It was 2001 and as was the case with nearly every weekday morning, I was likely watching “The Golden Girls” before heading off to class. I imagine that the moments before the emergency broadcast broke through Blanche’s southern drawl and all the canned laughter, I was pacing around my dusty studio apartment in a Victoria’s… Continue reading Maybe…just, maybe.
Tag: writing
The Inner-est Crowd.
I’ve found it interesting that every corner of the universe has a cool girl quota. There’s no space that’s so chill, so intrinsically meditative that there is not a clique of some kind that forms- the “in crowd” and the “others.” Now, these groups certainly take on different forms and functions. Some are larger and… Continue reading The Inner-est Crowd.
Baby Games.
I pull a greasy strand of hair loose from my bun and twirl it around my finger. With every twist, I feel the sting of the cuticle I picked bloody earlier. I swipe up, closing the app, and then open it again. Nothing. The meme is funny, I think. I want to write again, to… Continue reading Baby Games.
Some kind of magic.
I had the opportunity to visit Sequoia National Park, Kings Canyon National Park, and Yosemite National Park this past week. I'm not sure if opportunity is the correct word here. Perhaps privilege is better. Or honor. Or delight. It was absolutely a thing of magic. I’ve been really caught up in everything lately. I’ve been… Continue reading Some kind of magic.
Treacherous Honesty.
This morning, I was chatting with my cousin, and I shared that I’m deeply obsessed with and captivated by the way that moisture sits on grass, flowers and leaves. I acknowledged the weirdness of this sentiment, and he responded by telling me that he is obsessed by the way bodies of water ripple (he’s on… Continue reading Treacherous Honesty.
The Taper.
Nearly two weeks ago I began tapering for a big race. I’ve tapered for races before, though none that I’ve prepared for as thoroughly and none this significant. If you don’t know what a taper is, it is when you reduce your intensity and volume prior to a race. Stated basically, you run less and… Continue reading The Taper.
Big dreams. Dream big.
I started to write something very specific for this week. I was going to write a little more about grief. And then, I was going to write about some of the bat sh*t stuff that’s been going on around these parts. And then, yesterday happened. And it was so magical that I don’t want to… Continue reading Big dreams. Dream big.
The After-Middle.
It’s no surprise that I’m an anxious adult because anyone who knows me well knows that I started out as an anxious kid. Not the kind of anxiety that stopped me from doing things or participating in life. Not debilitating anxiety. Just the kind of anxiety that led to tears and reservation, hand wringing and… Continue reading The After-Middle.
Rage Dancer.
When I close my eyes lately, I find myself imagining the shapes my rage has taken inside of me. Sometimes it’s a small, burning ember, like the last remnants of a stick of incense or a campfire long after everyone has retired to their tents. Then, other times, it’s a fiery ball- bright red and… Continue reading Rage Dancer.
Just because…
Michael J. Fox was quoted as saying something that seems so common sense for me that it’s almost absurd, as follows: “Family is not an important thing, it’s everything.” This sentiment is an easy one for me. I know that you may remind me that not everyone has a family and to that end, not… Continue reading Just because…
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