I’ve been reading a lot lately. I’ve also been thinking in lines of poetry. I believe it’s evidence of the way my brain is turning and reading helps to calm it down. The “poetry line thoughts” are my mind’s way of releasing emotion that it can’...
For some reason (probably because this blog is something like a progress journal), I feel the need to note here that this marks the first poem I’ve written since middle school. This post is two months to the day of my last blog post and everything I’ve tried...
I’ve been trying to figure out what brave looks like now, by remembering the days of bold. Different sets of years just feel like two radically different days and I’m connecting the dots between now and an uninterrupted, anxiety-free yesterday. A few months ago, someone told me I...
The word “vulnerable” is derived from the Latin word “vulnus,” which means “wound.” To be vulnerable is defined as being “susceptible to physical or emotional attack or harm.” See also: powerless, weak. It’s no wonder we’re so resistant to the notion of being vulnerable to others. Vulnerability is...
That happened fast. I blinked and suddenly, it’s been three months since I posted here. I can place 90% of the blame for my time away on grad school. But every time I get to study an advertising principle or write a paper defending the practice of social media...
In middle school, I hung out with a group that was very diverse in every way, many of whom I still have contact with today. We had almost all of our classes together and our own section of the cafeteria at lunch time. We sat in the same section of...
I know that in my skin, I’m a minority here. I’m a minority who’s searching for empathy and compassion in a world that wishes to paint over my skin with a comfortable neutral and attempts to silence my voice and disguises it as being “color blind,” as...
Well, I had no intention of abandoning my blog for three months. Between graduate school work and daily work-work came the illusion that I didn’t have time to write, or at least post anything meaningful (sound familiar?). It’s one illusion that I’m trying to break down now,...
When I think about true friendship, I think about middle school. I think about the days of sleepovers and passing notes, nights and weekends of the same activities with the same group. My friends and I knew everything (and I do mean everything) about each other and shared the type...