I am seven years old and sitting on the yellow and brown rug that smells of dirt and scratches the backs of my legs sometimes
The Most Devastating Thing a Teacher Ever Said to Me
2009 was a very bad year. At the beginning of February, I’d been unceremoniously laid off from a job I loved and spent the next nine months unemployed, gravely depressed, and slowly developing a methamphetamine habit. By the time I finally found another job, I honestly didn’t know who I was anymore.
A Memo to My Dog, Who is Kind of a Slacker
TO: Nurmal "Buddy" Conaway RE: Your Job Performance Dear Nurmal, It has come to management's attention that your work performance has become sub-par since your last review, and I would like to address these issues in order to better maximize your full potential and ensure a successful future with the company.
Capital S, All Italics
There is no greater punishment for a life lived poorly than moving to the suburbs. I believe Socrates said that. Or maybe it was one of the Kardashians. I don’t quite remember. What I do know is that we have been living in this neighborhood for 336 hours, and I am convinced that I must have done terrible, unspeakable things in a past life to deserve this torture; this Saab-driving, dinner party-hosting, PTA-fundraising torture. The Suburbs (capital S, all italics, of course) is where corporate careers and former homecoming queens go to die. And death comes slowly; preceded by a seemingly endless loop of pumpkin spice lattes and idle gossip.
Cookies Make Everything Better
This post is part of the Vocal Cooks Collaborative. Click here for an index of all story-recipes. The previous posts in this series were:
Vic and Bobby
It’s cold here. He’s surprised that he’d forgotten how cold it gets this early on the East coast. Of course, in the past decade, he’s forgotten a lot of what used to be important. He wishes, just for a fleeting moment, that he still had that god-awful Marlboro sheepskin coat he used to wear, and he chuckles at the thought of it.
It’s different it’s different it’s different. It’s just a meaningless mantra that shatters your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you hold the razor to your cheek and wonder what if. You don't even look like you anymore because you’re not you anymore. Some time not so long ago you started this descent into the unseen void, little by little, and some time not so long from now you will disappear completely. Not that it matters. The world is burning, and we’re all headed to Hell together. Or so you’ve been told.
I Think Vocal is Breaking Up With Me.
I thought we had something special. I really did. I mean, we had a whirlwind romance, Vocal and I. It started in February when I wrote a little thing. Then I wrote another little thing. And then the THIRD little thing I wrote went straight to the front page. I was a Top Story, baby! Woo hoo!