December 8, 1972
I'm constantly maxing out my Gmail account, and that is hard to do.
I am not an 'unplug' person. I like being plugged in.
I've gone out on limbs, flung far, and Forrest-Gumped my way into the center of the action.
I am attached to my Blackberry. Sometimes, when I'm holding it, my other hand goes to my pocket automatically in search of it.
We live in a world now where everything is tweeted and Instagrammed and tagged and now, God help us, Vined. Calling out grievances over Twitter has become an industry norm.
I didn't go to law school to become a lawyer, per se - let's just say I was leaning in to some strong suggestions from my parents - but my nebulous goals of someday becoming a writer were just that, nebulous.
What I do want is to be transparent about where I am and how I got here. I don't like the cone of silence - it didn't do me any favors in my 20s or 30s, and I don't see it doing much for other women, either.
I'm Jewish, but not overly religious, and have certainly never formally observed the Fourth Commandment, other than via the tradition of wearing white on Friday nights at summer camp, which never seemed to dovetail with the fact that Fridays were also the night for grape juice.