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I started imagining a life as a writer a few years ago. In an effort to turn that little fancy into reality, I bought a notebook to carry with me to jot down ideas. When it wasn’t readily available, I added sentence fragments to the notes in my phone.

Midway through quarantine, I found the notebook. As can be expected from all of my Great Ideas, there was a single sentence on the first page. That was it. And I don’t know what it was meant to be. A first sentence to a story? The end of a story? Maybe…

My dad died yesterday. There is something very solidly final about the death of a parent and I didn’t expect it. Because my relationship with my father was complicated, I’m even more surprised by the depth of my grief. I thought initially that it was sympathy for the rest of my family, but it’s not. It’s mine.

I’m not my father’s daughter biologically. My “real” father stepped out of my life when I was seven so I only knew one dad for 17 years. I was around four when he and Mom got married so I hardly remember anything before…

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I’ve arrived at the point where I hate this holiday and it used to be my favorite. Looking back at my Facebook memories, this was my favorite day of the year. I’d start the day with an icy frappuccino, squee over all of the puppies in the pet parade (and molest them in the park afterward), float the river, BBQ something delicious, and finish off the day with either a fireworks show or the burning of the butte, depending on how the wind felt about it that year.

Back then I was proud that we elected a black man for…

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Y’all. Let’s stop saying “in the grand scheme of things this doesn’t matter” or any other version of this.

Graduation matters. Prom matters. Weddings matter. Baby showers matter. Running marathons matter. Vacations matter. Concerts matter.

We are being denied rites of passage because of this virus. Things that people have worked months and years for are just being snatched away. It’s okay to feel bad about that and it’s okay to grieve. It’s okay to verbalize your disappointment.

Our normal isn’t normal right now and I don’t think any of us know how to deal with it. Because here’s the…

Photo by Ewelina Karezona Karbowiak on Unsplash

I’ve held onto this story because of Shame. It’s SO ingrained in us. I’ve been ashamed. I thought it was my fault. Sexual harassment can be complicated. But it can also be crystal clear.

I moved to Nashville 5.5 years ago. I work as a software tester. He was put in a position of leadership. He trained me. He was nerdy. I called him Ned, as in the Simpsons’ neighbor Ned.

Like I said, he trained me. He was the “leader” of the project I was on. He was nerdy. Churchy. Safe.

I started working in August. I had just…

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In 300 days I will be 50. Half a century. Five decades. 18,250 days. I’ve seen people posting lists of 50 things they want to do before they turn 50. Some of these people are starting in their 40’s and some in their 30’s but, as usual, I’m late to the game and am left with less than a year to accomplish fabulous and important deeds.

I chose my items with that deadline in mind. I’d love to take a solitary trip to Europe but I already have a trip planned there next fall with my best friend. Time and…

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2019 has been a dumb year. Real Dumb (grammatical error purposely chosen to emphasize the reality of the dumbness). I was unemployed from January to June. I went on countless interviews and got rejection after rejection after ghosting. It was tough on the ego, as well as my bank account.

On top of that, 90% of my burlesque act submissions were rejected, including every festival application I sent. I was tempted to just label myself Reject of the Year, but a few friends reinterpreted it for me as personal growth. …

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A friend and I jokingly decided to make this the year of #baddecisions2019. As in decisions you know are bad, but they’re just too fun to pass up and we’re adult enough to handle the consequences (and let’s face it, we’re not getting any younger), so why not?

Turns out she’s much better at it than I am. I’m not a slacker and I had a couple of minor doozies, but my biggest bad decision resulted in my biggest lesson and has fallen in line with a different theme for me this year.

If you guessed it has to do…

This Is America

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I wrote this in a blog three years ago. I don’t even remember the events that sparked these thoughts. There have been so many that they all meld together into one common history. I cringed reading this because I can see the naivete and the privilege in my words. The world has gotten darker.

The events of the last week….
The deaths of the last week….
Where to start?

I currently have too many thoughts in my head and trying to organize them all in a way that makes sense to even just me seems nearly impossible…

The Identity of Weight

Photo by Jorge Zapata on Unsplash

Last week I binged Shrill on Hulu, starring Aidy Bryant. It’s brilliant and funny and touching and relatable. What I didn’t like wasn’t that the lead character is overweight, but that so much time was spent on it. It made me look forward to the days when people (women) can just be, without having to talk about their struggles about how they’re perceived. When will we stop talking about weight? Ever?

And then I read comments and posts about how women really felt what was being portrayed. Some of them couldn’t even watch it yet because…

Katherine Alexander

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