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Alisa sings the brain electric
"You can come to a place in your life where you run out of resilience because you're in such an adversarial relationship with your body. And so it's about how to recast and reframe and re-narrativize a body that loves you, a body that can speak to you and say, "This one thing that's here is a part of you, and it's pushing you to be the person you were meant to be."
-Alisa Kennedy Jones, tv writer, author, publisher
Alisa is one smart, witty, electrifying cookie. I started reading her two columns The Empress and Gotham Girl early last year and learned very quickly to not have liquids nearby while reading. She is a one woman, laugh-out-loud, tragicomedy act and infuses her work with infectious, tinkering curiosity, humility and self-compassion that might just be the #1 super-smoothie to getting through life with sanity intact.
After developing epilepsy during peri-menopause—the first in a series of grand mal seizures that she likens to "swallowing a bolt of lightening"—Alisa was forced to use her powers of reimagining to develop a more expansive, empowering perspective from the frontlines of a brain that derails, and often detonates, her life's plans. From ground zero, instead of falling prey to despair, over-and-over-again, Alisa brushes herself off and uses her experiences to get honest and "get bigger"—sharing her voice, advocating for women's rights and healthcare, challenging the Hollywood narrative to portray more realistic stories of neurodivergence, and championing women in midlife to embrace "the messy middle—a highly generative, creative time—one in which we can source real agency in our aging."
In her deeply engaging and heartfelt book Gotham Girl: Interrupted, Alisa writes that auras feel like "someone reaches into her brain and kneads it with stars" and post-seizure she's supercharged with creative euphoria, so it was a delight to gaze upon her 13 trillion synaptic connections where multiple reconstructive facial surgeries, being trapped inside a Van Gogh painting, mothering herself through uncertainty, mothering her daughters through trauma, and refusing submission in a largely male-dominated industry are all fodder for living a wild and wonderful life.
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By Unfixed
4.9
5353 ratings
"You can come to a place in your life where you run out of resilience because you're in such an adversarial relationship with your body. And so it's about how to recast and reframe and re-narrativize a body that loves you, a body that can speak to you and say, "This one thing that's here is a part of you, and it's pushing you to be the person you were meant to be."
-Alisa Kennedy Jones, tv writer, author, publisher
Alisa is one smart, witty, electrifying cookie. I started reading her two columns The Empress and Gotham Girl early last year and learned very quickly to not have liquids nearby while reading. She is a one woman, laugh-out-loud, tragicomedy act and infuses her work with infectious, tinkering curiosity, humility and self-compassion that might just be the #1 super-smoothie to getting through life with sanity intact.
After developing epilepsy during peri-menopause—the first in a series of grand mal seizures that she likens to "swallowing a bolt of lightening"—Alisa was forced to use her powers of reimagining to develop a more expansive, empowering perspective from the frontlines of a brain that derails, and often detonates, her life's plans. From ground zero, instead of falling prey to despair, over-and-over-again, Alisa brushes herself off and uses her experiences to get honest and "get bigger"—sharing her voice, advocating for women's rights and healthcare, challenging the Hollywood narrative to portray more realistic stories of neurodivergence, and championing women in midlife to embrace "the messy middle—a highly generative, creative time—one in which we can source real agency in our aging."
In her deeply engaging and heartfelt book Gotham Girl: Interrupted, Alisa writes that auras feel like "someone reaches into her brain and kneads it with stars" and post-seizure she's supercharged with creative euphoria, so it was a delight to gaze upon her 13 trillion synaptic connections where multiple reconstructive facial surgeries, being trapped inside a Van Gogh painting, mothering herself through uncertainty, mothering her daughters through trauma, and refusing submission in a largely male-dominated industry are all fodder for living a wild and wonderful life.