GTFO: The Importance of Self-Care

What a trash week to be alive. Everything is on fire and everything is terrible. (My therapist really wanted me to emphasize that everything isn’t terrible and I should try to find things that make me happy but it’s my party and Imma whine because I’m a water sign. We love that sh*t.) Aside from…

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This Town

I’ve mentioned this before but I’m married. Happily 90% of the time. The other 10% of the time I am actively trying to figure out how to murder him and get away with it. (I’ve been reassured by people who have been married for decades that this is normal.) Every marriage is different. Every time…

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Rachel Goes to Camp

I’ve gone to a lot of camps in my life. In middle school, I went to science camp. It’s about as fun as it sounds. In high school, I went to a Christian-focused YMCA camp. And that was a lot wilder than it should’ve been. I also went to a Volleyball camp every summer because…

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Baggage

At first, this post was going to be called “Rachel Goes to Camp” and talk about Barrington Stage Company, the workshop process, meeting a ton of the cool people and how fleeting it all is. But with a play called Well-Intentioned White People, I’ve found myself talking about race A LOT. To strangers, to friends,…

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High Hopes

I’ve been told by many a hipster that I have bad taste in music. Instead of listening to the Mountain Goats, I’d rather listen to Taylor Swift, post-Red album. And I like Panic! at the Disco so much that I wrote a jukebox musical using only their songs. I was in Florida when I heard…

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Trippin’ 1000 Miles High

CW: mental health, depression When I was thirteen, I was diagnosed with depression. When I was fifteen, I was diagnosed with major depression. When I was eighteen, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia and then immediately went to another therapist because that was definitely off. At twenty, I was diagnosed with bipolar 1. I’ve seen over…

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Call Me (Later) Maybe

The first time someone told me they felt “called” to playwriting, the Catholic snob in me quietly snickered. To me, you could only be called to an act of service and at the time I thought writing couldn’t possibly be an act of service because it was so narcissistic.  Writing was about self-gratification and controlling…

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Rejection & Wanderlust

I’m lucky enough to live in a city where I could drive at most thirty minutes in any direction and end up in the woods or at a body of water but usually almost always both. This usually makes me feel better when I’ve had a really rough period in playwriting.   When I found…

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