Why I Still Want to Be Wonder Woman When I Grow Up

Why I Still Want to Be Wonder Woman When I Grow Up

Adults always ask little kids what they want to be when they grow up. When you're small, this question is exciting because it immediately propels you into imagining yourself in fantastic scenarios. I used to tell the grown ups I wanted to be a stewardess. (Don't start. It was the 70s, so we weren't saying "flight attendant.") I hadn't yet been on an airplane and imagined nothing could be more exciting than flying. Sure, traveling the world seemed okay, but the sky was the domain of super humans. People who could fly. Like Superman or Wonder Woman.And what I really wanted to be when I grew up was Wonder Woman. Wonder Woman had an invisible jet. Much cooler than handing out tiny pouches of nuts on an airplane. I only needed to twirl around like Lynda Carter, then look up at the sky. I could see myself up there, far above the Earth and all the nonsense below.Wonder Woman was...
Read More
The Inadequate Language of Expats and Immigrants

The Inadequate Language of Expats and Immigrants

The difference between an immigrant and an expat is significant. What makes a person one or the other is determined by their reasons for leaving their home country, and what they intend to do once they arrive in the new one. An immigrant has no plan to return home. He or she is not changing residence to achieve a career or educational goal. They're not chasing the novelty of a new experience. Integration into the new culture is necessary for survival. An expat is temporary. They travel to another country for whatever reason, and integrating into a new culture isn't as crucial, because one day, they'll go home again. If one is an expatriate, there's a suggestion of luxury and decadence.The difference is significant when we're talking about words. When we talk about the people, things are more complicated. Humans don't fit into neat little boxes and definitions. The British couple retiring to the apartment they recently purchased in Paris are expats. The...
Read More
These Days, I’m Totally Cool With Being a Goat-Eating White Trash Princess Barbie

These Days, I’m Totally Cool With Being a Goat-Eating White Trash Princess Barbie

If I were ranking each decade of my life, my 40s would have the top score. It's a comfortable place of knowing myself better than ever before, and full-blown adulthood is an achievement that brings rewards previously unimagined. It's a strange time of contradictions where I give fewer shits, but care more deeply. I still feel outrage and anger, but find that it isn't channeled the same way, and is focused on different targets. I'm wiser, but am still learning and pay attention to the lessons with greater awareness. I'm better equipped to know which battles to fight, and which to let go. And why.In 2003, the couple living next door began calling me "Barbie" soon after we met. I'm like a Barbie doll, they say. I shake my head, and tell them they're wrong. I love hanging out with these two women. We open the doors of our apartments and sit on the steps, the three of us drinking...
Read More
A Story About Expat Depression and How I Might Be a Wizard

A Story About Expat Depression and How I Might Be a Wizard

When you move to another country, the whirlwind of emotions begins to wreak havoc before you even take the suitcase out of the closet. Anticipation. Fear. Sadness. The entire spectrum from a childlike eagerness all the way to paralyzing despair. Trading in home, friends, family, your native language, and all that is safe, comfortable, and familiar for a strange and uncertain future is scary, but exciting. Profoundly exciting. I often deal with complex emotions and challenges in one of three ways: 1) writing about them 2) completely avoiding them with chemicals and escapist entertainment 3) Googling the shit out of every aspect and detail until I fill my brain with enough information to comfort myself, or ignite a full-on freak out.In 2005, I scoured the Internets and found mountains of bullshit about what moving to Paris is like for an American. Intimidating bullshit that made me feel like a sewer rat. These blogs and sites were written by people very...
Read More
Short Stories and Tiny Blissful Moments

Short Stories and Tiny Blissful Moments

How are we doing these days? Holding up? Hanging in there? I hope so. If you're reading this, I hope you're doing so during a brief pause from doing nice things for yourself like reading books, making art, drinking beers, and eating some really incredible food. Tiny blissful moments are a big deal. Everything that's going on in the world constantly draws me in and I feel compelled to read the news and dive into my Twitter feed, but lately, I'm suffering from information fatigue. Mostly, it's Trump fatigue. I don't need to experience a daily bombardment of voices each day telling me that he said an awful thing. Both sides harbor their own set of obsessions that tend to weigh heavy on everyone. Too much of that shit and I start to morph into Rust Cohle from the first season of True Detective.There's a lot of scared people. Angry people. And people who think none of this matters, or...
Read More
Break Through These Times of Trouble

Break Through These Times of Trouble

This is a love story. It is not unique. I've lived others like it, and so have you. Like many love stories, this one ends with tears, confusion, and a lot of reminiscing about its beginning. Where it began was 1991, a time in my memory that is strange, dark, and forever distorted by a thick layer of time and smoke. It was an unhappy time, immersed in anger, abuse, and large amounts of cheap booze. My mother and my boyfriend at the time had a weird and wildly inappropriate thing going on together. When I'd catch them in the act, they responded by telling me I was crazy. I felt crazy. This was compounded by the fact that we three lived in the same house. I wanted him to leave. She did not. Every day, I was furious and frustrated. But, one day, just as 1991 was nearly at an end, on a not so very special day in...
Read More