My well-read, overachiever lady friend spends a good portion of our evenings and weekends psychoanalyzing our belly-driven, rescue dog.
My answer to most of her theories? I don’t know.
At work, I encounter all sorts of debates—can a twitter post sell a twenty-thousand-dollar business management solution?
My answer to most of these questions? I don’t know.
And then there’s the unavoidable political discussion that’s found its way into practically every facet of our American existence these days.
How can a wealthy New York turd like Trump be our president? I have a few thoughts, but ultimately I just don’t know.
Living and working in a world of sales pitches and explanation marks, signs of uncertainty are certain death among the judgmental masses.
Why does indecision feel like a liability these days? To be honest, I just don’t know.
Opposite Day 