Change doesn’t always suck, but sometimes it fucking does

Photo of Ryan and Momo by me

Yesterday, when I saw our new kitten Momo playing finally with our bigger cat, Ryan, I realized something. I realized how amazing change is and how — even though it is scary and awful sometimes — it can be very exciting, too.

If you think about it, if you were a kitten and this whole world was new and strange to you and along comes this massive animal that looks like it’s going to eat you but instead of eating you it actually just wants to play with you… how cool would that be?

I wish I could experience that…

Somewhere between fact and fiction: how about ‘faction?’

This is about a writer trying to find the Lilo to their Stitch

Shameless clickbait pic of our new kitten Momo who has single-pawedly turned me into a one-handed typist

I get lonely sometimes and don’t feel like anybody gets me, so I write things down in the hopes that some amazing perfect person out there will read this and think to themselves, ‘That chick rocks and I want to make word babies with her!’

No, not really. But kinda. Sorta?

What I mean is, is there another human being out there who thinks in awkward, strange lines that run in and out and around the box like me? I don’t mean that I’m looking to marry or date you, although I am sure somebody now is reading this and…


Transcribed from a screenshot and published by her worst enemy

Drawing by the author of how I imagine Martha’s face when she finds out what I’ve done

it’s late. i’m tired. so tired right now that i know it makes no sense to share any of these raw thoughts. utterly dumb if i did. like cutting off my own arm. you don’t want to do that. you’d only hurt yourself. so i am writing this now in the hope that i’ll remember that i wrote this in the morning and will make it more presentable for the public. i sure hope so. there is a lot more i want to say, but saying it at 12:51am is a recipe for a nightmare.

i want to tell the…


An ode to unappresh beauty

Dear hair, STRAY hair

You are so fair, hair

I know you mean well, hair

You’re trying to do what the good lord asked you

But you picked the wrong place to emerge, hair

I’m sorry to hurt your feelings, hair

I know you have them

When i snip off your end

And like sisyphus’ boulder

You push up the mountain of my derm layers and begin again

Aren’t we all just like you, hair

Coming out of our wombs only to be cut off

And then forced to try again

Psychologically for the rest of our lives

But still…


And she’s going to start living her best life just the way it is

selfie (because aforesaid ‘woman’ wasn’t available for a pic)

A woman who has lived with shame and guilt (but also gluttony and whoredom, a lesser known but very pleasurable evil) has decided that she has had it with self help videos, books, seminars, gurus and wedding planners who dole out unsolicited advice during nuptial preparations.

She’s ready to start LIVING HER BEST LIFE which in her head means day drinking, sexting strangers she never plans on meeting in the light of day or dark of night and drying seasonal fruit when she’s alone in her apartment toying between a second career as a UPS driver or a morgue cosmetician.


You have to be able to answer the majority of the following questions with a 90% accuracy rating.

Drawing by me

Meaning we need to be in sync. If you end up answering above a 90%, you will advance to the next level which involves taking a road trip to see if we can stand being around each other for long periods of boringness.

If you pass that test along with a background check AND you can verify that you have a disposable income of at least $30k (which can include assets like rare coins and signed copies of Jack Kerouac novels) then you may advance to the…

The last test(or the next to last, depending on how you look at…


Or, Making peace with the mess

Drawing by yours truly

I’m living with my dad now. My kids have almost moved out — both 18 with bright futures ahead and I’m proud but also sad to see them go — and I’m the kind of person who hates goodbyes. Like, I REALLY hate them. That’s partly why my dad is living with me. To help me through the trauma, I suppose. I invited him to live with me for his sake (he has medical issues), knowing full well it was for mine.

I don’t understand this feeling. I feel like I’m at the end of something. Sure something new will…


But it seems other people have a problem with it


For a long time now, I couldn’t care less if people laughed at me. Maybe it’s because I’m older and I don’t give a shit. Maybe it’s because I’m twice divorced. (I wish I could have said ‘thriced.’ That would have been funnier.)

Maybe it’s because I’ve been single so long that I’ve become hardened and don’t care so much what other people think of me. But whatever it is, it’s there — the feeling that it just doesn’t matter how dumb I look.

Sure a little vino helps, but…

Lara Starcevich, Ph.D.

Writer/teacher/podcaster. ‘Average Joe Talk Show’ https://anchor.fm/lara-starcevich

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