The people that look at me, what do they see? The ones that dabble with curiosity to find the intricacies in my voice, what do they hear? I wonder if they can hear the silence between my words, if they… Read More ›
stream of conscious
Chimichanga Line
Chipotle’s business model has one subtle issue: the lightening quick and oft robotic preparation of my burrito, just behind an insincere sneeze screen, makes it almost impossible not to attack my burrito like a rabid werewolf when it’s done. It’s… Read More ›
What’s Important to Me?
With long lines at the gym and salad bars, I can’t help but think January has to mean something more to me. It’s not just a new calendar year, it’s a new beginning: a time, no doubt, to set goals… Read More ›
Memories Applied in a Dirt Lot
Like a camera out of focus, everything in front of me was just a little bit off. I pinched my eyes to temper the blur, to see that the world around me was, in fact, real. It was a moment… Read More ›
When Old Bridges Pass
The old bridge runs alongside the new. Like a shadow of my past crossings, it’s a stark reminder that nothing in this world is permanent. Piece by piece, they disassemble the steel, and each morning I glance over my right… Read More ›
Get to The Point
To say the hand-cranked mechanical pencil sharpener was the Cadillac of pencil sharpeners would be a huge understatement. During my school days, the painted metal sharpener was ever present, usually bolted into a long counter in the classroom, always with… Read More ›
Nobody Calls Me Nobody
“He was a nobody before he was a somebody,” a former NFL quarterback said, about Pat Tillman. “And he never forgot that, he carried it with him. That’s what made him so special.” Well intentioned words, I must say, that… Read More ›
I Start Voices in My Head
I hear voices. Audible crumbs that line the zigzagged paths in my head. Loud whispers fold into hushed thoughts, a disconnect bridged by a familiar tone. It builds into a phrase, like a breeze into wind, almost recognizable in a… Read More ›
Dear Red Hot Chili Peppers
Dear Red Hot Chili Peppers, Please stop stalking me. I ended things between us several years ago because you refused to get out of my head. But you’ve followed me, everywhere. It’s actually a little creepy. Every time I turn… Read More ›
Taking Stock in Our Kitchen
I’d like to think when Aunt Helen said “if you’re not cooking, get out of the kitchen,” a special exclusion applied to me. Me. I wasn’t even tall enough to see down into the treasured stockpot filled with my Nonni’s… Read More ›
