The first time I thought I was fat was on the bus in fifth grade.

My little thighs were spreading out and sticking to the brown vinyl seat that had, in places, been duct taped together.

It was a hot late spring afternoon and this was North Carolina. The windows were down to cool us off but I was more concerned about the size of my legs than anything else. 

In the past week I've done some meditations and journaling to get to the heart of my heart's desires. 

What do I really want? 

What do I desire that I'm barely aware of? 

Which of my desires are not really my true desires? 

How can I know? 

It feels like we’re surrounded by violence. And the violence we’ve been experiencing (mostly, I hope, as bystanders) in our nation and world is tragic. 

Those who commit these violent acts are, in most cases, individuals. Solitary men. (Sorry, dudes, but not so many chicks are involved in mass shootings and terrorist acts.) Men who make a series of decisions that lead them to end the lives of others.

Over the weekend Kanye West revealed to the world via twitter that he is $53 million in debt.*

He also revealed that he most likely is mentally ill. I don’t want to armchair psychoanalyze him but I’d say he’s got a heavy dose of clinical narcissism going on.

And because he’s clearly a creature in pain, I don’t want to make fun of him. Instead, we’ll let Stephen Colbert do that.

Just writing that title kinda makes me feel icky. "Burned, stupid, ashamed" came up during a convo with a sales coach and I was sharing with her my experience with high dollar "masterminds." You know- the ones where you pay $25k for the privilege of 3 group retreats and then an hour of your coach's time per month.