“Dude, just wake up fifteen minutes earlier.” “I will.”
It must have been a couple of years ago when I decided that I wanted to write a novel by the time I turn 35. I’ve flirted with the idea more seriously since I wrote the reminder on the whiteboard that hangs above my desk. With only 11 months to go, I’m not sure that… Continue reading Running out of time
The writing was on the wall, my Facebook wall, and it read, “You should smile more!” Being cautious even at the suggestion provided by stop signs, I was given pause upon reading this.
Writing is incredibly difficult work. It’s not for lack of time or ideas, but for the lack of actual words that I can pour on to a page and still have them make sense once they’ve been neatly arranged to form a coherent sentence.
My real aim with this post – even though it feels incomplete, and the title seems unnecessarily dramatic – is to personalize a global issue. I’m going to address an issue, however rudimentarily, that I’ve been planning, and have started, an entire book on: exposing my identity. With this post, I want to become part… Continue reading I’ve Always Wanted to be White
It wasn’t too long ago, maybe a couple of months, that the only way I could get an update on what’s been going on in my sister’s life was by sending her a text or giving her a call. Now, I get updates from her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and her blog. It only dawned… Continue reading Just Thinking About Thinking About Things
This is the first story, in a short series of stories, about my experience in Mariposa. So, to kick things off right, I’ll begin with where I live. From the outset, please be aware that any facts I state, about anything, in this or any of the pieces about Mariposa are all coming straight from… Continue reading Where I Live: Mariposa
Riel has been in my life for just over four years, and we’ve developed a bond. Before I had Riel, I didn’t understand what it meant to have a pet that you really care for. I thought that pets were simply subjects in a one-sided relationship. Last night, while trying to fall asleep in the… Continue reading My Cat Snores, While I Search for Sleep
Mavis Gallant died today, and the news carries a certain import for me. I’m not very well read, or particularly attached to her writing, but her story, and stories, seems to resonate with me.
I have seven fading scars on the wrist of my right arm. I put them there, twelve years ago. I used cigarettes. I used to smoke menthols.