I was going to send my parents a late-night and slightly wine induced yet genuine email about this, but now, in the sober light of day, I think I’ll share it with the entire internet, instead. First off, these are my parents. Here’s my Dad in China, doing some charitable business work of some kind:

And here’s my Mom, doing her own sort of charitable business work, in which she DROVE ME from North Carolina all the way up to Brooklyn after a snowstorm cancelled all flights.

Conversation with two friends last night turned to parents.  They said their parents were less than stoked about what they’d chosen to do with their lives (acting, writing.)  It got me thinking: I am so, so lucky. I have parents who have always believed in me and have never wanted me to do anything but write. They paid for my college. In grad school, they helped me pay rent so that I could make lattes for Ethan Hawke only PART time and write plenty of ten minute plays about siamese twins. Post- grad school they’ve showered me with faith, support, and strange ideas for screenplays. Currently, my Dad allows me to call him at all hours and force him to explain to me, really explain to me, what fracking is, and my Mom tells me everyday, be it via text or email or phone, that she loves me. She also engages in long email chains about whether it’s better to have a brown or black purse, and sends me pictures of fruit I like. In summation, THANK YOU PARENTS! Someday, somehow, I’ll make it up to you.