Tag: Prose

It’s Kinda Sorta (Almost) Finished

It’s finally crunch time. I’m going to publish this damn book if it’s the last thing I do. I’ve talked about The Fields from time to time on this blog, and that’s all it’s ever been… talk. Now I will do. And it’s going to happen in the next two

Burnout

Burnout is constantly feeling like I’m late to something, even when I’m not, rushing through an activity because I just want to get to the end and “be on time”. Burnout is thinking that I have to get through just a little bit more, hold out a little longer, and

Loren

There is now a kitten residing at This Damn House, and his name is Loren. I told myself I would wait a while before I got a pet. I’ve been wanting one for years, but never was really in a good spot to have one, and then, when I moved

Those are human beings, you assholes.

I have never been great at talking politics. I have never found the right words to soothe pain, to explain cruelty, to reason with those who don’t seek reason. I learned to speak in images, not in outcries, and my arguments only go so far. But I have been pretty

This Damn House

I bought a house today. Those five words seem pretty easy to say, but I’ve been waiting more than eight months to say them. The path to homeownership has had its fair share of turmoil (okay, let’s be fair: every inch of the goddamn way was turmoil), but I’ve finally

Fight! Fight! Fight!

I’ve been practicing how to yell. A friend and I have been working on an improv show that explores relationship issues. It is for sure the most serious improv I have ever attempted, and the same for my scene partner, and boy, does it feel weird. The form involves discovering

Learning To Be Selfish

I don’t know who swore first — me, or my therapist. But the feeling was mutual: there was a point where my awkwardness began to melt away, and more and more I found myself able to be me. I’m not sure if she does this on purpose, but my therapist

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