Narrative goblin, already writing you into a novel

We were on the clock and supposed to be finding me a work uniform, but instead, Becca and I were trying on jeans at the Macy's across the street. Becca was my beautiful, bubbly coworker who was, among other things, little. As in tall, but skinny. As in someone with a body type to envy. That's why I assumed she'd lost her mind when she tossed the jeans she had just tried on over the dressing room wall to me and said, "Hey, try these." "I am not the same size as you," I replied, shocked by the...

I often say I don’t like people, which is not true at all. I love people—just certain ones whom I see at specific times of my choosing. It’s not so much “not liking” the rest as it is a persistent, low-grade disappointment over how people ruin everything. The best example I can offer: in 2019, during a government shutdown-induced staffing shortage, visitors to Joshua Tree National Park decided to “create new roads” for off-roading and cut down a handful of trees that may have been older than...

The first self-development workshop I ever attended was led by Simone, a coworker from the steakhouse at which I bartended. A handful of open-minded serving staff and I poured ourselves into her tiny living room in the Hollywood Hills for four hours one Saturday. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, only that someone had recently suggested I watch The Secret, and the idea of manifestation was something I found intriguing. At one point in the workshop, Simone asked us if we wanted...

I recently read a post by someone I admire (I’m even a paying subscriber), where he declared that “following your passion” is the worst career advice he’s ever received. He went on to say that pursuing happiness isn’t a noble life purpose—in fact, it’s selfish—and that the real goal is to be useful. At face value, the advice to pursue usefulness seems sensible. I also agree with his later admonishment to create more than you consume. But it was so hard to hear the worthwhile bits of advice...

I have no chill, Reader. I fall in love with a new person, place or thing at least three times a week. Often, that looks like loudly declaring my undying devotion to someone’s product. I’m looking at you, kombucha slurpee lady from the farmer’s market. You are a magician 😍 Last year, at a wine festival I attend religiously every spring, one of the chefs introduced me to a coworker as “his stalker.” That’s the day I learned I was extra. (Also, Steve, that’s not a very nice way to talk about...