You’re a mother, but you want to be a doctor. You’re a chef, but you want to be a hair stylist. You’re a tattoo artist, but you want to be a writer. You’re a student, but you want to be a musician. You’re a musician, but you want to be a student. You’re a this,
Listen, I know it’s terribly unpopular for writers to talk about how they write because everything should be effortless to a reader, but you guys know how I feel about effortless. And so, I’m going to talk about it. Whenever I feel really, truly convicted about something, I want to share it that very moment.
You know, you take one lovely spring walk on a 64 degree day to carpe diem or whatever you want to call it and – boom – you wake up the next morning with swollen eyes and an itch in your throat. Alllllllergiess!!!!!!! Tis the season. Ken and I get crazy allergies every.single.year, and yet,
The greatest thing about living in the Midwest is the affordable travel factor. Save some nickels on a fixer-upper and – boom – you’ve got yourself a cheap home base where you can travel the world, stamp your passport, road trip to Anywhere, then mosey on back home to wash your whites/visit your mother/downward dog
This morning, I read a beautiful passage from an interview with artist Janine Antoni, who once learned to walk a tightrope for the art commission, Touch. She says this: So, I practiced tightrope for about an hour a day, and after about a week, I started to feel like, I’m now getting my balance. And
So, you’ve been unplugging from the Internet and are all caught up on the adventures of Del Griffith, Cousin Eddie, Kevin McCallister and Ralphie Parker? Feeling like a detox from the popcorn, the hot cocoa, the leftover buckeyes? You’ve taken 18 walks around the neighborhood to see the lights, you’ve built the gingerbread house, you’ve
Well, Haiti then. I don’t know how to process large moments, grand gestures. Once in Los Angeles, I walked into a roomful of 15ish friends gathered for my surprise birthday party and, after becoming startled and then grateful, I promptly accepted a mimosa and hid in the bathroom to take deep breaths for four, five
I didn’t anticipate a passport stamp to Haiti. But then again, rarely do I anticipate the greatest gifts. Ken, out of left field. Bee, surprise! Even the site you’re reading this on, this glowing rectangle that’s oddly held just enough space for a decade of myself? Wildly unexpected. And now here’s Haiti. I’m going for