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. 

Guys — I am absolutely loving my summer reading list! It started with Hillary's What Happened, which, as I wrote in ​Right Now is the Best, Weirdest Time to Read Hillary Clinton's 'What Happened', felt weirdly timely and relevant. I also enjoyed and recommend ​A History of the United States in Five Crashes: Stock Market Meltdowns That Defined a Nation (which also feels really relevant right now), ​Irreversible Damage: The Transgender Craze Seducing Our Daughters (which is alarming, to say the least), A Sand County Almanac (which is more soothing than poetry), and ​The Pioneers: The Heroic Story of the Settlers Who Brought the American Ideal West (which was educational, but definitely not my favorite).

Now, I'm finishing Marriage, a History: How Love Conquered Marriage, from which I learned a really weird and unexpected fact:

​Marriage counseling was pioneered as a form of eugenics. 

When people ask me what my blog is about, I want to tell them, "Playfulness." Playfulness is why I started this blog. It's on my About page; it's discussed on some of my most popular posts...

Yet one recurring theme has been assertiveness. Assertiveness seems at odds with playfulness... but, in fact, I've found assertiveness to be a crucial skill that enables my playfulness. 

​And it's probably one of the most important possible social skills you can learn and use during the current lockdown/quarantine/social distancing protocols.

I'm not outraged. I'm not offended. I'm just sad.

I recently had the good fortune of meeting ​Rich Gosse, chairman of The Society of Single Professionals and author of The Donald Trump Syndrome: Why Women Choose the Wrong Men to Love​.

He told me something none of you millennials are going to believe:

"Even though I founded the second ever online dating site back in the 1990s, I still think meeting face-to-face is best.”

And I agree.

Image: @TheHappyTalent on Instagram

Let me start by saying that I love you. I love that you want to be there for me. I love that you're showing concern for my health and recovery. It means so much​.

But can I just, real quick, tell you what my mornings have been like since my injury?

Angkor Wat. Image: @TheHappyTalent on Instagram.

On June 4, 2019, I was in Hong Kong, honoring the victims of Tiananmen Square alongside tens of thousands of Hongkongers whose freedom is in peril, and mainland Chinese citizens who aren't allowed to discuss June 4 in their hometowns. 

Then I hopped on a plane, traveled back in time to San Francisco, and lived June 4 all over again, this time commemorating the travesty by singing "Ohio" by Crosby Stills and Nash. Angrily repeating the refrain, "Four dead in Ohio! Four dead in Ohio! Four dead in Ohio!" I kept thinking about two things:

I screamed so loud, it echoed off the bricks and parking structures around us.

Fun fact: as a blogger, I get people pitching guest posts to me basically every day. I basically always say no. But once in a while, someone says something so brilliant, I've got to say yes. Among these: How to Be Happy, Even When You're Programmed Not To Be; 6 Reasons It's Not COMPLETELY Awful to Date A Guy Who Lives With His Parents; and If You Care About Women's Rights, Stop Saying Islam is a Religion of Peace. 

Today, my friend Claire* told me a story I thought was worth sharing -- so we did a co-write of her experience with a "good friend" the other night.

Yesterday, I wrote about how there's a difference between helping a depressed friend and enabling an abuser. My intention was to inform those whose friends suffer from mental illness to be compassionate... but remember to think critically about your actions and the effects they may have on your friend and his/her partner. 

Today, I'm writing a quick reminder to those who are, or may be, affected by mental illness:

Your partner is not your emotional slave.

My background is in psychology -- but not abnormal or relationship psychology. (I studied adult playfulness!) I want to acknowledge that before I start, because this is far from my area of expertise.

But I just saw some of THE MOST FUCKED UP SHIT on Facebook, and it prompted an important realization:

​There is a difference between helping a depressed friend and enabling an abuser.