I’m Ariella, and for a long time, I have been undercover as a regular suburban mom, trying to guard the secret that I am bursting with ideas and observations about the world. Recently, a good friend pointed out that I haven’t been very successful at holding it all in, which is admittedly true. So rather than continuing to have things leak out in inconvenient places, I decided to park them all here.
Some of the things I like to write about are religion, parenting, marriage, and all forms of human connection. I’m especially interested in big collective stories that shape how we see the world, particularly because sometimes, it’s strangely easy to ignore them.
Do you suppose that it’ll ever make a comeback the way that 70’s bellbottoms did? Maybe I’m ahead of the curve. Or maybe behind. Or maybe I just think it’s just fun to romp around the world on intellectual adventures. Join me?
I’m still not sure how 404 million works of fiction get sold every year in this country, but I’m more sure how worthy an endeavor it all is. Go support authors and buy books!
So many things these days aren’t holding up well, don’t hold true even five minutes later as the world continues to shift under my feet. But here is a little snapshot of the way that my heart is broken today.
On Tuesday night, our local JCC hosted a gathering in solidarity for Israel. I’m not sure if it was billed as a gathering or a
Solving a Rubik’s cube is a parlor trick. There is no real reward for it the way there are for other pursuits.
So why are there so many people who can do it?
What if there could be a wild success, of creating “good jobs, while protecting workers’ rights, wages, health and safety”? Wouldn’t that be a most excellent thing to celebrate on a Labor Day?
If I had been asked to say what the book was about, I would have said that it was about how real love doesn’t look shiny and sparkly and how vulnerability is different than perfection. But this time I found a deeper argument about the limits of metaphor.
