Last week began with a bus crash. So much has happened since then that the bus crash feels like an afterthought, even though my shoulder hurt for a few hours after. It took three extra days to write this post -- which felt a little like climbing through a thicket.Read More
"This is a textbook rebellion," he said. I felt like I had been slapped in the face.
"I thought that happened when you were a teenager, and you know, you got a piercing and a tattoo and broke curfew? I'm too old! It's impossible."
"There is such a thing as a delayed teenage rebellion. How much of your life do you feel is repressed?"
"75% perhaps?" I said. He laughed.
Well, there you go.Read More
In winter the well was dry, so I wondered: why now? Was it listening to Albin de la Simone on repeat? Was it the texture of herbs under my fingers as I chopped them? Or maybe the smell of the lemon zest? (Something that comes to life by scratching a surface?) Was it still the quiet restraint of "Mrs. Dalloway"?Read More
That evening I paced across the rug in the living room through a dense cloud of my thoughts. Do you ever feel as though you are just...waiting? Like you are paused watching something far away grow close, but you can't tell if it's good or bad, and you can only stand and wait?Read More
If you don't nail down the holidays, hold tight to the warm evenings and baton down the sunny afternoons, you'll lose it all in an August windstorm. I'm never as strategic as I would like. Some summer Fridays pass by and all I do is binge watch TV. Every May I scroll past the weeks on my calendar saying things like: Bermuda, Montreal, New Orleans. It never happens.Read More
Thinking back, this was a week of two things: friends and weather. I had many dinners and drinks in all my favorite places, and as I commuted I pulled my jacket collar over my neck. Sure, there were brief moments of sun and warmth but I only experienced them on my ten minute lunch breaks. It rained quite often.Read More
"I was going to say, if you're afraid of needles, just you wait till you have kids someday."
"The epidural needle, you mean?" I said.
"No, I mean, childbirth. What it does to you down there. I mean, it rips it to shreds," she laughed.
Saturday morning I zig-zagged through midtown. It was raining, not a polite drizzle, but a downpour. My insides were anxious, my stomach jumped. I sat in my doctor's waiting room and couldn't even look at my phone and I hadn't been sleeping soundly.Read More