“I’ll do 10 minutes of writing every day,” I promised. Except I haven’t. And I know why. My ghosts wait for me in my notebook. My writing revisits the past. Takes it apart, re-assembles. Tilts it–left, right, up, down–to reveal previously ignored angles. It digs in the scraps of my psyche for new lessons from … [Read more…]
You don’t realize how much time you spend talking about dating until you’re not dating. When you lock boxes of memories and store them in the back of your closets, ready to get on with life. When there is no associate with whom you exchange the occasional flirtatious quip. When your former “possibles” are settling … [Read more…]
Confession: I’m a recovering Type A personality. If you’ve followed me for the last six years, you know me as an “I do what I want, when I feel like it and I don’t have goals” person. My resistance to goals and a framework for my existence is the result of my mental and emotional … [Read more…]
Scene: 6:50 A.M. On my way to work, I walk to my car and am confused when my key doesn’t immediately work. I jiggle the handle, the door opens, and I get in; figuring the frigid temperatures have somehow manipulated the lock. But my car smells like Black & Mild cigars. Why does my car … [Read more…]
Nine years ago, I died. Twenty-four years old. In a university office. With a nice job title. Six packets of off-brand Asprin on my desk. A montage of my favorite Facebook photos on loop in my head and guesses on which one they’d use on my funeral program. Frank Sinatra’s “I Did It My Way” … [Read more…]