ESSAYS
Here’s What It’s Like to Go Camping with Shailene Woodley
The camp chairs are set up. A cracked clipboard rests under my arm. I’m stuffed into my mom jeans. It’s showtime.
June gloom blankets Encinal Canyon in a lush mist. I could be in Narnia instead of Malibu, but I barely notice. My body stands in front of a marooned Airstream, waiting. But my mind is back home, wondering if my 14-month-old is napping as I review the research on my clipboard. Tonight I’ll camp in this patch of Eden with Shailene Woodley, the 33-year-old actor and environmentalist known for her lead roles in… READ MORE
(Outside Magazine)
How I Survived a Wedding in a Jungle That Tried to Eat Me Alive
Nothing says “I do” like a small blood sacrifice
I lie half naked and miserable in a puddle of my own sweat. I open the tent flap to breathe but there’s no relief, even at midnight. Who comes to the Guatemalan jungle in July? Yesterday’s hike was rough, but the 15 miles today were raw pain. The mosquitoes were so vicious that… READ MORE
(The Guardian) Brittney Griner told me her fear of being alone and forgotten. Don’t let it come true
Given the US state department’s reclassification of the basketball star as ‘wrongfully detained’ – the moment to speak out is now…. READ MORE
(Narratively)
How I Wrote Myself into a Real-life Romantic Comedy – That Turned into a Survivalist Thriller
As a filmmaker, I thought I could write the screenplay for my own love life. When I got lost in a hailstorm at 12,000 feet, searching for my ex, I realized I desperately needed a new ending. READ MORE
(The New York Times)
On Skis, Sharpening a Relationship with Risk
I know what I’ve become. The vegan restaurant answers my calls with, “Chakra roll again, Melissa?” The only action my Patagonia jacket gets is walking to Equinox. I pay $14 for a vodka/soda. It has been seven years since I moved to Manhattan from a mountain hiking town of 7,537 people in California. I can’t remember the last time I dug a hole to poop in. I’ve gone city soft. But the trowel will rise again. READ MORE
(Salon)
The Tallest Woman in the Room Tells All
On the basketball court, being 6-foot-4 is incredible. In the world of dating, however, it’s more complicated.
In high school my teammates and I teased our 5-foot-11 basketball coach about the shorter, handsome, rival coach who openly flirted with her during halftime. "Hey, we're all the same height lying down," she would reply, a line that sent us shrieking. Thus, my first lessons in love: A) When you're a tall girl, people are going to have an opinion about the appropriate height of your man; and B) Get over it. READ MORE
(The Guardian)
The Coach Who Taught Me How To Live Up To Your Heroes By Failing Them
Winning is a meat grinder into which many college basketball coaches feed their players. That sounds terrible but I get it. For a long time, winning was my drug of choice. As a player I’d gladly sacrifice myself for a W – until the sacrifices became too real and too sad. Although I’ve won… READ MORE
(The Rumpus)
The Three-Month Curse
I’m not in the habit of arguing with clairvoyants, but today I’m fed up.
“Don’t sugarcoat it,” I say. It’s already October 7th.
“Uranus is on top of your natal Chiron right now,” she soothes, “a powerful aspect for healing old wounds…if you’re open to radical change.”
I roll my eyes. She can’t see me over the phone. I imagine her crouched over my star chart, rings heavy on every finger. I can almost smell the mugwort.
“If things aren’t going to change, do the kind thing,” I insist, exposing my throat chakra to her ceremonial dagger. “Euthanize my hope.” READ MORE
(The New York Times)
First Step in Becoming a Winner: Act Like One
On March 14, 1998, I sat in a dark hotel room with both hands over my mouth to prevent my yelps from waking my teammate in the next bed.
A 6-foot-4 sophomore center at North Carolina, I was transfixed by the N.C.A.A. tournament game lighting up before me, a game that would persuade me to give up my full scholarship, million-dollar locker room, teammates who could dunk and fancy Nike luggage.
Sixteenth-seeded Harvard, a bunch of basketball nobodies, was battling top-ranked Stanford at raucous Maples Pavilion — and winning. READ MORE
(GOOD Magazine)
Dear 17-Year-Old Me…
Dear 17-year-old-Melissa,
It’s me! (I mean you.) Does this letter find you fluffing your permed-up, double-decker bangs with one hand and eating a spoonful of chunky peanut butter topped with Gushers with the other? I hope so. Oh us.
It’s 20 years later. I live in Los Angeles now but I’m back in Syracuse visiting Mom for the holidays. She’s selling the house and said, “All I want for Christmas is for you to please God finally get your crap out of the basement.” It was going okay until I found this box, almost too heavy to move. READ MORE