This stupid comic! Three different people posted this on my social media this morning in  unrelated discussions about "unfair double standards."

Which is why I feel morally obligated to inform you: if you actually look at it, this comic means the opposite of what you think it does. 

The Curmudgeon's Quests, by Allan Wooley​

When I found out Mr. Parris died, I sat on my porch and wept — the mailman didn't know what to do when he saw me there, blocking the mailbox. 

What a heartbreaking loss for the whole world. 

Last week, I found out that yet another teacher who shaped my high school experience had died. Though sad, I took comfort in learning that he'd published three books in his retirement. 

I'm only on page 20 of Crumbs Cast Upon the Current: Some Stories, Poems, and Essays... but I already wish that all of my teachers would write a memoir before it's too late. 

They say money can't buy happiness -- but they're totally wrong. First of all, on a log scale, more money does​ mean more happiness:

A recent article in The Harvard Crimson complained that scholarship recipients felt "uncomfortable" and "out of place" at an annual Scholarship Dinner, where students had the opportunity to network with billionaires and millionaires (many of whom were, themselves, scholarship recipients in their days at Harvard) while eating delicious food.

Image: @TheHappyTalent on Instagram

Last night, I debuted my first-ever original Christmas song -- and, a few mistakes notwithstanding, it went pretty well! 

Which is funny, because when I decided to write a Christmas song, I thought there was about a 1% chance I'd create something that wasn't embarrassingly awful and cheesy. 

​So how did I do it?

Simple. 

​I tied a hand behind my back.

So I went to this super epic camping party this weekend.​ (Just an hour from home, too -- I love discovering new adventures right in my own backyard.) There were burgers, guitars, and beautiful harmonies. I was just about to debut my new song, "Expats Are Expats for a Reason," when one of the trip organizers made an announcement:

We were to gather around the fire for group storytime. And during this storytime, I realized that if you're a feminist guy or a male ally or whatever... you kind of just can't win.

I was never a fan of "motivational speakers" -- I have plenty of motivation, and when I listen to someone talk, it's because I want to laugh or learn.

But I stumbled upon an inspirational talk by author Brené Brown a few years ago, and it made me laugh and learn so much that I've listened to it at least once per year since.

​Listen to it -- I guarantee you'll at least crack a smile.

True fact: "bitchy" is a gender neutral term.

​And if you’re being passive aggressive, you’re being bitchy -- regardless of what’s in your pants.

And… it is my moral obligation -- to myself, to the speaker, and to society -- to ignore passive aggression.

"That Christmas dress -- my lord!" someone said recently when I posted this photo on my Instagram. It simultaneously felt nice to get a compliment... and slightly uncomfortable, because for some reason, our culture drills into us that it's bad to accept a compliment. 

"Eva, just admit it," a guy friend insisted recently. 'You're a flirt."

"What exactly do I do that makes you think that?"

He pondered for a moment, before sheepishly answering, "You smile... and make eye contact.​