Lizzy Rodríguez

By Lizzy Rodriguez Scrolling through Facebook, I stopped when I saw the word "autistic" and the image I'm sharing below with that headline. It gave me... let's say, rage. Let me quote the article so you know exactly what I'm talking about: "A MOTHER'S SILENT BATTLE! 'I started crying like crazy' Luz Elena González breaks her silence and opens her heart talking about her son Santiago's AUTISM and mild cognitive disability diagnosis 💙😭✨🙏" The TV host revealed that receiving the news was devastating and described it without filters: "It's a shock because it's a loss. It's the loss of your dreams, it's the loss of your expectations." After eight years without clear answers, the confirmation hit like a bucket of ice water. "It was like someone dumped a bucket of cold water on me. I started crying like crazy, I calmed down and said 'let's move forward,'" she said emotionally. She ev...

There are moments in literary history that should be taught in schools. Not because they're deep—but because they're epically mischievous. One of them happened in 1985, when a scrawny 21-year-old from Bennington College, hungover and wearing a turtleneck, sat down across from Tina Brown—the editor of Vanity Fair—and took an assignment that would change his life. Just not the way she expected. We're talking, of course, about Bret Easton Ellis. And the time he and actor Judd Nelson sold one of the most powerful magazines in the world an article about the "coolest" spots in L.A. that turned out to be the lamest places they could dig up. Let's set the scene: Ellis was 21, had just published Less Than Zero, and was already being called "the voice of a generation." Tina Brown summoned him to the Algonquin Hotel, hit him with that laser-beam stare she had (his words, not mine), and asked for a profile of Judd Nelson—who she found, in her words, ...

Yesterday, February 23, 2026, the death of Robert Carradine was confirmed. To many, he was "Lizzie McGuire's dad." To those who followed him, he was an actor with decades of a career. To his family, he was a human being going through a fierce internal battle: bipolar disorder. And he died by suicide. I'm not going to speculate about his case. I didn't know him. But I am going to talk about bipolar disorder, because as a psychology student and as a neurodivergent person, I know that clear information saves lives. Or at least, it prevents us from continuing to repeat the same things. It's not "being in a bad mood" or "mood swings" Bipolar disorder isn't about being sad one day and happy the next. It's not an "intense" or "artistic" personality. It's a serious mental health condition, with a biological basis, that affects mood regulation in a profound and often devastating way. Those living with bipo...

I have children. I have nieces and nephews. And I have memory. I remember being a little girl who was told that if I didn't study, I would be nobody. I remember growing up hearing more orders than hugs. I remember looking at the adults around me and feeling like they didn't see me. Today I study psychology. Not to become somebody. I am already somebody. I study because I love it, because I want to understand, because I want to help. And when I think about children — all children — I think about that: about them being seen. About them not growing up feeling invisible. About them having the right to be heard, protected, cared for. There are children who suffer in silence. There are children who stay quiet because no one ever asked. There are children who learn too soon that the world is not a safe place. I can't change everything. But I can do something. I can write. I can raise my voice. I can study to understand better. I can, when the time comes, reach out my h...

Tengo hijos. Tengo sobrinos. Y tengo memoria. Recuerdo ser una niña a la que le decían que si no estudiaba no sería nadie. Recuerdo haber crecido escuchando más órdenes que abrazos. Recuerdo mirar a los adultos y sentir que no me veían. Hoy estudio psicología. No para ser alguien. Ya soy alguien. Estudio porque me gusta, porque quiero entender, porque quiero ayudar. Y cuando pienso en los niños —todos los niños— pienso en eso: en que los vean. En que no crezcan sintiéndose invisibles. En que tengan derecho a ser escuchados, protegidos, cuidados. Hay niños que sufren en silencio. Hay niños que callan porque nadie les preguntó. Hay niños que aprenden demasiado pronto que el mundo no es un lugar seguro. No puedo cambiarlo todo. Pero puedo hacer algo. Puedo escribir. Puedo alzar la voz. Puedo estudiar para entender mejor. Puedo, cuando sea el momento, tender la mano. A veces me preguntan: "¿Por qué te importa tanto? Si tienes hijos propios, ¿no basta con ocuparte de ellos?...

I used to enjoy going downtown. Walking, looking, getting lost among the people. But today it wasn't the same. It was hot. Hotter than before. Or maybe it's me, I can't tolerate it as well as I used to. People overwhelmed me more than I remember. Bodies passing by, voices crossing paths, fragments of conversations I didn't ask to hear. And there I was, in the middle of it all, feeling like it didn't make sense. That we were all going somewhere with faces that, at that moment, were just faces to me. But no. Faces that I perceive as faceless. And yet, I couldn't help doing what I always do. What I've done since I was a child, long before I knew why I looked at the world that way. I started to observe them. To imagine. To write about them in my head. That woman talking on the phone as she walks quickly, frowning. Is she arguing with her partner? Or is it work? Or maybe she just got some news and needs to tell someone right away, even if she's wa...

   Conversación sobre legados y la arquitectura invisible del cine Por Lizzy Rodríguez Febrero 2026 La primera vez que hablé con Peter Iacangelo III no sabía que estaba hablando con el hijo de Lou, ese actor de rostro inolvidable que aparecía en  Fight Club  y en mil comedias de los 90. Tampoco sabía que estaba hablando con un Power Ranger, aunque eso, creo, es algo que uno debería saber siempre. Pero Peter no es de esos que sueltan su currículum en la primera conversación. Peter es de los que preguntan primero, de los que escuchan, de los que esperan. Cuando uno conoce a un stuntman de Hollywood, espera encontrarse con otra cosa. Con el físico, sí, eso está: el hombre tiene la estructura de alguien que ha pasado décadas lanzándose por escaleras y recibiendo golpes con gracia y técnica dignas de admiracion. Pero luego está la mirada. Hay algo en la forma en que Peter te sostiene la conversación, en cómo responde sin prisas y con una so...

  Peter Iacangelo III: The Man Who Builds Dreams from the Shadows A conversation about legacies, fists, and the invisible architecture of cinema   By Lizzy Rodríguez February 2026       The first time I talked to Peter Iacangelo III, I didn't know I was talking to Lou's son—that actor with the unforgettable face who showed up in Fight Club and a thousand 90s sitcoms. I also didn't know I was talking to a Power Ranger, although that, I think, is something a person should always know. But Peter isn't the type to drop his resume in the first conversation. Peter's the type who asks first, who listens, who waits.                                     Peter Iacangelo II ( August 13, 1948 – November 17, 2021).  Charisma embodied   When you meet a Hollywood stuntman, you expect something else. The physique, yeah, that's there: the guy has the build of someone who's spent de...

Loving a Earthling when you're an alien My husband is my home on this planet. He's the first person who looked at this alien chick and didn't ask for an instruction manual. He just opened the door and said, "Come in." He swears he's never thought I was "weird." And in the language of love, he's telling the truth. In his emotional dictionary, "Lizzy" is a proper noun that means partner, love, connection. It's not an adjective that gets modified with "weird" or "normal." But there are moments when our native languages clash. I speak the language of Filing and Analysis. When I'm telling him about my fifth time reading American Psycho — about the seams of unreliable narration, about satire used as a scalpel, about that razor-thin line between the monster's delusion and the reality of the system that created him — my words make perfect sense to me. It's like a technical report on something I fi...

The diagnostic evaluation was nothing like I imagined. There was no brain scan, no obvious questions like "Do you like puzzles?" Instead, it was this weird, super thorough, sometimes annoyingly repetitive conversation. The psychologist—this woman with a calm smile—was giving me multiple-choice questions. But every now and then, my internal pattern-detector would go off. "Wait," I interrupted, unable to let the inconsistency slide. "You already asked me that. Like, twenty minutes ago. Number fifteen." She just nodded, still with that same mysterious smile, and waited. "Okay, well, my answer's the same," I said, a little annoyed by the apparent inefficiency of it all. Click. I mentally filed away the weirdness. Why would a professional do something as illogical as repeating questions? It wasn't until months later, when I had the report in my hands, that I understood the twisted genius of that test. They weren't just evaluati...

NARRATIVE ELEMENTS: The God Game Where You Call the Shots FORGET THE "PILLARS" — THIS IS PRACTICAL MAGIC They're not "foundations" — they're your tools for playing God. With characters, plot, and setting, you're creating parallel universes where you decide the rules. CHARACTERS: Your Allies and Victims The Uncomfortable Truth: Your characters aren't creations — they're parts of you that come alive on their own. That villain you wrote carries your darkness. That hero carries your light. Don't build characters — discover them: · What hidden wound dictates their choices? · What lie do they tell themselves every morning? · What would they be willing to kill — or die — to protect? Forbidden exercise: Take your "most perfect" character and give them a secret vice, an irrational fear, a weakness that humanizes them. PLOT: The Heartbeat of Your Story Forget that "skeleton" bullshit. Plot is your story's heartbeat. ...

A modern habit with deep roots in our psychology. You probably know someone who falls asleep listening to a podcast, a YouTube documentary, or their favorite show on repeat. Maybe you do it yourself. My 20-year-old daughter drifts off to the voice of a YouTuber who summarizes movies. I, at 43, need writer Bret Easton Ellis’s interviews. The reason seems simple: "His voice relaxes me." But behind this everyday habit lies a fascinating psychological trick we all use, almost without realizing it. The Grown-Up’s Audio Security Blanket Remember your favorite childhood blanket or stuffed animal? That thing that gave you immense comfort, that was more than just fabric or plastic. Pediatrician and psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott called it a "transitional object" – a bridge between a child's inner world (where they feel all-powerful) and the real outside world. What’s interesting is that we never really stop needing those bridges. We just don’t carry teddy bea...