Sometimes, it just isn’t the right time. During my thesis defense, committee members said, “Get it out there. Move on.”…
The Unsubscribe Button is a Delusion: Survival & Concession as a Single Woman of a Certain Age
I’ve been contained in a valley of Wi-Fi, 5G, and visible spectrum shadows for five days. I can walk a…
Sloshing: Trauma, Memory, & Blurting
In the grand scheme of things, nothing I do or don’t do is of any value. I am not a…
Daily Existential Angst Diary (I’ll let y’all do the acronym)
**TRIGGER WARNING** UNALIVE ATTEMPT DISCUSSED IN BRIEF. In October 2019, I attempted, feebly, to unalive* myself by trying to swim…
Lost Art
These things cloud my head (with my permission) like a perpetual flu. If I were an addict, I could blame drugs or booze, but my addictions are the 3 x 5 screen in my hand and the constant reexamination of pain and rage. Better to binge on pixels and past hurts than to leave the chasm in my brain agape because I simply can’t properly fill it.
Islands:
When my husband and I bought our first home, it was with the conviction that it was our last home.…
Health, Hope, and Mud-Dung Candy: Living in the Present
I came away from Facebook for a few weeks. I logged back in a few times not because I wanted…
Porpoises and Purposes
A pod of porpoises often comes close to shore near our new home. It seems, if you’ll forgive the anthropomorphism, that they are making fun of the fishermen on shore.
Remembering Dad
My dad, my favorite amateur (as in, non-professional) grammarian, died last week at the age of eighty-six. Dad could, in…
A Talking Dog and Choppy Seas
How Saturdays would happen if the Big Blind Dog had language: I awaken and get out of bed. My husband…