This week marks a year since volunteering in the Black Forest, and I’ve been amusing myself with memories of those last couple of days – dancing to Gangnam Style, the secretly hilarious and articulate guy who turned into the life of the party after a few drinks, crying when farewelling our youngest protege. Already everyone’s names are fading from memory; I’m almost tempted to dig out the emails to remind myself.
This week’s links:
Where are all our strong female characters? The Dissolve tells it like it is
When a TED talk inspires you to take a mid-career sabbatical
Budgets Are Sexy reminds us that nobody can take away whatever you’ve already accomplished
Paula says getting paid to travel is a myth
Here’s a great way to think about choices: How will I feel about this when today is over?
I love this: When a mother gives her daughter her last name (I don’t like my last name – so that’s easy. But if I did, you can bet that’d be one tough decision to face)
Budget and the Beach shares five things to do when freelance work slows down
When it comes to pairing up, apparently class and attractiveness are fundamentally linked
At Dinner, A Love Story: Things loved and learned in Alaska
Lastly, this Hairpin piece on accepting your partner as is struck me to the very core:
“I am happy whenever I see see him in his element, powerful and engaged, creating the ephemeral landscapes that surround live performers. I understand that the daily rhythm of regular mealtimes, bill-paying, and laundry-folding must seem trite by comparison, but how else does a family build a life? So I end up raging at him about the impracticality of his chosen career path, the lack of dark leafy greens in his diet, and the fact that we have managed to save exactly zero dollars for college or retirement. His eyes still gloss over, but less so: he is making strides. Somehow we truly co-parent amidst the whacked-out hours and gigs and general mayhem that hustling as a young family with two toddlers entails. We are in love, even still, ever more.
“But the thing about being a recovering shithead is that even after you’ve made substantive changes to the way you live your life, unsavory flotsam continually drifts to the surface. He never did anything with the intention of hurting anyone else, and assumed that he was only flatlining his own credit and complicating things for himself in queue. In reality, the pre-existing fallout from the years before I even knew him limits our financial options and impacts our marriage every day. I am always worried, now, that someone is looking for him. This makes us both so sad.
“How can I apologize to you for who I used to be?” he asks.
Happy weekends!
