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There is a peculiar confidence that arrives with consensus. Once a winner is announced, something subtle shifts. Conversation tightens. Opinions harden. People begin speaking not about what they experienced, but about what is now established. The work has been named, categorized, filed. This is the moment criticism quietly exits the room. Consensus feels like understanding because
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New Year’s Eve is a magical time. It’s the one night of the year where people who are normally careful, rational, and fully aware of consequences collectively decide:“Tonight? Tonight, the rules are different.” They are not. As a personal injury lawyer, I can tell you that New Year’s Eve is less champagne and confetti and more emergency rooms
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The box of ornaments comes down from the attic with the energy of an aging prizefighter. It knows this is its one bout of the year. It knows you will open it no matter how much dust has accumulated. It knows you will whisper a small prayer that nothing inside has shattered, even though you
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Thanksgiving, at its core, is a holiday built on an ancient and sacred ritual: gathering with the people who know exactly how to push your buttons, then attempting – heroically – to act like your blood pressure isn’t rising like bread dough left too close to the oven. But beneath all the gravy-drenched chaos, there’s
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There are two kinds of leaders in the world:those who float around in a bubble and those who get shoved out a tower window, discover gravity is optional, and decide to rewrite the laws of physics on the way down. If you’ve seen the new Wicked movie, you know exactly which is which. Glinda is the sparkle-tinged
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Seen November 16, featuring the Trisha Paytas casting that broke the internet and possibly the underworld. Broadway has always been a little haunted. Some theatres claim ghosts; others merely host them. But Beetlejuice doesn’t wait for spirits to wander in – it drags them onstage, shoves them under a strobe light, and hands them a mic. On
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A Field Guide for the Recently Injured (and the Perpetually Unlucky) There’s a certain poetry to disaster.One minute you’re cruising down U.S. 19, the next you’re an accidental performance artist in a symphony of airbags and bad decisions. Time slows. Metal folds. Your playlist doesn’t. And before the smoke clears, your phone’s already buzzing –
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(How to Lose Yourself Just Enough to Find the Truth) The courtroom is a stage that denies it’s a stage.The script insists it’s nonfiction.The actors swear under oath. But make no mistake: the trial is theatre – sacred, structured, and dangerous. The bailiff calls “All rise,” and we do, obediently, as though waiting for the
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The night I attended The Book of Mormon was not just another show on Broadway. It was a milestone, a celebration, and a farewell. This particular performance marked the final bows for Cody Jamison Strand, Keziah John-Paul, PJ Adzima, and Lewis Cleale – with Cleale closing an incredible fourteen-year chapter as an original cast member in the role of Joseph Smith
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This production of Waiting for Godot arrived at a moment of personal resonance for me. It is one of my favorite plays. I often write in the absurdist tradition (my piece Funeral of god springs from that same space of uncertainty and strange humor) so I came with both affection and expectation. What I found was a
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Brian Brijbag 