Excerpts from the Diary of a Diva

I tend to think of myself as skilled. I may not be domesticated in the traditional ways of Southern women, but I know how to navigate most situations. However, this year I find myself at a loss. My uncle is gone. Even though I didn't see him or even talk to him on a regular basis, I could always count on hearing from him for the holidays and my birthday. This year will be the first time without him. I am completely broken up about it. All I can hear is his wife saying, "He's gone," when she went to check on him. I feel like the whole world shifted on its axis after that statement. I don't know how to do this -- live in a world without him. He's literally been there since I was born. When I went on my ill-fated quest to find myself a father, he was the first one I asked. He was the one I wanted to follow everywhere. It was him who set the standard -- good or bad -- for the men in my life. If a man couldn't be as cool as my uncle, I didn't want to be bot...

I love reading the "Modern Love" section in The New York Times. There's one long essay every wee and  a column for Tiny Love Stories. I don't get to them as often as I'd like, but when I find the time, I bing on them. Although I find the stories inspiring, I usually spend the majority of my reading time either fighting tears or drying my eyes. One might ask why I continue to read them when I react that way. After all, subjecting myself to such unnecessary pain seems pointless.  For one, the writing is superb. Even though the content makes me cry, I can't deny the wordsmithery used in telling the stories. Another reason I keep reading is that I need to see that love IS possible. Although it has yet to find me, I see that it can exist for others. You know what's even worse that reading love stories? Watching them play out in the real lives of the high school students I teach. I've given out more relationship advice than I ever thought I would to teenager...