Tag: writing
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The Winter Solstice
From an instagram post sent to me by a crush: I don’t have much hate in my heart – certainly the least I’ve had in my life – but still there is some, though it exists mainly in the form of involuntary reactions to small inconveniences. I know, of course, that life is better lived…
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When Happiness Arises
I am most happy in a few circumstances. The first is when I have a big bowl of lentils ready to eat (see recipe) with a show to watch while I do so! However, probably the one thing that makes me the most happy is when I’m just poking around town spending time at coffee…
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Repetition
At the end of all things there existed the Last: a group of beings all on their own, floating in the remnants of Space, but beings, sentient, nonetheless. What exactly they were is unknown: tales are told of these great Wanderers, alone among the Stars, but tales, myths, nonetheless. Time collides – the Last were,…
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Teachers
My first thoughts went to a YouTuber (cringe) and then to fictional characters (e.g., Aragorn – less cringe, but still intangible). I unfortunately can’t consider my dad, either. Finally, my thoughts settled on teachers from more than 10 years ago; a sad indictment of men. The first teacher, Mr. S., was my middle school –…
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A Fool’s Paradise
Max, recently returned from his shift at McDonald’s, is now teetering over on the couch, sleep and heavy eyelids threatening to take him. The soft sounds of his parents whispering and cooking dinner flitter in his ears, exacerbating sleep’s spell. His eyes fall closed, his fate surely sealed, when, without warning, the door to his…
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Directness is Kindness
I learned today that directness is kindness. I’m tempted to couch this in writing that of course I knew this beforehand, but I don’t want to make excuses, especially because this lesson was learned in a new context: letting someone down. I’m referring to dating, as I just had a second date with a wonderful…
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Why shouldn’t your tools be beautiful?
“Nicholas, pass me the tack, please?” Gregory called to his son from the top of his ladder, a handful of finishing nails strewn across the small platform in front of him. His attention focused on these beautiful nails, and he began pushing them around with the back of his finger as if something soft would…
