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When I write like this, which is pretty much always, that "pathetic life” and "woe-is-me" guilt creeps up on me at times. I’ve been accused of excessive navel gazing and “emotionalism,” and sometimes it fucks my writing up because I start to give fucks to people that don’t matter.

It’s a good thing I compete at the expert level of Giving No Fucking Fucks.

Which brings me to my point. There is a shit blizzard of writing that is sugar coated and insincere and void of intimacy and vulnerability. So much advice. So much shaming bullshit. It’s the mess of life that needs to be talked about. It’s the mistakes and the longing and the struggles and the tragedies that shape us, not the perfect moments. Good times are the life-school recesses from growth. And thank Sky God for them because growth hurts. Lots (dare I same most) of people hide their pain away and pretend to be better than what they really are because they're ashamed and been conditioned to be cowards since birth. It fucks them up and stunts them. And so their lives are spent chasing the next good time and lashing out with harsh judgement when someone has the audacity to bleed on the sidewalk.

Thanks for showing your bones, Erika. Because the inspiration that most need is to know it’s okay to feel, to feel ALL the feels.

BTW, the part when you talk about not having "that someone” to call in the midst of Bad Shit punched me right in the heart. Not that I felt sorry for you, but because I know that feeling.

Carry on with your bad self, lady. Congrats on the gig.

4 weeks ago on Life’s Messy – Stop Trying to Clean it Up


"Sharing for me is about giving no fucks so someone might see a bit of their story in mine and give fewer fucks to the things undeserving of that limited supply of fucks and in the process, realizing what he actually gives a fuck about.

Yeah. That.

2 months, 3 weeks ago on Hard Truths, Day 34: Remembering Why


I love it when you blow your wad all over my eyeballs. xo

5 months, 2 weeks ago on On Becoming Erika Napoletano


As an epic self-loather in need of a corresponding 12 step-like program, I fight with "being enough" every day. It’s why I don’t date anyone but myself now. It’s the relationship I need the most. 

But I admire you most because you bleed in public. When you share too much, when you rage triumphantly, when you stumble calculating life-math, when you shed tears in the shape of words.

Aces, beautiful lady, aces.

8 months, 2 weeks ago on When the Tears Fall Harder and Faster than Late Summer Rain


Goddamm, Erika. All the feels. ALL THE FEELS.

"How gorgeous would it feel to know that your feelings, wants, and needs were the catalyst for a better conversation? That by daring to be brave and vulnerable, you were the reason that something in this world got better?

We were never designed to carry all of our own weight. And the myth that we’re supposed to do it our damn selves and all the damn time…well, I know down to my red-painted big toes that is the reason for much dysfunction in this twisted world we’re destined to endure.”

Right. In. The. Heart.


8 months, 3 weeks ago on I Don’t Think You Should Click This Post. At Least, I’m Pretty Sure. Kinda.


People math. Some make quantum physics out of simple addition. +1 Erika, negative infinity instructor-guy.

9 months, 3 weeks ago on How to Accept a Gift or How to Not Be a Jerk When Someone Gives You One


Fucks into Yeahs. Imagine if we were all doing that. And although my iPhone does not have Siri, if it did, I’d remove it and install Erika.


10 months ago on Father of the Year: An Audioblog


My fears are far more snooty. I saw those fuckers at Whole Foods drinking kombucha.

You give me a heart-on, Erika. xo

1 year ago on Sometimes I Have Good Ideas — Others, I Have Two Ex-Husbands


With words like this, my stupid crush on you continues... I’m glad you are uniquely you, but it kinda sucks because I can’t ride bikes with you. I declare the Internets the best and worst thing ever invented.


1 year, 1 month ago on The Human Condition: A Short Read on a Long-Ass Subject


God. Damn. It.


There’s a virtual cornucopia of things that are the cause of my crush on you. Of course you are beautiful, I mean, who the hell would deny that? But, there are three things that cinched it:


First, you write. The kind created from a fearless authenticity that often reveals your heart in a very vulnerable ways. OMG.


Second, you are a cyclist. WTF.


But most importantly, while perusing (stalking) your Facebook photos, I happened upon a picture of your early 80’s Commodore computer tape drive. OMGWTFBBQ!


I identify in so many ways to this post. I’d swear you reached into my chest, pulled out my heart and read the pages. Geek on, @RedheadWriting , geek on.



3 years, 1 month ago on There’s Something Dead Sexy About a Geek