I don’t remember who posted the tweet about Iceland Writers Retreat. But I remember the arrow to the heart feeling when I saw it; that breathless half second like the moment between striking a match and seeing the flame.
I don’t remember who posted the tweet about Iceland Writers Retreat. But I remember the arrow to the heart feeling when I saw it; that breathless half second like the moment between striking a match and seeing the flame.
One of the lessons that resonated with me most in Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project was her rule to “Be Gretchen.” Rubin found that she wasted a lot of energy wishing she was the sort of person who appreciated jazz, who took advantage of more of the cultural opportunities in her city, who did all sorts of things that weren’t really her style, but that she thought should be. She realized you can’t play to your strengths if you aren’t honest about who you really are. Like Anne Rice’s vampires who wake up each evening with the same haircut they had when they died, whatever you think you’ve fixed about yourself just reverts to old habits with the sunrise.
I usually don’t pay much attention to statistics on this blog, but today I spent a little time trying to see what they could tell me about myself. It turns out that digital feedback can be as uncomfortable as personal feedback. But at least there is humor in it, too. The only thing more amazing than what people search for on the internet is the fact that their search led them here.
I hardly know where to begin talking about Pacific Northwest Ballet’s latest rep, Kylian + Pite, but I’m afraid that once I start, I won’t be able to stop. Like my recent experience with Ólafur Arnalds and Nils Frahm at Decibel Festival, this performance forced me to reconsider the very definition of one my favorite art forms.