My old boss gave me this gift & note years ago. He was right then. He’d be right now. I’ve been struggling as a writer, feeling pressured to monetize my passion. “How can I make money doing what I love?” It’s a common existential question for everyone. As I’ve been mulling & churning it over, I’ve … Continue reading 300 Days // 300 Writing Prompts
I’ve lived in five different places, none of which have produced a sustainable friendship with a neighbor. I think that’s pretty common, though. Nobody truly enjoys sharing space… It’s like public transit or open work environments; you don’t get to choose who you’re situated next to and everybody does things differently. For example, our … Continue reading Day 17: “Hidey Ho, Neighbor!”
My aunt Penny was very pretty, but I found it odd she had a darker complexion than any of her six siblings. She had a contagious laugh, positive energy, and the most beautiful smile in the entire world. (Which may or may not have had anything to do with her dental profession & as some … Continue reading Day 16: Someone You Miss
I used to be The Boy Who Cried Wolf. At first I got Tabasco when I lied – until my mom found out I liked the taste. Then I got soap. And not bar soap: soft soap. (If you've ever eaten soft soap then you know it’s hell.) Anyway, I blamed a lot of things … Continue reading Day 10: Liar, Liar Pants on Fire
When I was a kid my mom always shaved my big, ugly head – same as my brothers. So once upon a time, my friends and I were in line at a haunted house, and as a little shit, I pretended super obnoxiously to be a kid with cancer. I don’t remember why; I think … Continue reading Days 7 & 8: My “Haunted House” Experiences
I admire the skill necessary to sing or play an instrument, and successful musicians not only had to overcome external pressures against pursuing their creative endeavors, but had to put in their 10k hours, too. It’s easy to play with passion, but to go through the painful parts of intertwining raw talent and practiced skill … Continue reading Day 4: My Favorite Work of Art
The first memory I have of my uncle is sitting in a suburban at Riverside Park. I was young, maybe 10, I don’t know – I’ve never been good with dates. We were waiting for someone I think. It was awkward for him. We had never been alone together before; I hardly knew him, but … Continue reading Day 2: Who Is Your Hero?