If you happened to read my last-week-of-school blog post from this past June, you might remember how frustrated and saddened I was by student attitudes that rounded out the school year. I'm not naïve enough to expect every kid to be excited for the last day of school, ready and eager to attend their class parties, field days, or whatever celebrations await them. I've known better than that for as long as I've held the job. But I certainly found myself oddly wistful for my own

Who are we supposed to look to for proof that we don't have to disappear into obligation and jadedness by the time we hit the mid mark? I'm looking for the woman who can show me.

When I say "transhumanism," I'm not talking about inhabiting Mars or becoming a multi-planetary species. I'm talking about the philosophical position that human limitation is a fundamental error.

A book about presence, written by someone who seems barely present with or tolerant of the reader's actual experience of reading it: that's the central irony I kept returning to, and I was never quite able to shake it.

There is a very specific thing the vast majority of the world wants, and the sophisticated word for it is reconciliation.

It's really no woman's fault that she feels the need to diet, obsessively work out, or take a drug to lose weight. It is what is not-so-subtly asked of all of us. Especially now, in the most conservative era we've lived through in quite a while. But this is where everyone's got it backwards.

It happened to you not long ago: A friend you haven't seen in entirely too long was up and at it, ready to make plans. You talked to them for a while. You found a time and place that agreed with both of your schedules. They were so excited, and you were too - you've been missing each other deeply. The days passed, and there was a small voice in the back of your head that you ignored; one that said "They're going to flake. They always do." Sure enough... How about this: Work t

There's another kind of tragedy here, one that takes place on an individual level - the same one I find myself grappling with at this very moment. Why must I wait to hear what my chosen media outlet says about this - or anything, for that matter - before I can form my own opinion?