Author Archives: Jessica

Have We Forgotten?: Response to The NYTimes

The story To Be Black at Stuyvesant High from the NYTimes this week did not sit well with me. This story focuses on the sad real­ity of some spe­cific indi­vid­u­als, which is inter­est­ing and impor­tant in its own way, but it means the story doesn’t get at the root of what’s actu­ally hap­pen­ing here. Black

just don’t finish it.

Per­haps you know the feel­ing: so many thoughts, so many half-baked phrases, not quite sure how to put it all on paper, mind going crazy with hyper-links to all the other still-doughy ideas of the last for­ever.  Per­haps you also know this end­ing: no writ­ing accom­plished, many pages surfed, beers ingested, feel­ing of fail­ure. A

A New Place, Some New Thoughts

It has been a long while since I’ve pub­lished. In the spring, I went through what many of my new friends also expe­ri­enced: PhD rejec­tions… from every­where. It was a hard cou­ple of months of reeval­u­at­ing self “truths.” I decided to con­tinue to pur­sue my pas­sions in a slightly dif­fer­ent (and slightly more expen­sive) way:

fat girl syndrome

I appre­ci­ate when my sis­ter stands up for me when men tell me in some form that I’m too fat to love. “What an ass­hole!” she says. “He doesn’t deserve you! You’re beau­ti­ful!” I know she means it, and I know she wants me to agree. But she sim­ply can­not under­stand. Every time I hear the

pencil marks from the last few months

When I made this web­site, I was still liv­ing in New York, and I was still liv­ing in a state of mind that I can’t access now any more eas­ily than I can access the Brook­lyn Bridge. Tech­nol­ogy was my life. I checked Twit­ter every 15 min­utes from any­where I was via iPhone. A day

the idiot gap

There’s noth­ing like try­ing to cre­ate some­thing new to remind you of just how much you don’t know.  As I’m googling html help for my web­site, I’m reminded of fresh­man year Chem­istry.  I remem­ber reli­giously attend­ing office hours, really hop­ing to under­stand, and really fail­ing at that.  My knowl­edge wasn’t enough that I could even