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In my new Substack post, To Grandfather’s House We Go. Dark Tate R. Hole, PhD lore but hopefully pretty funny and lighthearted despite the circumstances…
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Apr 14, 2024

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I always take the winding two lane mountain road home from work, it’s 8 minutes longer and so much prettier than the interstate. I see longhorn cows, sheep, goats, fluorescent red sugar maples. Yesterday I took a trip to visit my grandmothers grave with my mother and my 101 year old grandpa. Over a century later, he still remembers every old road and scenic back way to get around, who lived in what house, where they worked, who were friends, enemies, and lovers. He told me stories about every nook and cranny in that tiny town nestled among the Blue Ridge. Building the church on the corner of the graveyard and using popcorn in the mortar which got so hot it popped. Exploring the flour mill with his friends which today is a miniature museum of the town history. How he and his fellow boy scouts used buckets and shovels to help fight the raging fire that spread across the mountain range. He showed me the railroad his father was a pipefitter on and the few blocks he walked to work, the corner their little dog would wait dutifully for his whistle to come running after hearing the work bell every evening. He sang me the song about catfish they used to sing while bathing in the calm river in the summer months, the same river that claimed the life of his brother in law. I miss the city and our friends, but I know we have so much time to make our own stories in the decades to come. I feel so blessed that I have him in my life and to be living again in my hometown to hear these stories and so many others. I am so grateful that he gets to spend time with my husband and celebrate the joining of our families. If you’re lucky enough to have a grandparent or any elder in your life, give them a call or pay them a visit and let them tell you stories, even the ones you’ve heard before. Ask questions about what it was like when they were your age and tell them how much you love them.
Nov 2, 2024
Jan 26, 2024

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My dad teases me about how when I was a little kid, my favorite thing to do when I was on the landline phone with somebody—be it a relative or one of my best friends—was to breathlessly describe the things that were in my bedroom so that they could have a mental picture of everything I loved and chose to surround myself with, and where I sat at that moment in time. Perfectly Imperfect reminds me of that so thanks for always listening and for sharing with me too 💌
Feb 23, 2025
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I’ve been thinking about how much of social media is centered around curating our self-image. When selfies first became popular, they were dismissed as vain and vapid—a critique often rooted in misogyny—but now, the way we craft our online selves feels more like creating monuments. We try to signal our individuality, hoping to be seen and understood, but ironically, I think this widens the gap between how others perceive us and who we really are. Instead of fostering connection, it can invite projection and misinterpretation—preconceived notions, prefab labels, and stereotypes. Worse, individuality has become branded and commodified, reducing our identities to products for others to consume. On most platforms, validation often comes from how well you can curate and present your image—selfies, aesthetic branding, and lifestyle content tend to dominate. High engagement is tied to visibility, not necessarily depth or substance. But I think spaces like PI.FYI show that there’s another way: where connection is built on shared ideas, tastes, and interests rather than surface-level content. It’s refreshing to be part of a community that values thoughts over optics. By sharing so few images of myself, I’ve found that it gives others room to focus on my ideas and voice. When I do share an image, it feels intentional—something that contributes to the story I want to tell rather than defining it. Sharing less allows me to express who I am beyond appearance. For women, especially, sharing less can be a radical act in a world where the default is to objectify ourselves. It resists the pressure to center appearance, focusing instead on what truly matters: our thoughts, voices, and authenticity. I’ve posted a handful of pictures of myself in 2,500 posts because I care more about showing who I am than how I look. In trying to be seen, are we making it harder for others to truly know us? It’s a question worth considering.
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