Opening day. All you have to do is say the words and you feel the shutters thrown wide, the room air out, the light pour in. In baseball, no other day is so pure with possibility. No scores yet, no losses, no blame or disappointment. No hangover, at least until the game's over.

Here's a thing about the death of your mother, or anyone else you love: You can't anticipate how you'll feel afterward. People will tell you; a few may be close to right, none exactly right.

The first gay person I ever met was surely not the first gay person I ever met.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Books are like blankets, the mere sight of them around the house provides warmth and comfort. They are like mirrors, too, reflecting places I've been, phases I've been through, people I've loved or thought I did.

Be nice to your siblings. They are your link to the past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.