So, my most popular published article by a long shot has undergone a makeover [i.e., I've made improving edits] and is now on elephant journal: Stripping the Emotional Condom.
Of course, I want you to click that link. But, if you need me to sell it to you, it's the piece of mine that's had the most dramatic reception. In its original incarnation on Rebelle Society, I received a flock of flattering reader emails, it was added to RS's classics sidebar, and it was selected to be anthologized in their best-of collection.
End of pitch.
In other news, I just had a lovely few days in Sacramento.
Yeah, you read that correctly.
Sacramento is decidedly a shithole. However, I have one very good reason to visit; namely, my friend Jason Fassnacht, who is easily one of the most inspiring and generous people I know. Also, I'd be hard-pressed to find a more skilled or dedicated artist anywhere--and I've been around altogether too many artists.
His company defies the bounds of what we can gain through company with another human being: a natural anti-depressant, a treatment for writer's block, a catalyst for intrinsic confidence. I meant to spend one night there and wound up staying for three. This is a common phenomenon with his many visitors who'll often stay longer than planned--not upon his request, but theirs.
I could gush about him more, but since I'm working on an interview/narrative about him anyway, I figure I might as well save the goods.
Anyway.
I've got five days to get my shit together before my flight. It hasn't really sunk in yet. I haven't thought about packing.
This is what happens every time I embark on any kind of trip. I probably won't realize I'm going to Thailand until I board my plane.
So far I know I'm bringing a ukelele [courtesy of Alex's mom--she got one for each of us and told us we can sell them abroad should we go broke, though we're hoping it doesn't come to that], a GoPro, a small microphone. Was going to leave my laptop at home in case my shit got stolen or damaged...but I guess that begs the question of why I feel such a need to bring a GoPro and microphone.
Not exceedingly practical, but packing has never been my strong suit.
When I broke up with my last boyfriend I decided to adjust to the change by stomping into Yosemite's backcountry with a mason jar of whisky, a machete, a sleeping bag, a bigass garbage bag in case it rained [I rarely backpack with a tent], and nothing else. Oh, my stuffed white tiger. I brought him. I wore a wifebeater and boxer shorts, and Vibram five fingers [which aggravated my tendons after a while, so I opted to finish the loop barefoot].
It made for a description-defyingly incredible two weeks.
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