The May 13th Round-Up, Today's Your Lucky Day for Reading the Internet Edition
Juliet writes about infertility and Ryan writes about the dangers of pointillism.
Well hello readers!
They say comedy is tragedy plus time. But if enough time hasn't passed yet to cross that line, you get an emotional, up close look at someone's life. John Mulaney lets us all in a little.
Speaking of closer looks, Russia has always been a country rife with un-explainable (or purposefully unexplained) events. And this one has always been one of the weirdest. Now we might have an answer, but will it satisfy those who want it to be a yeti from outer space?
And while it does feel weird to think about a return to normal, as people head back to the office, you may want to explore a hybrid model, working from home a bit instead of a full work week in the office. The Atlantic recommends two days wfh as the optimal amount. As someone who did two days at home for years, I have some tips: space them out so that you're never home consecutive days (I did Tuesdays and Fridays at home). Ask for a trial period of 6-9 months if you think your boss won't immediately go for it. And do laundry on the days you're home. It'll make your weekend lot better.
Speaking of better weekends, if you’re looking for a blog to geek out on, check out this NYC architect's detailed blog.
Finally, some of you may be asking yourselves, as Freddie Mercury never did “is this the wheel life? Is this just fantasy?” A subscription to The Wheelhouse Review might be the answer you’re looking for. Already subscribed? Tell your friends!
On the blog this week…
Hopes Like White Elephants
Some Thoughts on Infertility for Mother's Day
In October 2020, I discovered that I was pregnant with my second son.
Nine months before I found out that I was pregnant, I went into a kind of isolation. My husband and I were diagnosed with “unexplained infertility” and encouraged to begin a series of intrauterine insemination (IUI) in order to conceive our second child. Infertility is itself isolating. Secondary infertility is the red-headed stepchild1 of the inability to conceive. The whole fertility-technological complex has been designed around the needs of people without any children. And it definitely was not built to cater to parents with toddlers during a pandemic.
The Summer of '99
A Portrait of the Writer as a Young "Artist"
It was the summer of ‘99. To earn some money before college I lined up a job working for my town as a member of the paint crew. The job was simple: paint over the graffiti on the school. We lived in an upper-middle class suburb so the graffiti was mostly harmless. Stuff like which equestrian team is better or whose dad was on cocaine. Nothing offensive, but for whatever reason the school wanted it gone. I guess I did too when I saw my dad’s name on the wall. My dad had never done a drug in his life; he just laundered money for the cartel. I mean, I’m no Banksy but I feel like graffiti should at least be accurate.
Thanks for reading! Have a great weekend and get ready for a whole new week of great reads on Monday.