I conclude this week's virtual therapy session, like always, lamenting my life’s lack of meaning.
“I just wish I was doing something more noble with my time,” I say.
“You don’t find your work spiritually fulfilling?” asks my therapist.
I tell her no, I don’t find my work spiritually fulfilling.
“Do you have a friend or colleague who does something that you feel is noble?”
“My friend Laura Cohen. She’s in med...
Juniper needs to look good but not too good. They figure some foundation, a little blush, and a touch of mascara will do the trick. Oh, and they need to take some scissors to those Eugene Levy eyebrows of theirs, not that they don’t like them but the husbands, well, not so much. Juniper has already attended several tanning sessions, dyed their hair blonde, and achieved the tousled beach look that the...
When my mother died, I turned to books, reading with an obsessiveness I hadn’t experienced since my teenage years. I started with the classics—Barthes and Didion, C.S. Lewis’s A Grief Observed—before moving on to Rilke and other poets, and then the memoirs on mother loss, some of which were written by poets. I soon broadened my reading to the death of a child, widows’ memoirs, grisly accounts of stillbirths and genetic disorders....
