Sometimes there’s an experience so memorable you want to bottle it up and wear it as perfume. Like Disney hiring me to write on my first TV show or Virgil Abloh complimenting my $29.99 TJ Maxx pants backstage at Coachella.
Other memories cling to you like smoke after a trial by fire. Like discovering my ex was cheating on me at my parents’ anniversary dinner while everyone else celebrated lasting love. Or my mother convincing me to dress like a disco ball for my Sweet 16, then showing up 10x sparklier and hotter than me.
Some memories you choose to wear. Others wear on you. The ones that linger become your greatest hits.
Every year, I speak at my former high school for Writers’ Week. I’m technically there to talk about writing, but I spend most of the hour telling embarrassing stories about my failures: unknowingly telling a studio head that there were “no cute guys” at their premiere, getting 112 hours of community service for traffic tickets, auditioning for The X Factor with my perfectly average singing voice. To name a few.
Last year, a student wrote me a note I’ll never forget: “Thank you for sharing your stories with us today. Although I’ve never done anything as embarrassing as you (no offense), you showed our class that these experiences lead to growth and victory.”
No offense taken.
Failure creates velocity. It thickens your skin, sharpens your wit, and eventually becomes material. I’m also the only daughter and middle child in a Persian family where harsh opinions are delivered as helpful facts like, “You look puffy today.” It takes a little more to break me. But only a little.
Being caught between two brothers, two cultures, and the Millennial–Gen Z divide means growing up with one foot in the room and one in the hallway: close enough to participate, distant enough to notice everything. Maybe that’s why I’ve always had the strange habit of living through something while simultaneously taking notes.
Eventually, those notes become rules.
On That Note is a weekly field guide to life’s most dicey situations: dating, entertaining, friendships, and the general awkwardness of being alive. Oh and weddings because I attend enough of them to qualify as an industry professional. Each week starts with a story. And it will undoubtedly be a little embarrassing.
On that note, I’ll see you next Thursday. x
