Ow.

Hey, it happens to everyone, right?

And they said it wouldn't last ...

“Stick figures? On a blog? Listen kid, Stick figures went out 
with silent movies.”

“These so-called ‘Sticks’ are merely the ravings of a mind polluted with 
liberal, democratic nonsense.”

“This blog of yours is destined to go the way of the dodo. And pogs.”

“Won’t someone think of the children?”

Those are just a few of the comments no one made two years ago today when I began this blog. But I didn’t let those few imaginary naysayers kill my dream of producing a blog—one with an almost embarrassingly exclusive readership—that featured Stick figures occasionally having sex.


Oh there were ups and downs. Lost erasers, dried-out markers—sex when absolutely nothing hilarious happened. But I got back up, purchased new erasers, borrowed (but mostly stole) felt-tipped pens, had sex over and over again until something amusing, embarrassing, or otherwise noteworthy occurred. And my persistence paid off. (Just not literally.)


Thanks to you my small, addled following. And any new readers I might pick up (again, not literally) along the way. 

Celebrity Crush-Watch

Peter Sagal

Host, Wait Wait ... Don't Tell Me!

Author, The Book of Vice: Very Naughty Things 

(and How to Do Them)

Marathoner

Triathlete

Nice Guy Who Responds to Twits Tweets

Recent Crime Victim!

"Your success emasculates me."

That's what my husband said to me once during the waning days of our marriage. He was going through a rough time with his career and I was having loads of success.

My initial response was to feel guilty. As a kid, I'd been taught not to trumpet my academic success because it made my sister—a poor student—feel sad. So it was hard-wired in me from an early age to have mixed feelings about doing well.

Feel happy and proud => realize that my feelings of happiness and pride make someone else suffer => feel shame => feel resentful

But by the time my ex said that to me, I'd been getting my head shrunk long enough to understand how my pattern of thinking got set up and how I could fight it. Guilt was still my initial, knee-jerk reaction—it probably always will be. But a part of me also knew that what he said was pure, unadulterated bullshit.

Last week I attempted something that was very challenging—and I succeeded in a way that was far greater than I had anticipated. I wanted to share that with the people I love, and I did. That old feeling of "keep it to yourself; downplay it or people will get mad at you" keeps popping up, but I keep fighting it.

I hate having to struggle with stuff that I feel sure other people don't even give a second thought to. But I also realize that figuring out all of this shit is turning me into someone I understand, am compassionate toward, and really like.