Evidence suggests a strong link between the sharing of deeply personal information and readership. Not just things like a favorite color or food, but real important stuff, like one’s shoe size. Medium.com is littered with ordinary folks who share intimate details about themselves, accruing more followers than Jesus—Jesus is the hispanic guy who runs the awesome local food truck in my home town.
Purchasing condoms when you’re 16 can be life altering. There are lots of choices to make. A misstep can mean eighteen years of accidental responsibility, or painful shots to clear up unplanned infections. But what should be a straightforward decision can easily end up a complex evaluation of options.
Blogger’s block—like writer’s block without the martini.
The ant wars are over. It’s been over a week since we saw our last ant. It is impossible to describe just how pleasant it is to be able to leave dishes in our sink again for our maid to wash. We’ve been spoiled over the last 18 months and doing dishes was a serious downer. But here we are a week later, a sink full of dishes, and not a single ant in sight. What happened?
I am engaged in an ant war, but it didn’t start out that way. Initially it was a gentle attempt to remind Mother Nature’s other creatures of the opportunities outside of our home. Despite fastidious cleanliness and a commitment to absolute aridity, our little ant guests refused to vacate. They were determined to remain in the relative comfort of our Indian villa. It would take more than a little extra elbow grease and a few paper towels to convince them to move out.