There are reasons not to fake excitement.

When you know that your parents paid for you, when there is a receipt for both the lawyer and the adoption agency in your family file, when you have seen your own price tag, it’s easy to end up with weird feelings about money.

Even rockets sit on the launch pad for long, long periods before they are shot off into space.

I did not get the reaction I expected from that meme!! Most people were like YUCK!!! THAT SOUNDS LIKE HELL!!

I was just on a call with someone who is writing her memoir, and she keeps doing everything but write directly about herself. It’s like going to an Adele concert, and having Adele hand the microphone to her mother.

I wanted to remember this feeling later in the afternoon when I was busy spreading complaint over everything I touched. So I thought of a game, and then I realized this game could be the way into story. My story. Your story.

What if words such as plot and introduction and linear narrative and transitions and thesis are the language of madmen?

So many adoptees and birth mothers tell me they feel bad about themselves, inherently bad, like—they not only feel bad: they are bad. Rotten. Ruined. They are normal-looking people walking around with a poisoned apple wedged in their belly that eats at their guts, heart and brain.

You have five minutes to see one of the best moments of your life.

I came to Las Vegas because I wanted to see what happened. I wanted to watch a woman cook a meal for friends, acquaintances, and strangers and see how it all went down.

What if when you die, you have to stand in front of a judge, and the judge asks what your point was, what your one argument was, what most of your attention went to in your life. What if the judge told you to start your response, I want to tell you…

I can’t imagine how hard it would be to be the parent of an adopted child. The messages are so mixed. I would just let my kid quit everything, live at home forever.