Yesterday I threw a Pie Party. This is my favorite kind of party to throw, which I discovered my junior year of college, when I threw my FIRST party (pictured). It's a good kind of party because 1) Pie is the best food there is. Pie joins together delicious crusty bread-part with fruit or chocolate or kale or vegetables or WHATEVER, and they get married in your MOUTH. And 2) If everyone brings a pie, I can easily actualize my life dream of having one pie where every slice is a different kind of filling. Then you can EAT THAT PIE. 

But when you look at all the things you want in life -- to be successful, to experience beauty, to have a family -- you may put those things up on the top of a hill like this one, and you may ask how you reach them. The thing is that taking the path means wrapping your arms around fear. It means inviting fear into bed with you, putting your head on his shoulder, and sleeping with him night after night after night.

The reason, of course, is that I have been terrified of failure. If I failed at teaching (which is what I have been doing for the past six years), I would just be failing at teaching. That would be OK, because I never really wanted to be a teacher.  If I failed at writing, I would be failing at writing: the only real thing I ever wanted to actually do.