I've been away for a while, mainly due to writer's block--not having the words to write what I felt--and something more: not having experiences worth writing about, or assuming I have naught to make art from as I go through my sedentary routine of work, eat, read, and sleep. But that's not necessarily true that... Continue Reading →
Easing into Conversation
I can’t ease into conversations anymore. I told a stranger this, after he handed me a miniature sunflower. He held it out to me with a boyish grin that, had I been someone else, anyone else, probably could’ve been the mark of a newfound friendship, but because I’m me, I hesitated and let his hand... Continue Reading →
On Being Alone or “Things to Learn in Life as an Adult”
I have to be okay, again, with being alone. In the still quiet of darkness. I have to relearn the art of loving writing, not merely for the off chance of readership or publication, but for myself, to get out of my head all the thoughts that plague me, if for no other reason than... Continue Reading →
His Eye is On the (Anxious) Sparrow
Last night I started reading J. P. Moreland’s book Finding Quiet. In it, he discusses his personal battles with both depression and anxiety. This morning, the first thought that entered my brain was “be anxious for nothing.” I knew the verse was in Matthew but I could not remember where, so I grabbed my Kindle... Continue Reading →
Musings of a Wanderer 