some treatment has been easy to access—namely the college counselor—most required navigating a maze of phone calls, referrals, string-pulling, insurance snafus, and money.
“Welcome to the paradise of the modern artist.” – An Interview With Tom Toro, ‘New Yorker’ Cartoonist
I met Tom in English class during my sophomore year of high school, and we became acquaintances and occasional friends. Mostly, I had a crush on him. After high school, I moved out of the Bay Area and to the East Coast, where I received sporadic updates on high school friends from my good friend Julia. She mentioned something about Tom drawing for the New Yorker, a piece of information I filed away until I saw this cartoon posted on Facebook.
You guys. It’s raining! WETPOCALYPSE 2014 is currently demolishing the Los Angeles area with rage-geysers of precipitation. Water is falling from the sky. We’d go to Smart & Final to stock up on supplies, but the roads are closed and we have no power so can’t even get our parking-lot gate to open. Should we resort to cannibalism? Should we eat one of the many typhus-ridden cats parading our apartment complex?
Where and how did you live, Josh?
Whatever the reasons (and there were oh so many reasons), I went ahead and finished a goddamn doctoral degree in English Literature, which serves mostly now to punctuate mundane office chatter with the occasional “Doctor Au” joke. Get it?
Linda is a 33-year-old ICU nurse who works at one of the nation’s top 10 children’s hospitals in Denver.
I’ve been a full-time freelance writer for just over a year. I track everything. I post my freelance income to my Tumblr every week, and am always taking notes on who’s hiring and who’s paying.
My friend Emily and I first met while preparing to study abroad in Barcelona in 2003. Some of the first things I learned about her were that she loved ice hockey and sailing. After we graduated, Emily took a summer job as the seasonal program director of a yacht club. She took it again the following year, and the year after that.
The cost of a relationship, starting with two coffees.
So as previously mentioned I am growing increasingly pregnant with each passing day, and today I had an appointment with my OB-GYN. On the agenda for this morning was first to chug 10 oz. of a drink called Glucola™, which is basically like drinking flat orange drink except twice as sugary (Um, I was kind of into it) that does weird things to your blood sugar and screens you for gestational diabetes. Second on the agenda, aside from peeing in a cup, getting my blood pressure taken, and hearing baby’s heartbeat, was for me to corner my OB and try to get her to give me an honest answer about her practice’s plans to drop my newly begotten insurance plan.
On Fridays this summer in Chicago I went to the Department of Human Services offices on 63rd Street to invite people to visit the farmers’ market. Unless I had more outreach to do in Woodlawn or South Shore, I didn’t ride my bike. The first time I rode over, I was encouraged by the security guard to bring it in and since I hated the time it took to lock up my bike and ostentatious display of bike-riding, I just started walking over from my office a couple blocks away. Timing was everything for this outreach: If you went at 9 when the office opened nobody was there, and any later than 11 and the same was true. The benefit of going at 10 meant it wasn’t too hot yet and I’d still manage to grab a donut and iced coffee at Robust Coffee Lounge on my way back.
A Conversation with Katharine Heller About Rollerskating and Filing Cats’ Nails, (aka Being a Professional Actor)
Whenever I order a beer, I wonder what that bartender would rather be doing, if her eyeshadow is actually leftover from a dress rehearsal for some off-off-Broadway play that might get a dozen audience members on a good night. I spoke with Katharine Heller, a former bartender and current actor/comedian/writer/podcast host about this transition from behind the bar to in front of the crowd. As she does in her podcast Tell the Bartender, she entertained me with stories about her comedy punk band Bitch Chicks on the Rag and filing the nails of cats with stagefright, all in the name of acting. We talked about how she pays her bills, the importance of stage combat, and how bartending made her a better actor.