Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of April 27, 2025
Acknowledging when you fuck up is as important as acknowledging when someone else fucks up. Difference is, you should be harder on yourself than you are on them.
![I Believe... [GenX Kids Were Monsters]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1656705459356-4SBBL7QMYXZJXKGTMGJX/0D80A955-1BDB-4379-AB27-D628B1BB8BCE.jpeg)
I Believe... [GenX Kids Were Monsters]
...that, if you’re honest with yourself, you know that you and your prepubescent friends would’ve beat E.T. with rebar and hammers, would’ve absolutely ostracized Edward Scissorhands, and would’ve taken Rick Moranis’s shrunken kids and put them in a mason jar with a firecracker.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of November 15, 2020
Stop being so hard on yourself and everyone else. Just be social. Just be cool. Stop expecting so much from everything but have the ambition to make it all better. Then follow through.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of June 30, 2019
Sesame Street needs a Hasidic Jew character. Could be a Muppet, could be a human. Yes, there’s Oscar the Grouch and Julia the Autistic, but to truly represent an individual who complains and struggles with a break from routine, a Hasidic Jew is the best you’ll get.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of February 17, 2019
• Forgiveness is not valued enough. And too often, it’s not even attempted. And that’s why we’re doomed.
• I feel a crushing amount of guilt and regret for thinking that Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is an attractive person. I feel the same way about Ivanka Trump.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of May 20, 2018
My wife told me that while changing our son’s diaper yesterday, he reached down, grabbed his little nut sack and yanked on it. “He’s your son,” she said to me. “He’s already sitting in gum.” If you understand what she’s talking about then you know how proud my son has made me.
Her fury, her hurt, her fear and shame was pure focus. She dug deeper into her legs. The blood began to run down her thighs, soaking through her dress and forming a small puddle in the pew.