Tamarah Rockwood

There comes a point in every writer’s life when their brain just refuses to work.

Yet, there is life beyond just t-shirt and jeans. There is more to an ensemble than denim and scarves.

I worry about the food I give them. I worry about the clothes we have for them. I stress over the amount of time I spend with them . . . or don’t spend with them. When is it enough, and when is it overpowering?

Kathryn Schulz from The New Yorker has warned the entire West Coast of an eminent natural disaster. Apparently, the Western coastline has this crazy fault line that has stretch marks called the “Cascadia subduction zone.” And it is in these subduction zones which we are all going to die.

I couldn’t listen to another puerile sales pitch in someone’s living room, promising the moon and then selling you something that “tastes just like sugar.” (It doesn’t. Not even sort of.)

The thing is, the more I watch this show, and the more I think back to the endless years in Start Up culture that we experienced, the more I keep thinking: “This is way too similar to parenting.”

I just wonder. . . if my daughter came home one day and said she couldn’t have a job because she was too old, how would that be right?

My reality has to include social anxiety, because I have had social anxiety for as long as I can remember. School programs, football stadiums, parades, large parties . . . hell, even small parties. I would rather not. To the point that I will simply not attend. Not because I can’t handle it; I can. I just don’t enjoy the crowds, and I don’t enjoy my reaction to the crowds. I get bitchy and impatient, mostly with myself, and I actually don’t like being bitchy and impatient.

I don’t like my old friend Guilt very much. We are not BFFs. She smells funny, and I don’t appreciate her company.

"Do not underestimate the idea of studying in Slovenia. Their tuition is free, their cost of living is reasonable and they have an incredible amount of programs available for American students."