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!
Mrs. Madison's Garden
Today’s the kind of thick August swelter that makes you feel like you stepped into a bathtub as soon as you walk outside. It isn’t even lunchtime, but sweat’s already rolling in rivets down the small of my back, and my hair feels limp and sticky against my forehead. I wish for the millionth time this summer that I was a boy so that I could run around with my shirt off, but Delia’s mom says that’s “unbecoming of a lady.” If it was up to my mom, we’d be running around the yard in only our Underoos “like the wild women of Borneo!” but my mom isn’t around right now, so I’m stuck at Delia’s house.
When the Fat Lady Runs
The inevitable happened three weeks ago. It wasn't even 10 am, but it was already over 90 degrees. I knew that would make my Sunday run tough, but I was really struggling. My knee was a bit twitchy, and this new route was literally all hills. I just couldn't get back into a good headspace as I slowed to a walk and turned my music all the way up. I was very frustrated and ready to call it a day.
Time of Plenty
Somewhere in the middle of nowhere stands an old barn- long past its usefulness but still handsome in its own unassuming way. A timid morning sun shows its first signs of arrival over its roof and highlights the blank sky with traces of gold. The stars have nearly disappeared, ready to retire, another night’s work nearly complete. This is the place where the evening meets the daylight, conversing with one another without any expectation. Soon it will be full dawn, but for now, the world sleeps soundly beneath a blanket that the two skies have woven together.
Going Home Again
The house is still here. It's different than I remember it. Hadn't it been yellow? Wasn't there a clapboard fence around the backyard? It's been 15 years. I guess I don't remember right.
Blaine Lucas hates tourists. He hates their excited smiles and sweat stained tee shirts and patchy sunburns and the way they always balance things; luggage, shopping bags, children, when they approach the check-in desk. He hates their constant needs…I NEED a nonsmoking room, I NEED more towels, I NEED turndown service.
A Xennial’s Review of Netflix’s “Fear Street Part One: 1994”
Growing up in the ‘80s and ‘90s was terrifying. It was only natural that we gravitated to the fictional spooky when our young lives were filled with real-life Big Bads like creeps in white vans and teenagers who tried to force us to smoke crack in the park (or so the ABC Afterschool Specials foretold).
Scary Stories to Tell at Your Haunt
I am an educator in real life. For nearly a decade I've taught young people the fine art of finding their passion through career assessments and goal setting. Then I've taught them how to make it happen through job searching skills, networking and interviewing strategies.