When I’m not on that high, I try to be softer, accept messiness, and take things step by step. In other words, I still try to be good, and I try not to let my thoughts linger on the ways in which that good falls short of great.
I had a poem published yesterday in Backchannels Journal‘s Pandemic Issue, an instant publishing opportunity. I’ve been trying to write a poem every day in April, and the poem published was the one I wrote on April 1st. The poem is sort of a to-do list, or it contains to-do lists that are a littleContinue reading “To-do list”
And as a writer, I must think not only about how to adapt to that new publishing reality, but also think about how to be part of the movement that helps those positive changes remain.
Being at home all the time now means that I am levitating between on and off, a light switch halfway flipped, and the light bulb is flickering.
Two thoughts that I feel should be in a blog post, though I don’t know how to make them cohere: Write the days; record this moment as if we were living through history. Because we are. I’ve seen tweets that implore the necessity of starting a journal now, of recording daily life now, because yearsContinue reading “Moment to moment”
As a writer, I know the benefits and enjoy the act of reflecting, perhaps too much.
If we were having coffee, I might tell you how hard I’ve been on myself lately.
I sometimes actually hit the mark.
I am 26 years old now. This coming week, I’ll be turning 27. I’m still laughably, sickeningly young, and yet also worried that the youth card will be revoked soon.
Even-numbered years, for me, tend to be split in two.