Tamarah Rockwood

You are being a dick if you intentionally create drama in a friendly conversation. You argue about everything from politics, to career choices, to shoe choices, to the quality of people around you to the quality of the pizza you ordered. No one cares about your opinions regarding pepperoncinis on pizza.

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

"I just can’t see Donald Trump on the ballot as being the most disgusting thing in the world. Right? I mean, there must be things out there that are actually more disgusting than Donald Trump."

Typical advice: Go out there and find yourself...on the precipice of death overlooking a valley of broken dreams, student loans, and tears.

The impropriety of the nefarious Zero Tolerance Policy is a double edged sword. On one hand, you cut the serious threats which could jeopardize the students and teachers in school. No doubt, if a kid has a gun in their backpack — serious threat. On the other hand, you cut the benign and harmless students who are blindsided after the handcuffs are slapped on their wrists, and they are escorted out by police for building a clock for their robotics club.

"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."

"Day to day life is going to the DMV, or picking up a few things at Home Depot, or going to bed early. Although I really do like the spunk of motivational posters to put
the idea of “what if” into our heads..."

Before I discovered I had celiac, I ate whatever I desired. Since discovering this autoimmune blessing (yes, blessing), I research what food I am, not only putting into my body, but into my family’s as well. I taught myself how to cook nutritious food from scratch that actually tastes amazing (these two do not always go hand-in-hand).

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.”