PicoBlog

This time I was prepared.  Several summers ago, I accompanied my wife, Nuvia, and several of her colleagues on a business trip to Merida. While Nuvia and her cohorts, all high school teachers, attended an immersive Spanish-language institute, I roamed around the city and did my best to stay out of the sun and the afternoon thunderstorms. We all stayed together in a massive house that had a large kitchen and a pool in the backyard so that we could cool off in the evenings.

I don’t speak Yiddish fluently. Or even semi-fluently. But having lived in New York City for thirty-five years, I acquired a basic store of Yiddish words that, like many New Yorkers, Jewish or not, I employ as part of my ongoing vocabulary. Plus a smattering of Jewish expressions in English. The language may be dying, but certain words live on, and, I hope, always will. I moved to rural Louisiana last June to be with my girlfriend, Gaywynn.

Good morning. Let’s basketball. La Rendicion de Breda; Diego Velazquez; 1634-35 As I get my head right for the 2023 FIBA World Cup (Men’s Edition) in a couple weeks, I find myself focused on trying to assess where this version of Team USA grades out compared to those World Cup teams before it. The most obvious touchpoint is 2002, which was the cracking of the facade of eternal domination for the USA Basketball men.

If the throughline of season one is Accountability (sub-theme: Ted’s Ruinous Empathy), season two is all about Boundaries. The Ted we meet in season one is All Love, No Boundaries. We all know people like that–they can be charming and wonderful but ultimately exhausting for others and/or themselves. I shared in my previous post that his instant forgiveness of Rebecca rang a bit hollow to me, and thought at the time that if he could learn a little self-differentiation, his leadership would be unstoppable.

Unlike the last two years, I was actually in town during last weekend’s “One Tree Hill” convention. But I still didn’t attend. As I explained last year, I find the costs associated with these events, whether it be Friends with Benefit’s “One Tree Hill” festivities or something like “90s Con,” unjustifiable. As much as I’d like to attend in theory, I find it all a bit ridiculous in practice.

In 1995, I put pen to paper (literally, this was pre-Common App) and applied to two colleges: The University of Wisconsin in Madison and Marquette University in Milwaukee. I applied to UW because my boyfriend was a freshman there and I was convinced we were endgame. (I’ve written about him on here before; he was the Chicago Tribune’s Teen Movie Critic which to 17 year-old Brook Busey was just about the hottest, sweatiest, horniest thing imaginable.

Hello, “How to Feel Alive”-ers, First of all, some exciting news: Substack chose “How to Feel Alive” as a featured publication for the second time! Many thanks to all my long-time subscribers, and a very warm welcome to all the new members of this community who are just joining us. I’m so glad you’re here. Speaking of which, I want to get to know you! More specifically, I’d love to hear about what you’re interested in, struggling with, and inspired by—and what currently is (or isn’t) making you feel alive.

“The world is full of magic things,” wrote W. B Yeats, “patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” One such magical thing, I think, is synchronicity: the phenomenon of simultaneous occurrences that bring delight or make us sit up and take notice. Thinking of a friend right before they text us. Receiving a pearl of wisdom and then hearing it repeated over and over. Noticing repetitive symbols, signs and dreams.

Recently, I was reminiscing with Sheryl Sandberg about how she helped open the door for me to join Intuit board. Years, before there was an opening or I, was even qualified, Sheryl introduced me to Brad Smith, Intuit’s then-CEO. She told me before I went into the meeting that Brad might have a board seat open someday. I laughed because I was a rather junior employee at Facebook at the time.