A while back, I wrote that there are no bad essay topics — there are only bad essays. 

Similarly, there is no such thing as small talk — only small minds. The good news is, if you're one of those people who "hates small talk" or thinks small talk is "boring" or "meaningless" or "shallow," you are not doomed to be boring and meaningless and shallow. 

"Small talk," like any social skill, is a skill. And this one is really easy to learn.

​All you have to do...

Hello, today's teenagers. I know you don't remember this, but back when you were three months old, you likely began showing self-soothing behaviors — that is, you began learning how to calm down, relax and go to sleep again in your bed.

By the time you were six months old, your parents were actively encouraging you to self-soothe, as this is around the time you could make it through the night without needing to be fed. 

And I'll bet you were crushing it!

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. 

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: