All the women in my life have really made my life what it is, and I feel so fortunate, so whole because of them.

I've sorta learned that I'm so tired of taking myself so seriously. It's so great to show up at work and truly enjoy every word you say.

Very little makes me feel vulnerable these days. I hit my absolute apex of vulnerability when I returned to my home state of Louisiana, during the Gulf oil spill disaster, and witnessed mass devastation to every demonstration of life surrounding me - from grass, trees, bayous, insects, to animals and people - we all felt demolished.

The bureaucracies that are in place now, they're not going to change, they're not going to stop.

People have amazing ideas. The main problem - I won't call it a problem, let's call it a roadblock - is if you use the analogy of a convoy of vehicles going to help a distress situation: they have all the resources needed (food, medicine, everything they need), and as the convoy is traveling, there's a rockslide. You can't get through the road. What good does any of that stuff do when you can't get it to where it needs to go?

Fracking is our biggest enemy right now in the U.S. Actually, not just in the U.S., because all our water systems are interconnected. Whether you're reading this in New York State or in Japan, fracking is screwing you over.

Growing up in rural Louisiana, the ecosystem around our home wove harmoniously into our family and into our daily life. Every life lesson that trickled its way into my being came from a mutually respectful relationship between the environment and my family.