(A Future in Storytelling)
“Your writing…incredible. Your life…motivating. You inspire me to be a storyteller who embraces all that life throws my way. I am about to graduate from college, and White Elephant in the Room gives me a fresh outlook on life and a hunger for more stories—both my own and other’s. Thank you for sharing so many of yours.” — Nevena, Florida
My dad’s sister has survived the odds: a gunshot wound inflicted by her husband, pelvic cancer, seizures, diabetic comas, and more recently, kidney failure. With every setback, she’s a little worse for the wear, but Aunt Janice somehow always beats the house. When I was a kid, conversing with her wasn’t easy. The bullet had caused deafness and neither of us knew sign language, so sharing...
(The Right Moment...)
“I have been wanting to write you since I read your first post, but I held back so I could collect my thoughts—and read every story. I just officially caught up with every haunting word…what a mix of glamour, pain and strength. I am in a cross-continental relationship and when I read about your and Alberto’s whirlwind romance, I ache for my boyfriend. Because of you, I am...
First worn in 2005: my white Paige jeans. To my L.A. engagement party. Last worn in 2009: my white Paige jeans. To a post-Alberto dinner with one of our friends. Sent the jeans to the drycleaners with a drop of ponzu sauce. They came back with a stain of ponzu sauce. But 2009 was not a year of “working” on stains. It was the year of outsourcing. Of storing. Of I’ll-deal-with-it-later. Three...
(Shocked in the City)
“I don’t know how I found White Elephant in the Room, but I do know that for the past two nights, I’ve been reading your story obsessively. While I’m not a widow, I connect with your words on several levels. I, too, am a 30-something in New York City. Both our marriages seemingly spanned the same exact period of time. There are other shocking similarities, but this...
A friend/crush-for-half-a-decade was found dead last week. Heart attack. Hoffman was the jokester buddy of my then-boyfriend, and he was one of the few people I didn’t lose in the divorce. A year after my break-up, he was in law school at Tulane and I was at Berkeley. It was the year 2000, when my birthday happened to fall on Fat Tuesday. Fly in, he said. Stay Mardi Gras week. We’ll kill it...
Last night was the annual Boat Race Dinner at the Harvard Club in NYC. I slipped on pearl earrings, my Miu Mius and into a seat beside one of my besties, an Oxford gal. Beyond the usual Oxford/Cambridge rivalry, this year’s dinner was fueled by more than red wine: the ‘swimmer’ who disrupted—nay, THREW—last Saturday’s race. I had seen the pictures. Read the articles about...
(From The Left Coast)
“Whenever I’m down, it seems like something will remind me of you and inspire me to be half the girl you’ve become. White Elephant in the Room: you are the shit…and I thank you.” — Super Girl in Progress, California
Gave up two vices for Lent. Three weeks later, I dismissed a few more. Continued to replace the sporting life with healthy habits: Like breakfast. Pilates. Moderation. Meditation. I’ve tripped and fallen a few times: On a bottle of wine. An order of mozzarella sticks. A pack of cigarettes. A band. But even in the lapses, there’s progress: What I now consider a slip-and-fall is pretty...
(From Alberto's Mother)
“I just caught up with White Elephant in the Room, and when I read ‘My Own Alberto’ from Amy, I had one of my meltdowns. I loved it. I related so much to it. I love you, mi Nene.” — Hilda, Miami
1-2-3-lift! It’s the last night of my mom’s annual Spring visit and true to tradition, we’re rotating the mattress in my bedroom. The bed is lighter than I remember. (Or maybe I’m stronger?) For the first time since 2009, I’m ready to do more than flip the mattress: I’m ready to vacuum the three years of dust, lint, memories and black-outs that have gathered underneath. So I guess you’ll take it...