Jenni Berrett

There has been a lot of discussion about the who of this ten dollar bill. We have until 2020, but there are already some popular suggestions: Harriet Tubman. Rosa Parks. Eleanor Roosevelt.

More than any other unsolicited mental health advice I’ve received over the course of my life is the admonishment to “fake it till you make it.”

The premise is pretty simple: We each give you one thing to watch, one thing to listen to, and one thing to read over the weekend.

Is laughter the best medicine?

Part of me wants to write this off as innocuous and carry on with my day, because homophobia is already everywhere and there are better things for me to dedicate my words to — but then I remember 10-year old me.

We have returned from our long (jk, two week) hiatus to deliver you the Internet you live and breathe for!

[CN: vomit] Having been an unfeeling, sluggish husk of a person with the nap-taking skills of an elderly sloth for the past five months or so, I have reemerged too tender for this world.

Podcasts are a beautiful thing, but there is only so much of Ira Glass’ nasal story-telling out there.

Culturally speaking, though, it’s pretty much set in stone. Even if I left the church entirely, there’s no getting out of my heritage. Cut me open; I’ll bleed funeral potatoes. I’m what you call a “legacy Mormon” — my ancestors migrated across the frontier and settled in Utah (then Mexico) after facing unspeakable persecution from countless communities in the United States. You probably know my ancestors best as the people with the wives.

In the midst of struggling with being depressed, you’re also saddled with the practical realities of staying alive. It’s no easy feat.