When I was young—eight or nine maybe—I learned that two of the mountains near where I grew up used to be volcanos. My first question was whether they would erupt again. My older brother and my father explained why they wouldn’t. The volcanos were active in the Paleocene era—around 65 million years ago. Whatever they had to say, they had already said it—they had already spewed and exploded and raged. Now they stood quiet, content.Read More
Yesterday, for the first time in months, I started writing something new. As I did so, I almost welled up with tears. I was excited, relieved, inspired. I felt like someone had connected my arm to an IV drip after months of severe dehydration. Finishing my essay collection for grad school last month took every last bit of original thought and motivation from me. I wasn’t sure when or if I was going to be able to write again. But there I was yesterday, typing away. I felt like everything was going to be okay again.Read More
It's day 30 of my photo project, which means if I'm following the advice of life hacks everywhere, I've successfully created a new habit. When I decided to take a photo every day for a year, I initially just wanted to practice taking photos. Photography is one of my hobbies, and it's something I've always wanted to get better at, but I always push it aside for other things, like writing, making money to feed myself, and practicing yoga. Seldom do I have a lazy Saturday afternoon when I can just walk around and take photos. So I started the project thinking that taking a photo every day would be an easy, small way to work on my skills.Read More
Last week I had a day where I felt "less than.” I was online looking for a writing class or a way to meet some other writers. I used to have a group for this, but we all disbanded a couple of years ago and went our separate ways.
I followed the world wide abyss and found my way to the works of some wildly successful contemporary essayists. After reading several essays, I began to feel inferior. The essays were really, really good. Each author had websites detailing their long lists of publications and awards.Read More
“He had been drinking heavily for the past few days,” his wife said yesterday morning. “He was a very lonely man.”
That’s from an article in the New York Times the day after Jack Kerouac’s death—October 22nd, 1969. Yesterday was the anniversary of his death, 45 years ago. I wanted to write something all day yesterday, but was busy at work, then went to yoga, then came home and did freelance work. It was long past my bedtime on a school night before I had the chance to say anything.Read More
It’s a little after 8:30 on an October evening and the rain is lightly falling outside. The drops are tapping the skylight in my living room. I’m eating a Larabar for dinner because it’s all I had in the house that didn’t need to be cooked. I got home from yoga a little while ago. I washed my face and fed the cat. I was just starting to make my dinner when everything went black. I felt around the countertop for my phone, knowing it had a flashlight. My cat kept eating.Read More