I can’t breathe. Well, obviously that isn’t true. I can’t breathe easily. If I don’t keep thinking about it, I hold my breath. Guarded. Awaiting something bad to happen. I just walked home from work. It’s about a mile, a little more. I left work sick. Sick and worried that one of my coworkers would … Continue reading Hello depression, my old friend
Personal
The Brickskeller
On January 17, 1991, the United States Navy bombed the holy-hell out of Iraq. For the first time in eighteen years, the U.S. was at war. My response? I went out drinking. DCs premier beer-bar, the Brickskeller, hosted a tasting of Bell’s Third Coast Beer that night. As I primped for my evening out, the … Continue reading The Brickskeller
Untitled #1
It's a million pounds of marble. It sits like a massive boulder or a bomb-shelter two blocks from the Square, which is what we call the center of town, even though it’s a traffic circle. Past the comic book store and the candy shop and the place that sells expensive shoes from Sweden, the century … Continue reading Untitled #1
Motions of Tourette
Eyes clenched, squeezed like a pair of fists, seconds before a fight. Eyeballs lurch, left then right, pushing ripples behind my bunched-up lids. Rapid eye movements in a dream of pain. Probing for that sandpapery spot—oh, they itch so much. I think no one is watching. Teeth on edge, scraping, my jaw gliding, forward and … Continue reading Motions of Tourette
Whoppers
It’s important to me to be considered a “good” house. At the entrance to my neighborhood is a small seventies-era split-level home. It’s not well kept: over-grown bushes, peeling paint and an eroded set-back—that eight-foot parking strip between the street and the lawn in rural neighborhoods like mine. There are no curbs denoting the start of … Continue reading Whoppers
Olivia’s
Dinnertime: Family conversation. Out of nowhere, Sophie announces her career change: “I’m going to get a job at Olivia’s.” My first response: “Who’s going to drive you to Olivia’s every night?” Sophie already has a job. She’s a babysitter at the Y. When parents with young children come in to exercise, Sophie’s the girl who … Continue reading Olivia’s
Something’s up
People change. Overtime, over the years, personalities morph. They bend, adjust, reboot. Introverts become extroverted. The immature find maturity. The hopeful become bitter. The shy become bold. Introverted by nature, I like to be alone. My hobbies, distance running and reading, are solitary activities. Time spent quietly in my own head. Only myself as company. … Continue reading Something’s up
Messy
My public self: confident, controlled, together. And then I blog: vulnerable, messy, confused. Tourette Syndrome. The tics I suppress with medications, mostly: Thigh-punching. Eye-rolling. Body-scratching. Tooth-scraping. Grunting. Pay attention, you see them, hear them. I lack repose. Always moving, twitching. My brain in motion, fueled by anxiety. By obsession. By worry. Those conditions that accompany … Continue reading Messy
A most unusual resignation letter
Today I quit my job. Well, I haven’t told anyone yet, so: Today I decided to quit my job. And it isn’t my real job, not the one that supports my family. It’s my hobby-job. My fun job. My job as a spin instructor. The joy is gone. Tonight was the second week in a … Continue reading A most unusual resignation letter
Adult
“I have a personal question.” This is Crystal, my coworker—actually, she works for me. Her voice is barely above a whisper. She’s treading on dangerous ground. This is the first conversation we’ve had. “Why is there a bird on your truck?” A couple of years ago, I drilled a pair of holes into my truck-bed … Continue reading Adult
Great Expectations
Yes, I know that title’s already been used. ~ ~ ~ ~ “Hundreds of new followers? Isn’t that a good thing?” This was my daughter Sophie. I just told her about having my post featured in WordPress’s Discover. This happened on Sunday morning at 9:00. Seven hours later, Sophie was just getting home. She slept … Continue reading Great Expectations
An itch I gotta scratch
My workplace is large. It’s a community center: a weight room, basketball courts, aerobics rooms, swimming pool, child care center, coffee shop. Tying it all together is a long, straight hallway—a hallway I travel several times a day. Gazing down the hall, I can be seen walking with purpose… on my way to get things … Continue reading An itch I gotta scratch
Live each day without judgement
I’m goal oriented—meaning I aim towards setting goals. And then I nail them. Find the right medication for Tourettes, run a 50K, score a new job; these are a few from the past year, all complete. The year before that had a few as well: publish a book and quit drinking are a couple of … Continue reading Live each day without judgement
The Gift Card
I’ll be honest. I was after the gift card. Fifty dollars, Amazon.com—that’s a lot of music. I teach a spin class each week. That’s an exercise class on stationary bicycles. The music is an important part of the experience. And I’ve been wanting to upgrade my music library for months now. But my pay for … Continue reading The Gift Card
Whitey and the Riff Raff
In 1983, my college dorm room was an important meeting place. Monday through Friday at 3:00, my roommate and four or five of our friends would gather to watch General Hospital. I write this in a way that implies zero involvement from me. But that’s only partially true. I rarely settled in to watch GH, but … Continue reading Whitey and the Riff Raff
The Blue Trail
A longish short story that I classify as Almost Fiction. A fairly dramatic departure from my usual writing. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Shovel in hand, part-way through the job of replacing my sump-pump drainage pipe, I first caught sight of Pat. I was still digging out the decayed tar-paper piping that was … Continue reading The Blue Trail
Apple Cider Donut Cake
No, this isn’t a recipe. As I think about it, I suppose there’s some apple cider, some flour, probably some sort of lard… Not a recipe, just some thoughts. Apple cider donut cake was the most recent treat to grace our kitchen counter. Susan, on her maternal side, is a first generation American. Her Ukrainian … Continue reading Apple Cider Donut Cake
-itis
Sometimes, as the week winds down, you just don’t want to do anything. This is where I was sitting on Friday afternoon, more than an hour before the end of my work day. I was tired of work, tired of my office, ready to enjoy some free time. My work: I write all around this … Continue reading -itis
