I Should Write More
I have six unfinished drafts in my “Drafts” section, all with titles but like, one sentence. So it has become clear to me that I should just start writing stuff, see what happens, NOTHING CAN GO WRONG, RIGHT? I mean, I’m sure someone out there wants to read about my cats and my patio filled with mostly dead plants and “marine layer” grunge and the … Continue reading I Should Write More
Menopause is Real I Think
See?? It’s not even a week later and I FEEL SO MUCH BETTER. A combination of things must have happened: Hormones less crazy. I stopped giving so much of a fuck. Or I gave different fucks. Not sure. The sun came out. Either way, I’m singing songs and laughing and sleeping. I realize that some of what I am doing at work is pretty futile … Continue reading Menopause is Real I Think
The Next Right Thing
I have a bunch of drafts started and some of them are funny, and some of them would be poignant AND funny, a double-whammy of Writing Which Other People Might Care to Read. But none of the drafts sum up how I feel today. Those in AA say that around the annual date of your sobriety, you get…emotional. I don’t know if that’s what this … Continue reading The Next Right Thing
The Post in Which I Review A Dance Performance? Ok.
Let’s start this out by saying I am not a columnist anywhere, I am not an expert of ANY world – let alone the world of dance, and my review isn’t going into any fancymag or you know, going to be read by a whole lot of people. I do my writing thang for me, in hopes that someone somewhere (besides me) gets something out … Continue reading The Post in Which I Review A Dance Performance? Ok.
Decidedly Not Dead
I have started this post about 20 times in my mind. The original effort keeps coming off as snarky, shitty even – and worse yet, I managed to once again get real comfy with doing what I do best: Belittle myself and all the trappings that come with that. Make light of my accomplishments. Poo-poo my struggles. Minimize my insecurities and my vulnerability. To which … Continue reading Decidedly Not Dead
So What Will You Do?
As I stood in my bedroom folding towels while listening to thunder in the distance and rain actively – well, raining – I had a deep thought: There will be a time in the future where my consciousness may or may not exist, or know what it feels like to fold towels while it’s raining outside, or what listening to thunder feels like. Yeah, it’s … Continue reading So What Will You Do?
Sometimes All We Have is Music
Oh hey, are you reading this? Then my guess is you, too, are no stranger to disappointment or depression. Are you human? Alright then. We’ve all been there – you got some less-than-good news, you had a bit of a soul-crushing defeat, someone you love has left you in one way or another – your friends see that you’ve put on a fucking smile anyway … Continue reading Sometimes All We Have is Music
“I Don’t Get Along with Women”
Yeah. I used to say this. I used to say it a lot. I used to wear this phrase like a badge of fucking honor. But it never was really all that true. What the phrase should really be is “I am scared of myself. I am scared of my own power. I do not want to look in a mirror and see all the … Continue reading “I Don’t Get Along with Women”
Writing to Reach You
This may be a jumbled mess, and for that, I apologize. My brother-in-law took his own life a few days ago, and I am doing all I can to process and help my husband process all the feelings and emotions that go along with suicide. It is more than I can put into words. I wish I could have given him more. I wish he … Continue reading Writing to Reach You
One More Day of This Dumpster Fire Year
Well kiddos, it’s been a beautiful nightmare. So much (fill in the blank with your favorite expletive noun) has happened this year that it only makes sense to count it down, say goodbye, write retrospectives, and come up with an all-time winner for worst fucking moment of 2016. I’ve got quite a bit of reflecting to do, so go make your tea or grab a … Continue reading One More Day of This Dumpster Fire Year

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