Jess Osborne
Bio
Not a starving artist (I stay well fed), but starving to get back into writing, so here I go. *Cracks open a beer* Is this how that works? Maybe I don't want to channel Hemingway...
Stories (4/0)
Chisels
I don’t know about you, but I’m having an eerie sense of déjà vu these days. I think the only thing that’s a bit different is I’m not counting my stash of toilet paper and making sure I keep a few packs of Ramen noodles to spare. Wait. Who am I kidding? I always do that for those midnight rumbling stomach cravings. Come on, we all do. I know you’ve got a box of Little Debbie Oatmeal Cream Pies in the pantry for that, Susan.
By Jess Osborne3 years ago in Motivation
Of Monsters, Men, and Children
Nestled in a fleece blanket, red wine in hand and scrolling through Netflix, I could be describing any number of people in the world, at any one time really. Maybe the wine is white, or the blanket is a fancier Sherpa type instead of the ones at my local grocery store for $10. Regardless, we all sit in variations of the same position—poised in comfort, our underbellies protected, warm and fed on the inside and without fear from the outside world. We become transfixed at the stories opposite of this, things like Taken (2008), where a desperate father with a “particular set of skills” takes down dozens to save his daughter, their world invaded and in effect taken from them. What would we do if that happened? My set of skills would be limited to bicep curls with beers and the napping skills of a gold medal champion. What if, not quite in the extreme of an international trafficking ring, we lost all of the comfort and protection of that blanket, the couch, and the locked front door? Shows like “The Walking Dead” attempt to present “everyday people” as survivors fighting off the gnashing hoard, but could our hands swing an axe as well as our fingers swipe on Tinder?
By Jess Osborne3 years ago in Humans
The Little Ram
I like signs that point out restaurants at the next exit after you’ve been driving for hours looking for something other than McDonald’s. I like signs of warning, especially the ones for spicy foods. There’s nothing worse than taking a long-awaited bite of a new Chinese dish and you missed the four little red peppers next to it on the menu.
By Jess Osborne3 years ago in Humans
Wednesday
It was a typical Wednesday for Erin or started that way at least. The alarm blared in her ear at 6:45am as usual, slowly pulling her eyelids open. She heard the salvation of the coffeemaker across the room start it’s grumbling so she knew it had survived one more morning. The next challenge would be if her little Nissan would do the same for her journey to work, the engine struggling each day more and more as the belts squealed like a chorus of mice. She’d say a short prayer and shut her eyes and so far, Black Betty had faithfully turned over for the past five months, despite the incessant check engine glow.
By Jess Osborne3 years ago in Families
