Gone are the days when I wake up an hour early to write. Long gone. This morning I was up at 5:15. That early alarm setting allows forty-five minutes of quiet self-care—coffee, news, cereal—before my kids grudgingly get out of bed. They require constant and sometimes not-so-gentle nudging towards door to start their school day. … Continue reading Censored by Decency
Does anyone wonder where I’ve been? Am I being self-aggrandizing to think that anyone cares when I write a blog post? That people might notice when I’m not commenting on their blog? When I go missing for what, two weeks? I just passed my five-year anniversary as a blogger. If you’re astute, you might look … Continue reading BADASS (the book)
There’s a guy who reads my blog every day. He reads my new posts over and over again. He rereads last month’s posts on a regular basis. And he reads through the old stuff, the stuff I wrote years ago, even when no one else does. That guy is me. I like what I write, … Continue reading Bloggers: What is your best post?
I’m in a rut. Those things I do for fun—my hobbies—they aren’t so fun anymore. They used to be, but not recently. Some of my hobbies, it’s been years: no longer enjoyable, but they’re still my hobbies. I haven’t found replacements yet. I haven’t ridden a bicycle this year; I’m a cyclist. It’s what I … Continue reading Maintenance Mode
I’m a memoirist. That’s a clunky word, right? It’s hard to say. It seems like a bastardization of the English language. Constructed for convenience—akin to inventing new verbs like “strategize” or “dialogue.” Could it be a modern word, created to accommodate the billions of bloggers, just like me, who chronical the minutia of their lives? … Continue reading The Memoirist
I’ve taken two writing courses in my life. One class—Creative Nonfiction, I enrolled in it as I first embarked on my writing hobby—was phenomenal. Useful, educational, fun. I walked away with a two-thousand-word essay that makes me proud to this very day. The second class, taken on the heels of the first, gave me nothing. … Continue reading The Shimmering Image
It might be over—my three year run. My alter-ego as a blogger, a writer. Three years: daily, I opened my laptop and pounded out my thoughts—stream of consciousness—into small stories extracted from my life. Stories of triumph or regret. Running, mental health, parenting and alcoholism. Bitching, left wing commentary and pointless, over-thought drivel. Artistic and … Continue reading Death and the Blogger
In high school, I gave up his books. I quit right in the middle of the Dead Zone. I was binging: Carrie, Night Shift, The Shining, The Stand, and then half of the Dead Zone – one after another, all at once. I was having dreams. Not exactly bad dreams, but unsettling ones. So I … Continue reading Stephen King