Welcome to The Weekly Syllabus, a bi-weekly publication of things I’m reading, listening to, and exploring. There’s nothing I love more than learning—especially about things I previously knew absolutely nothing about. Actually, I should correct myself: the only thing I love more than learning is sharing what I’m learning.
As a serial reader, devoted listener, and chronic buyer of cute (mostly local, occasionally not-so-local) things, this is my space for adult show-and-tell.
As a late master’s degree earner (shoutout to going back in my 30s), I loved school—but especially the syllabus. A few sheets of paper naming all the brilliant things we’d read and discuss for an entire semester? Something I could return to anytime for more information (read: last week, a couple years post-grad)? Absolutely. Glorious.
In the spirit of not creating so many self-imposed rules that I inevitably rebel against, these posts will sometimes follow a theme and sometimes not—depending entirely on my mood and curiosity that week. Expect 5–10 items, always for all subscribers. Down the line, some more personal writing or community events may live behind a paywall, but this space is for everyone.
I am the opposite of a gatekeeper—more like someone who swung the gate wide open and possibly forgot to shut it.
Okay. Here goes.
Reading: The Forgetters (Books 1–6) by Dave Eggers
Dave Eggers has long been one of my favorite authors. This fall, he visited my local library for an “In Conversation With” event, and he was exactly who you’d hope: authentic, funny, a little squirrely, deeply social justice–minded, and a wholehearted advocate for creativity. At the end of the evening, he invited the entire audience to stay and write postcards encouraging librarians. As you can imagine, my fandom only deepened.
That conversation sent me back into his catalog, where I discovered a developing novel I hadn’t yet read: The Forgetters. It’s being released chapter by chapter as he finishes it—its own unfolding book. There are currently six installments, available to subscribers through McSweeney’s Internet Tendency.
The story moves between some of my favorite stomping grounds in California and Idaho. Each chapter holds its own setting while softly overlapping with the others—characters brushing past one another in a shared universe.
A favorite line from “The Comebacker,” a scene between a major league baseball player returning to the field and a longtime reporter, hooked me completely:
“The fact that we aren’t digging ditches or mining coal—that I’m paid to play a game and you’re paid to watch a game and tell people what you see—it seems, in a world of sadness and misfortune, to be a thing of great luck. Don’t you think?”
There’s something about reading a novel as it’s being written. Unfinished, emerging, alive—that feels especially right for this season of my own life. A reminder that meaning is often made in installments.
Listening To: George Saunders on The Ezra Klein Show
Another favorite author, seemingly still dancing with death, sin, and the big existential questions he explored in Lincoln in the Bardo. In his newest book, The Vigil, he revisits similar terrain. (I’ve actually started it as an audiobook, so this “listening to” may be a twofer.)
In this episode, Saunders and Ezra Klein explore Catholic notions of sin through the lens of Buddhism, alongside anger, ambition, and power. It’s thoughtful and searching without being self-serious.
As a therapist who gets the privilege of looking closely at others (and myself) around the delusion of power, I’m always struck by how completely human Saunders’ characters are. No one escapes suffering — not even the powerful.
This line stopped me:
“I think what should be becoming clear to us is that if you say power is everything — that if I get that power, I’m safe — that’s completely B.S. There’s not a world where one person could have so much power as to be above suffering. There just isn’t.”
Creating: An upcycled workwear jacket, in case I forget my own name.
This fall, I found the perfect vintage workwear jacket at a local thrift and finally sewed on a custom patch from Fereday with my last name.
A few years ago, during UK travels, a taxi driver casually told me that Bourne means “of the river.” Of all the things to be hiding in plain sight. I’ve loved it ever since.
To my delight, Fereday hails from Bournemouth, UK — a small, serendipitous full circle. They specialize in reworked workwear, including a coat made from old Carhartt coveralls where the sleeves are literally the former pant legs. I immediately wanted to show my dad. I can almost hear him laughing in mild confusion, equal parts “What on earth?” and impressed.
I don’t know what it is about stitching your own name that feels quietly grounding.
Cooking:
Last month we took a quick trip to Eureka Springs — a curious little town made up of crystals, churches, hippie enclaves, coin-dispensing bunnies, haunted hotels, and a suspicious number of motels proudly advertising jacuzzis in every room. One cannot help but be intoxicated by the weird and unexplainable there.
I wandered into a bookshop where the clerk greeted me with, “No phones. No pictures. Cash only.” Immediately upon entry. My kind of place.
That’s where I found Kismet by Sarah Hymanson and Sara Kramer — a cookbook that first caught me with its brightly colored pages and then kept me with its expansive approach to vegetables.
A hill I will gladly die on: salads do not have to be boring, and a plate of vegetables for dinner can be endlessly satisfying.
Lately, I’ve been adding grapes to various salads, and the vinaigrette from the “Little Gems with Grape Leaf Vinaigrette” is so. good.
Grape-Leaf Vinaigrette
1 tablespoon grape leaf powder
3 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons white wine vinegar
1 teaspoon kosher salt
I get a little liberal with my salad and use romaine, baby arugula, green goddess seasoning (I truly believe the key to a good salad is using seasoning on the greens), pistachios, mint leaves, yellow cherry tomatoes, chopped cucumbers and halved grapes.
To Buy:
I’ve been nursing an injury and spending far more time horizontal than my usual rhythm allows — which also means my screen time is wayyyyy higher than I’d like.
So I bought a Brick (for me and my partner) during their Valentine’s Day sale ($30 off!) as a little experiment in screen-time accountability. I’m genuinely curious to see how my brain chemistry shifts for the better — especially in light of the growing research on attention, dopamine, and digital overstimulation.
It’s fascinating (and a little alarming) that we seem to be living through a culture-wide addiction issue that no one is meaningfully addressing at scale.
Anyone else using a Brick? How’s it going for you?
To Join:
I’m teaming up with fellow creative and generally wonderful human Claire from Online to host a Creative Art Journaling Night with the page theme Inner Child.
Think: the mess and fun of journaling, gently woven with therapeutic elements.
If you’re in the Northwest Arkansas area, there are a few spots left to join us.
Bird by bird
Xo
-Your (pretend) unhinged Professor of the River
meg
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