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Check on your empaths, we are not OK

There’s a short animation video that’s gone viral lately, titled “The Life of an Empath.” In it, we see an all-white figure as he goes about his day, encountering others who are experiencing some sort of trauma. All of these people have a portion of their bodies colored black — a darkness that is absorbed by the empath as he comforts them. By the end of his journey, each of the people left behind feels better, but the empath returns home filled entirely in ebony. That is, until he hugs his dog, and the gloom falls from them both. Start to finish, it runs only ...

Movie plans means reunion with some old (pretend) friends

Movie plans means reunion with some old (pretend) friends For a lady with no social life, I have a wide array of friends. There are my baking friends and my makeover friends. My tattoo artist friends and my forensics expert friends. My flea market-flipping friends and my politician friends. My friends who debunk Scientology and the ones who solve cold cases. My buddies who bust internet catfish and my pals who are stuck in maximum security prison. And, of course, my vaguely royal, very classy friends, who own a lovely home in the English countryside staffed by a bevy ...

Podcasts make exercise tolerable

As you may recall from a couple weeks ago, I’m deep in the middle of weight-loss hell. A full month of ingesting what feels like next to nothing, pretending as though various forms of plant life pass as satisfying snacks. Tomatoes instead of crackers, salads minus croutons, bulking up every conceivable dinner dish with about 60 pounds of mushrooms. Nary a breakfast bread in sight. Unfortunately, my middle-aged body doesn’t respond to sheer deprivation the way it used to, and the stupid needle on the scale has been stubbornly clinging to the same number for about a ...

My newest frenemy is a weight-loss app

I am so hungry. Normally, I wouldn’t begin a column — or any piece of writing, really — by simply logging on and typing my current state. No readable memoir ever began with something so banal as “I am sad. Now read my stuff.” But I’m on deadline, and I just had a cup of blueberries for lunch — my whole lunch — so it’s pretty much all I can come up with at the moment. And while, yes, it would be fair to point to a lack of imagination on my part, I’m choosing instead to place the blame in the same spot I’ve placed it for every negative emotion ...

There’s a new frenemy in town

Katie McDowell I am so hungry. Normally, I wouldn’t begin a column — or any piece of writing, really — by simply logging on and typing my current state. But I’m on deadline, and I just had a cup of blueberries for lunch — my whole lunch — so it’s pretty much all I can come up with at the moment. No readable memoir ever began with something so banal as “I am sad. Now read my stuff.” And while, yes, it would be fair to point to a lack of imagination on my part, I’m choosing instead to place the blame in the same spot I’ve placed it for every negative ...

‘You couldn’t watch it, the dog dies’

It’s no secret that I love murder shows and horror movies. Ever since I was old enough to appreciate a good story, I’ve been drawn to the drama of human suffering. Sad documentaries, slasher films, true crime podcasts, books with a dead body in chapter 1 — whatever the medium, if people are devastated in it, I’m down. But do not, under any circumstances, expect me to watch/read/listen to anything where an animal is harmed. And definitely not if one dies. This rule goes back even further than my preoccupation with human hardship. I remember as a child my ...